The black cat sat in the window watched the world outside. The leaves were changing and falling, and the air was getting chill. Halloween, his time, was coming at last. Evil and misfortune would rule the land, and darkness would rise. Behind him, he heard the unmistakable sound of a shaking treat bag. He hopped down from the windowsill and trotted into the warm, bright kitchen. His human was waiting for him. He wove a path through their legs and purred, looking up in anticipation. He forgot his schemes. Evil had its charms, but it had nothing on tuna delights.
Today’s prompt was taken from October #CreativeFest, a month-long challenge. Please share, comment, and try it out yourself!
The hooded figures laid out a circle in salt on the basement floor. Once it was complete, they took their stations and began to chant in a language thought long dead. There was a crack like space breaking, and a squat, bat-winged figure appeared in the center. “For what reason have I been summoned?” “It’s game night,” one of the cultists said, removing his robe. “Alright! Who’s up for trivia?” The demon stretched and stepped out of the summoning circle. “Have you ever considered getting a phone?” His friend asked. “Trust me, the plans where I live are absolute murder.”
Today’s prompt was taken from October #CreativeFest, a month-long challenge. Please share, comment, and try it out yourself!
The priests gathered in the darkness before dawn at the bottom of the ruined tower. Nobody came there anymore, but they knew a secret buried in the depths of lost tomes about that place. The dome was still intact and in the correct position. If one stood at the bottom on the proper day of the year, the rising sun would reveal a hidden message from the heavens. The four holy men watched in awe as the message revealed itself in a fiery script. “We have been trying to reach you about your car’s warranty?” The heavens were truly mysterious
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A black hole appeared in the YA section of the library. It was already big enough to pull books off shelves when the specialist arrived with her assistant in tow. “Follow my lead,” she said. She began shouting at the singularity. “I looked at myself in the mirror and described my physical appearance! I realized I wasn’t a farm boy but secretly a prince! And then I woke up!” The anomaly began to shrink and disappeared with a pop. “What happened?” the junior librarian asked. “Literary black holes suck you in through storytelling. You just have to break their immersion.”
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Every year, the farmer grew a record-breaking pumpkin. Each one was larger than the last. At the state fair, he would sit beside his creations as the scale listed his achievements. Two thousand pounds, twenty-five hundred, three thousand. But the smile on his face never reached his eyes. News teams from all over lined up to interview him, hoping to capture a slam-dunk human interest story. They always came away disappointed. “It needs to be bigger,” the farmer would say and walk off. He would return to his field and start again from scratch. For some reason, Linus was obsessed.
Today’s prompt was taken from October #CreativeFest, a month-long challenge. Please share, comment, and try it out yourself!
As the car rumbled through the streets, she couldn’t see where she was going. She could barely move at all. Somehow, her caretakers had betrayed her. She screamed, but her caretaker didn’t seem to even hear her. The car stopped at a low brick building, and she was brought inside. The hospital walls were painted in cheerful pastels, but the place stank of fear and madness. Strange figures subjected her to horrifying experiments. Then, they just went home. “How did Princess do at her checkup?” The other caretaker asked that evening. “Fine. You know how cats are at the vet.”
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The leaves were changing. Day by day, they cast their green hues aside for red, orange, and gold coats. Each day on her twenty-minute lunch, she would sit in the courtyard and watch them. She had read somewhere that autumn colors were already inside the leaf when it budded, but you could never tell what color it would turn. She liked the idea that all her changes were curled up somewhere deep inside and that she was only waiting for the proper moment to reveal them. By the time the leaves finished falling, she had made her decision and left.
Today’s prompt was taken from October #CreativeFest, a month-long challenge. Please share, comment, and try it out yourself!
The house was abandoned. The neighborhood kids agreed that it was haunted and would dare each other to step inside on moonless summer nights. They built campfires in the weed-choked backyard and told stories of kids that went in and were never seen again. But the house was odd. Lights flipped on at strange hours, and music randomly filled empty rooms. Rusted appliances whirred to life and went silent again in the kitchen. The house had been one of the first fully wired Smart Houses. It still kept its master’s schedule long after its door was locked for the last time.
Thanks for reading! Today’s drabble is a part of this year’s October #Creativefest! Check out the hashtag for more creativity, and join in yourself!
They went out walking on a perfect autumn night. The sky was clear, and the weather was still warm. The air carried a hint of bonfires and fallen leaves on the soft breeze. He looked up and marveled at the harvest moon, hanging huge and golden in the black sky. “Isn’t it beautiful,” he asked her. And she nodded but frowned. “What’s wrong?” “Wasn’t it the new moon last night?” He looked back up at the object in the sky. She was right. And whatever it was, it was getting bigger at an alarming rate. “That’s no moon,” she whispered.
Today’s prompt was taken from October #CreativeFest, a month-long challenge. Please share, comment, and try it out yourself!
He still drove his boss to the factory every day before dawn. The storms had flooded the town and the highway, but you could still take the mountain roads if you were clever and fearless. Most drivers didn’t have his steel, though. There were fatal crashes every day on that road. In the emergency camp, they whispered about a ghost car running the wealthy foreigners off the road. He didn’t believe in ghosts. Rounding the bend, he spotted headlights in the dark. The white charger sped forward, and he could see the driver’s inhuman eyes. It was already too late.
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Hugh J. O'Donnell 