onyxprop

A short story:
“Do you know why they don’t go to Meat Manor?” The young woman replied. She was talking to a male college student she met in her classroom a week ago. They were freshmen.
“I dunno, why?”
“Every woman knows what will happen to her.”
“Like what?” He exclaimed, pressing the corners of his lips together as if she were talking bullshit.
“Remember those bodies they found?”
“It’s a city. They find many bodies.”
“Ok, mister smart ass! Forget it then!”
He started to laugh at her, “Hey, hey, I was only joking. I asked and you’re telling me the story. I’m doing an essay on serial killers. I thought I’d swing by the house to investigate its history.”
“Well, there’s no concern for your sake.” She adjusted the strap on her backpack. “You’re a man.”
“AND the Manor is old an abandoned.”
“When are you going up there?”
He shrugged his shoulders, “I dunno, I thought I’d see if there’s any inspiration for my essay- tonight.”
“The home is going to be bulldozed soon. It was in the newspaper.”
“Shit….really? When?”
“I can’t remember. In the article it said that all the furniture in the house was stolen. The tiles are worn and the walls are falling apart. It’s a danger zone. I wouldn’t step foot passed its gates.”
“That’s because you’re a woman.”
“No shit.”
“So, why they don’t go to Meat Manor?”
“As I’ve mentioned earlier, the bodies they found in it were mutilated at the head- mostly the upper body. They didn’t go into much description about what happened or who actually did the murders, but whoever the culprit was, he has never been found. It’s been about twenty years. Cold case files have emerged. Incidents left unsolved.”
“How come you know so much about this?”
“I read the newspaper.” She smiled at him, “and I gotta go.”
“Sure, I’ll talk to you later then, Sue.”
“Ok.” She began to walk off waving behind her, “good luck with that project, Todd.”
“Thanks.”
“Oh and be careful.”
“No doubt, I will.”


Todd looked through the iron wrought gates of the notorious manor nicknamed Meat Manor. Really, its true name was Henson Manor. Why it was nicknamed Meat Manor had a lot to do with the murders, bodies and people who all were a part of the house’s history. They weren’t polite folk, for the police knew their reputation well, including the undertakers who took care of their eulogies. No one could prove the Henson family was responsible for the deaths of so many women, but those who pointed a finger couldn’t believe that they got away with it and never once prosecuted.
The house was four story’s high. With reddish shingles curled upward from the decades of wind storms and rain. The exterior red painted faded to pink patches which revealed the dull gray exterior wood holding the house together. The wood looked feeble enough to the eye, termites probably moved on since then.
The yard was overgrown with brown foliage. A lot of tall weeds grew up taller than the grass, the weeds owned the lawn.
Todd looked about the rotted scenery, pushing his face through the space between the rusty bars. He searched for the activity that dogs might be in there guarding the place. He rattled the gates violently and stepped back.
Nothing. Not a sound of padded paws and growling, or the apparent jingle of a dog’s collar- only the crackle of dried leaves pressing along solid surfaces greeted his ears. He couldn’t simply open the gates; there was a sturdy padlock and chain holding both sides closed. It was a typical place that only the movies would use. He immediately thought about Norman Bates, but the manor, didn’t look a thing like Norman’s old house. It was almost box-like, had a few gabled windows and brick work, but nothing close to other mansions used in movies. In its prime the home must have been cozy-looking, not elegant or stately, but cozy.
Quickly, he climbed up the right gate, keeping his footing from slipping. The rubber soles of his aged sneakers made perfect slide-resistant fence-climbing a breeze. The top of the gate was pointed, sharp like a razor. As if a sadist had come up here one night and took a file to it. If someone wanted to climb over the fence and happen to slip-up he’d cut his gut open or worse, impale himself. Using his backpack to cover two points, he stepped over the top, retrieved his packsack and hopped down twice to get to the other side.
Both of Todd’s feet hit the hard ground which was made up of broken cobble stone, weeds had separated the stones, ruining the fancy patterns that was once an artistic driveway.


Sue had missed the last bus- the very bus that stopped everyday outside her apartment doors. Her short trip to the washroom.....

The rest of the story was featured on my website.

Kane

onyxprop

but it contains graphic content and swearing, so if this stuff offends you don't read.

ahhh, I have a lot of friends that hate horror stories and would like to be forwarned. But if you didn't read it or are just being rude to me for the sake of being rude, ok, your choice. I said it wasn't great, i know, but it's because i was embarrassed

Kane

I didn't read it because you told me it wasn't great. If you already know it's not that good, I won't waste my time reading it or trying to tell you that it's not good. I wasn't being rude. If you'd like to go through your story and work on it until it's as good as you think you can do, then I would be more than happy to read it and see if I think it can be improved upon. I said what I did because I wanted to point out that if you preface your story with a claim that it's not great, you are going to color the opinion of anyone who reads that line.

Like I said... go through it, polish it up, improve upon it and, when you think you can do no better, repost it.

deviger

Some constructive crit.

I didn't find the dialog very convincing. Think about how people really talk.

A lot of gramatical errors, bad word choice, and funny phrasing.

To me it reads like an old EC Comic. (Tales from the Crypt, etc.) You may have being going for that style, in which case good job. But really, few people will want to read a full novel or short story for that matter written in that fasion. It just reaks of amature. Sure you can write in a campy manner, but make it your own.

onyxprop