Horror Writing Competitions Novels & Stories

Stormclaw had tightened security significantly. My wolf was restless inside me, urging violence. He wanted to charge in, find Kiera, and tear apart anyone who stood in our way. But I suppressed the urge. This mission required patience, not rage. I recalled the announcement I’d heard echoing through the areas outside Stormclaw territory. The competition would be held in three days. That bothered me. Stormclaw never announced competitions in advance. They usually happened the same day, giving no one time to prepare or interfere. What kind of competition was this? I felt certain Zeus was up to something.

I ask, starring into her dark brown eyes. "Well, the fiction competition has a specific topic." She says, getting up and walking over to a filing cabinet. Miss Edwards is about 5' 5" tall and very well proportioned, with a thin waist, flat stomach and a tight, curvy ass. Her ass gets as much attention as her tits when the guys are discussing what they'd like to do with her. "The subject this year is ethics and morals. You'd have to write a short story with a main character who is struggling with a moral dilemma." She says, handing me the entry form and rules. I guess I know the subject pretty well, but I'm not sure I could submit a story about my current moral dilemmas. "Would you be able to

He only had to wait for Lucy to edit it. The feeling of satisfaction and relief washed over him that instant as he rested his fingers for a minute before going at it again. He had already written two collections of horror stories submitted to his editor. The intention was for some of the mild and medium scary tales to be published on paperbacks. However, the truly mind-blowing and sick horror stories were published digitally on web novel websites where he would have no problem bypassing censorship by replacing disturbing words with asterisks and euphemisms. The feeling of writing without being stared at by dozens of eyes from filthy beings made his mood ecstatic. His fingers were literally f

Competition for youth range nineteen to twenty five. And the last and Highest grade, Master Competition from twenty five to fifty five. I had started the competition for kids since I was five, I had won lots of awards. I use the money I get from that for anything I need. I had got viral recognition throughout the whole town since I was ten years old. I knew myself that I was gifted in anything fighting with hands and use of weapon also. When I was sixteen, I was preparing for a final competition that happened to be a huge competition as the winner would be paid huge amount of money. I can even remember anything close to the prize.

Bethany suggested, eagerly. “Exactly. We are in the optimum position to acquire information about our Herring, because it’s our job—especially as English teachers—to find out what things inspire him. Taking your idea, we can give out an assignment early in October to pick a piece of horror literature—modern, Gothic, poetry, whatever each student wants—and from that we can learn more about him.

I didn't know what contest they were talking about. “It is the biggest running contest of the year, allowing werewolves who are not part of our pack to participate. There are many werewolves from other packs who will come here to participate in this competition or to cheer for friends or relatives because if they have a record in the top ten in the competition, they will have a chance to become a member of our pak without having to take the entrance exam with many fierce categories.” A gardener explained to me. "Is that still the case?" I spoke up in surprise.

As a means of continue writing, he keeps his grandparents close to his heart and mind for always encouraging him to not give up. Brandon Ebinger Brandon Ebinger is a horror/dark fantasy author who lives in upstate New York with his fiancé and two cats. He holds a BA in creative writing. He enjoys horror films,Gothic rock and punk music and video games. He is a huge fan of haunted attractions, and spends October as a haunt actor. Brandon has written four horror/dark fantasy novels, Ash, Hollow Hills, The Afflicted and Rose. He has also published a handful of short stories within the genre. He has recently finished his most recent novel Broken Night and is at work on a new one.

All I have to do is ignore them, and I'll be fine. -------------------------------- "I really hate being in the library." Hilary complained. They were sent to the library to research about the history of their town through old newspaper articles. "Shut up, and help us. Come on." Henry, her twin brother said. "Hey, guys. Look at this." Xavier found a news article dated thirty years ago." Xavier announced. Everyone gathered around him, except for Landon. "Young boy found dead at the boy's locker room?" Olga read title of the headline.

I didn't want sarcastic comments right now. "Are those murmurs I hear?" she asked, and surprisingly, or maybe unsurprisingly, there was immediate silence. I continued to look at her, but made sure she didn't notice. I glanced around and saw flyers being handed out to all the contestants. When I received one, I looked at it and realized it contained the same information we saw on the websites. "As you all know," she began, "Blackwood's annual art gallery competition has been happening for a long time. Every year, three winners are chosen." She explained, and we all listened carefully.

Something that Ashley had put all the energy she had got to complete it. It was a competition open to all beings. Humans, Witches, Werewolves, Vampires.. all were welcome to join. But, no magic was allowed to be used to enter the competition. It would be assessed to be authentic with fair evaluation. A panel of esteemed judges would be present to perform the selection. Before Ashley could respond to Gina, she sensed someone was walking towards them. The scent was familiar and the sound of the heels belonged to one person Ashley recognised well. ‘No f*cking way.’ Ashley thought with hatred forming in her head.