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I based this one on a spooky french movie I saw...
Harry, he’s here to help…
By Alex Holmes
Jeremy let go of the cliff and fell screaming. He landed at the bottom of the cliff with a sickening crunch. Jeremy’s body contorted, then relaxed. Only a few minutes earlier he was the local butcher, now he was dead. Harry released his foot from the position it had been in when he had stepped on Jeremy’s fingers. He knelt on the ground and said a prayer for Jeremy’s soul, then he smiled, got up, and walked away towards his read Porsche.
Martha stood outside her car-boot, loading the groceries into it. The night wind chilled her to the bone. She sighed. Having 12 children was not east, and she’d have to come back a second time, again! She was about to go ask the shop attendant to mind her shopping for her, when a red Porsche pulled up. Harry stuck his head out the window.
“Need some help?” he inquired.
Martha told Harry that she was fine, but he insisted on helping her with the groceries They drove away, Martha in-front, and leading the way. After several minutes something odd happened. Harry’s headlights flashed and rammed the back for her car. Martha started, and put her foot down on the accelerator, trying to get away. Why was this strange man doing this to her? Adrenalin pumping through her body, she slammed her foot down on the accelerator, jumping the car forward. Harry still kept nudging her. Then he stopped, headlights disappearing into the darkness. Martha sighed, relaxed, and looked away from the rear vision mirror to see the oncoming tree. There was fire, and the nothing. And Harry said a prayer, and smiled inside his red Porsche.
The Police cars raced at full pelt towards the shopping centre where the red Porsche was last seen. The detective asked the shopping attendant if he had seen anything. The attendant said he saw a man in a red Porsche who had helped Martha Wills, a regular customer. The detective swore under his breath. By the time they had reached Martha’s crash, it was too late.
Harry cruised the streets of Berlin, and the Porsche purred. Harry stopped and got out of the car. He walked along the cobbled streets, his wingtip shoes making a slight patter on the ground. A hobo lying on the ground grabbed at his feet. Harry crouched down next to the hobo.
“Hi, I’m Harry. I’m here to help.”
The hobo smiled, revealing rotting teeth and gums. Harry helped him into the passenger seat of the Porsche. Then they left Berlin, and headed for the autobahn.
The Porsche raced along the autobahn. Harry looked across at the hobo, who was fast asleep. Harry pulled the Porsche off the road, and let it coast to a stop. He shook the hobo.
“We’ve caught a flat. Would you mind helping me?” he asked. The hobo nodded, and got out. AS the hobo got down on the ground to check the tyre, Harry brought the crowbar down on the hobo’s head. He did this again, and again, and again. Soon all that was left was a bloodied pulp. Harry knelt on the ground and said a prayer for the hobo’s soul.
The detective that had been tracking the red Porsche, and the trail of death that followed it, swore once again under his breath. The maniac was always one step ahead. As the detective cruised down the autobahn, he focused on thinking where the Porsche could bee. Then, parked on the of the road, he saw a red Porsche with a dead body next to it, and a next to that, a man. The detective jammed his foot on the brakes, swung the car around, and jumped out. He sprinted towards Harry, who did nothing. The detective called for backup, and slapped the hand-cuffs on Harry. It was over. When asked why he did it Harry replied
“There was nothing else to do.” And when asked why he let himself be caught he said, insidiously “There’s more people to help in prison…”
Harry, he’s here to help…
Stuff Yossie....Very scary. Im here to help :shifty: ...
By day he fought with sword and shield.....
By night he fought with pen and parchment.....
He was....The Warrior Poet.......
Fear the ANZAC Clan!!!!!
ORDER OF THE SHADOWY FLAME!!!
Do you have uber micro...????
Real, non-fantastic horror is so much more scary than most other stuff. Excepting a very few supernaturally themed horror movies like The Ring, The Grudge, etc. Apart from that, only the sudden shocks can frighten me. Good work Yoss, very freaky, especially the name.
One thing to remember with horror stories, the more descriptive the story, the scarier the story (especially suspense thrillers). Up to a certain point, that is. Yours could have more adjectives, if you were willing to do a rewrite. However the fast pace you wrote the story in is very good at emphasizing the fact that these killings happen so fast, and that the Detective is alway one step behind Harry.
Though it is a toss up, I still say more adjectives. But that's just my opinion, of course, take it as you will.
I'm glad you all enjoyed it. ^_^
Thanks for the advice Rev, I'll see what I can do sometime.
Thanks guys! :yes:
Note: When I handed in my Folio of stories for English, my teacher though this was bad. bah!
Nuts to her Anne Maccaffreys book The dragons of pern got a F from her teacher but then she released it to the public and she's now one of the best authors around!Originally Posted by Lord Yossanrion
Fear The Wrath Of The ANZAC Clan!
All Bow For The Anime Clan!
When did I realise I was God?
Well one day I was praying and I realised...
I was talking to myself!
Primarch Of The Iron Clan
Not bad. A few spelling errors here and there, but nothing all too serious. Should Phobos decide to vent his authority on this thread, he will undoubtedly point out the seemingly inappropriate use of numbers in their numerical form.
Personally, however, I thought it was somewhat rushed... although the "I'm here to help..." repetition certainly adds a certain flavour to the story.
Thanks for the input fellas. I shall look out for Phobos. :ninja:
I would've made it longer, but my teacher would have owned me. ( I'll add more content (oh yeah) when I'm of school this year. (Only 2 more days!)
nice story Yoss, bit short for my tastes, but still pretty good
as for a teacher saying it was bad, my English teacher in year 12 complained about a poem I used as a folio piece, she said it had, wait for it, "Too Much Rhyming in it" :blink: :wacko:
Mysterious Member of the ANZAC Clan