So I have been working (on and off) on a new horror story called "Whiteshape", which I am quite pleased with as an idea. Writing it has been a bit slow going, but today I found this little snippet kicking around my computer, and I quite like it... So I think I might go back to this one sooner rather than later...
"Shh" whispered Anne, "Or the whiteshape will get you."
Jake shivered and shut his mouth. He remembered Anne telling him about the whiteshape, a thing made of mist and evil. It had the power to turn a person's laughter into screams and make screams sound like laughter.
"You cannot trust what you hear when the whiteshape is near," Anne had told him, and nodded solemnly.
"We must hunt it down," said Christopher, pushing his glasses up his nose and frowning thoughtfully, "My Mum says that you must always face your fears, or they will never go." He grimaced, "Which is why I'm going to the hairdresser's tomorrow. I made the appointment myself."
Jake smiled.
"You're scared of going to the hairdressers?"
"Of course," said Christopher, "You never know if they might slip and slice your ears off."
"Hairdressers are trained," Jake told him, "that's silly."
Christopher shrugged.
"I know. But at least hairdressers are real and I know where to find them. They don't come out at night and get into my room."
"Neither does the whiteshape," argued Jake.
"Not yet," said Christopher grimly.
* * *
"Shh" whispered Anne, "Or the whiteshape will get you."
Jake shivered and shut his mouth. He remembered Anne telling him about the whiteshape, a thing made of mist and evil. It had the power to turn a person's laughter into screams and make screams sound like laughter.
"You cannot trust what you hear when the whiteshape is near," Anne had told him, and nodded solemnly.
"We must hunt it down," said Christopher, pushing his glasses up his nose and frowning thoughtfully, "My Mum says that you must always face your fears, or they will never go." He grimaced, "Which is why I'm going to the hairdresser's tomorrow. I made the appointment myself."
Jake smiled.
"You're scared of going to the hairdressers?"
"Of course," said Christopher, "You never know if they might slip and slice your ears off."
"Hairdressers are trained," Jake told him, "that's silly."
Christopher shrugged.
"I know. But at least hairdressers are real and I know where to find them. They don't come out at night and get into my room."
"Neither does the whiteshape," argued Jake.
"Not yet," said Christopher grimly.
* * *
And that is all for today. Ta ta.
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