Should I call it the Eli Roth Challenge?

Ok so I just read this article where Eli Roth was asked to come up with horror movie plots based on 3 of the least scary things in the world: Puppies, Balloons, and Kittens.

His answers are here: http://www.gq.com/blogs/the-feed/2013/03/horror-master-eli-roth-can-make-anything-scary-even-puppies.html?mbid=social_twitter_gqmagazine

Hehe. Yay Eli Roth!

I immediately felt like taking up this challenge (only I tweaked it a little to writing 3 short stories instead of coming up with 3 movie plots). And having nothing better to do for this past hour I have amused myself by penning the following 3 tiny tales of terror as inspired by puppies, balloons, and ribbons. Enjoy!

 

Puppies

The old house had been abandoned for as long as he had lived. Vines had claimed the rotten fence, the unruly garden sprawled across the path, and the dust and mould had claimed the rooms inside. Daylight made the place seem sad, but night made eerie shadows and brought an ominous silent menace to the street.

Of course once dared  to he had to go inside.

Shining his flashlight in all he could see was peeling paint and unswept floor boards. Creeping deeper he brushed away the cobwebs that were drifting before his eyes. Door after door all he could see were empty rooms. He felt himself relax as his fear faded into a sigh of relief. There really was nothing here. But what had he expected? He turned back and then a sudden sound made him freeze. He stood still while his heart raced and he strained his ears to hear again.

There it was. A little bark. More like a whimper. He knew that sound – it was the sound of a puppy in pain. Poor little thing must’ve wandered in and then got stuck somewhere. Flicking the light from side to side he moved towards the sound. It was the last door down the hall. It opened with a creak and he shone his light down the stairs into the basement. The little yelping sound came again and he walked carefully down the stairs. Suddenly the door above him slammed shut.

The little whimpering sound came again, and again, then turned into a laugh. A sinister, cackling laugh. Then a voice from out of the shadows called “Heeeere, boy....”

 

 

Balloons

“This is a terrible party,” Dave said as he pulled down another balloon and burst it under foot.

“The entertainment hasn’t arrived yet,” replied Donna.

“Entertainment? You mean the fortune-teller? Don’t make me laugh.”

“Scoff if you want,” replied Donna, “But she has powers.”

The night wore on, tedious and long. Finally Dave found himself sitting opposite Mystic Miriam while she stared at his palm.

“I sense you are sceptical,” she said.

"No shit.”

“This line here, it is your life-line. I can see from it that you are not long for this world.”

“Bull shit.”

Dave wandered away and sauntered up to the bar.

“Sorry Sir, but we stopped serving at 12. Didn’t you hear the last call?”

“No, I was with Mystic Miriam. Dammit.”  

He glanced around and saw Miriam packing her van. On the ground was a case of bottles. He stalked closer, glanced around, hastily grabbed a bottle and ducked around the corner. He downed the sweet contents in a gulp. It was the best drink he had ever had!

Suddenly the world seemed to be a bright shade of orange. He felt so light, like all the cares of the world had fallen away and he was floating slowly, falling gently towards the earth. He tried to get back up, but he couldn’t. Damn it was strong stuff. He could see Donna moving towards him. She stopped right next to his face. Then she slowly lifted her foot, her thin high heel poised above his head.

“What are you doing?” he tried to yell, but no sound came, save an oddly familiar little squeak.

Then Donna’s foot came rushing down toward him and the last thing Dave heard was a loud bang.

 

 

Ribbons

She was a tiny little thing, in a frilly lace dress, shiny shoes and smiling cheeky smiles. She sat in the garden in the warm sunshine brushing a doll’s hair. The detective stood and watched the idyllic, peaceful moment as she wound a pretty ribbon around the silky hair of the little doll and pulled it tight. He sighed to himself and prepared to walk into what he had been told would be the worst crime scene of his career.

His sight stayed dark and hazy after the brightness of the day. The contents of the room had been so violently thrown about. Shattered glass and pools of blood snaked trails across the floor. Lifeless lumps of flesh lay silent under heavy shrouds.

He walked toward the smallest of the covered corpses. Bracing himself he pulled back the sheet and gazed down at the small child. The bulging eyes, glassy and unblinking, sent a thrill of terror through his gut. Then he saw the pretty ribbon wound around the neck and pulled tight.