Halloween story contest and Links Here!


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5. Wacky Tales

The Annual Halloween Story Contest

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Halloween Story Contest.

Deadline is October 27th, 2014. All stories should be blogged on this link. Or Type written.


1. Story should be original

2. Story Can be any genre you choose, scary, funny, realistic, fantasy, etc…

3. Poems are Welcome.

Stories will be judged in 4 categories and prizes will be awarded to:

  1. Most Original Story

  2. Best Written Story

  3. Scariest Story

  4. Funniest Story.

A separate award will be given for poems.

What wins this contest is good writing. An original story, clear and interesting characters, and good descriptive writing .

The winners and the best of the bunch will be podcast here.

Good luck.

Ms. B.

Happy Halloween Links

Here are some links for Halloween:






Coloring pages and Halloween stories


6 responses

  1. Kylik C.

    We are on a way to Georgia and our Car got Robbed. Now we don’t have any way to get to Georgia and my aunts famous Halloween party.
    I was going to my Aunt Cicely famous Halloween Party. This is a great party she does her house up like haunted house, It’s dark and there are statues that come to life and scare you. We play really great games, a special kind of Hide and go seek, called Scary Hide and go seek . I invited Ms. Mary and Ms. Sweeney and Ms. Danielle to the party. We could not wait.
    I was going to take my grandfather’s truck Chevy Traverse. We were driving down 95 and we went to get gas. We parked our car and went into the store to pay for the gas and get some Barbecue chips. And all of a sudden a man jumped in the car. He stole our car. Now how would we get to the party.? And what about my Grandfather he was going to be so upset.
    We went to rent a car and we saw our car parked across the street. So we called the cops and they came sirens blaring, they arrested the guy and we were on our way . We made to the party I was dressed as Pimp. Ms. Sweeney as Cinderella, Ms. Mary was a Bug, and Ms. Danielle was a wrestler. We all got best costume prize. It was a great Halloween. And I brought my grandfathers car back best of all

    October 14, 2010 at 1:05 pm

  2. Enyjah

    By Enyjah
    Setting In Manhattan

    I love trick or treating with my cousin Denavio, But I needed a costume and
    It was Halloween So me and my brother Tsiah and my friends, Lee and Hakim were on our way to Times Square, to find a good costume. We were going to Trick or treating in Brooklyn. Trick or treating in Brooklyn is great especially with my cousin Denavio, we go with my aunt who lives in Coney Island, they have the really good candy.
    So we get off the Ferry because we are from SI. And we got on the train and got off at 42nd street. We went to a Halloween store. I got a great looking FBI suit my brother was going to be an Army man and Hakim and Lee got cop costumes. Now just as we were leaving the store this really big ugly, kid came and stole our costumes.
    We chased after him and his friends there were 6 big ugly guys at least 16 years old or maybe older even 18 . We chased them around a building ,they did n’t see us and we are very fast because we are on the Football team at home. So we snuck up on them and we got our costumes back. Now I have to tell we did have to fight them and we won.
    So now we went back on the R train to Coney Island to get my cousin Denavio, and we had the best time Trick or treating

    October 14, 2010 at 1:05 pm

  3. Rick D. Maloy

    Hello, Here is my entry to your Halloween Story Contest.

    by: Rick D. Maloy

    “I’ve been robbed!”
    The old man shuffled down the street looking for someone, anyone who would help him retrieve what had been stolen from him. He didn’t care that it was Halloween, or that he’d left his apartment wearing only a dingy, white tank-top, faded brown cords and his slippers. All Wilford Bishop cared about was recovering… his treasure.

    * * * *

    The temperature had tumbled ten degrees since sundown and was headed for the upper twenties. Short puffs of breath could be seen as Wilford continued down Pace Street, visibly shivering, arms held closely to his body for warmth, but with a look of grim determination in his steel-gray eyes.
    Soon, the sky darkened and the streetlamps began flickering to life. Patrick Adler and his fiancé, Marcy, were passing out candy and apples to the neighborhood children. However, the sight of a seventy-nine year old man in slippers was more shocking than any costume they’d seen that evening.
    “Get a blanket!” shouted Patrick as he jumped up and went to help the old man. Clearly he was disoriented and needed to get back to wherever he’d wandered from.
    “Hey there,” called Patrick as he rushed up and tried to steer Wilford towards his porch. “You look a little lost.”
    “I’ve been robbed,” replied Wilford and refused to change course. Patrick was surprised at how forcefully the old man had fended off any attempts to turn him and looked for Marcy for assistance. She quickly burst out the front door, carrying a heavy wool blanket
    “Who is he, what’s going on?” she asked.
    “Haven’t gotten that far, but he won’t come inside.” Patrick carefully draped the blanket over the old man’s shoulders and was relieved to see it accepted with a quick nod and a grunt of “thanks.” A moment later, Wilford suddenly realized that someone was finally paying attention to him and he stopped dead in his tracks.
    “I’ve been robbed,” he croaked out as forcefully as he could. “Someone’s stolen my treasure.” Then, more softly, he said, “Please, help me get it back.”
    “We’ll help you, Mr.…?” questioned Patrick searching for an answer to the man’s identity.
    “Bishop, Wilford Bishop.” The old man’s gaze never left the road before him. “He went down this street, I can feel it.”
    “Why don’t we call the police?” suggested Marcy. She too wanted to get Wilford out of the chill night air and into their house.
    “No! No police, I can find him, I can feel it.” Wilford pulled away from Patrick and resumed his trek down Pace street. The couple exchanged nervous glances, then Patrick said, “Get the car, I’ll stay with him.”
    The moment Wilford saw the shiny SUV pull alongside, he wasted no time in crawling into the back seat. To Patrick and Marcy, it was one step closer to getting him home. To Wilford, it was a faster way to recover his treasure.
    “Turn left up here,” urged Wilford. He waved a wrinkled hand at the upcoming intersection.
    To his surprise, Marcy continued straight. The local police station was only three miles away and she was sure they could take care of this poor confused man better than she and Patrick could.
    Wilford’s eyes grew wide at the deception and he swung his head around to keep sight of the turnoff. “No,” he moaned and pointed out the rear window, “that way.”
    Patrick noticed how pale the old man had suddenly become. His breath started coming in short gasps and he had difficulty holding his head up. Wilford slouched forward and Patrick struggled to hold the old man up off of the floor. His skin felt cold and clammy, like something half-dead.
    “Turn back,” cried Wilford. “Turn back or I’ll die!”
    Several agonizing seconds passed as Marcy struggled with what to do. Clearly the old man believed that he would die if they didn’t return to the intersection and resume the pursuit of the thief. Another anguished cry was all it took; she whipped the SUV around the next corner and began backtracking.
    Wildford’s cries of pain subsided. He straightened and brushed a wisp of gray hair out of his eyes. Patrick was relieved to see some of his color return and his breathing smoothed out. Within seconds, the old man’s eyes were scanning the streets and intersections for the thief and his treasure.
    “Do you need a doctor Mr. Bishop?” asked Patrick timidly. The memory of how the old man had appeared just a few moments earlier still burned before his eyes.
    Wilford jerked his head towards the younger man, clearly startled at the question. “What are you asking me that for? Keep your eyes out there!” Again the wrinkled hand pointed towards the upcoming intersection.
    Wilford’s attention to the passing houses and scenery grew more intent as they turned down the street he’d pointed to earlier. There were many more trick-or-treaters here and Marcy slowed the SUV as a precaution. Surprisingly, Wilford didn’t complain. He leaned closer towards the window glass and keenly looked over each passerby.
    “Did the thief wear a costume?”
    “No,” answered Wilford curtly. His features wrinkled sourly at the question, then he said, “…but he’s close, I can feel it!”
    Block after block the trio slowly cruised down the street. After a few minutes, the children thinned out and the houses began to look shabbier, more run-down.
    “I don’t think we want to go any further,” said Marcy. She feared the sight of a shiny new SUV in this neighborhood might attract the wrong kind of attention. She slowed the car and began looking for a place to turn around.
    “Keep going!” shouted Wilford shrilly. “We’re close… I can FEEL it!” He began rubbing his chest as if it were itching or tingling; “Just a little further.”
    Marcy’s fears grew as she saw a small yellow sign with bold black letters. “DEAD END.” A sickening knot of fear began to tighten in her stomach. “I can’t go any further,” she said in a nervous whisper. The SUV came to a stop; Patrick and Marcy both turned and looked to the old man for their next move.
    Wilford was ghostly pale, his eyes were clenched tight and his mouth gaped open as if he were experiencing pure horror.
    “He’s …opened it! He’s opened my treasure!”
    A high-pitch scream ripped through the cool night air. A teen-aged boy in ripped jeans and a faded orange sweatshirt suddenly exploded from a nearby alley and raced past the SUV. Patrick couldn’t see much in the pale yellow glow from the streetlamps, but boy’s expression was near hysterics. In a matter of seconds he was out of sight.
    “I can… feel it…,” moaned Wilford as he clutched at his chest and fell forward. Patrick slid across the seat and lifted the old man back into the seat. The wane light played across his features and revealed a corpse. A thin trickle of blood snaked down his cheek.
    Marcy took one look and began sobbing uncontrollably. Her nerves were at the breaking point and she could bear no more.
    Patrick gently lifted the blanket and covered the old man’s face. His problems were over, but the mystery remained. He saw the alley where the teen had emerged and knew he had to find Wilford’s treasure. There would be no peace in his mind till he knew.
    He slipped out of the SUV and scrambled towards the alleyway. There were few lights on in any of the houses and he doubted the residents would care anyway – especially after the horrible screams the teen had made with no response. He picked his way closer, then paused as he heard a strange sound coming from the alley. It sounded slightly familiar. As he rounded the corner, several furry creatures fled into the shadows. One larger animal remained. It was busily working with whatever it had on the ground before it. Patrick inched his way closer and noticed a small metal case – bent and dented – lying open near the animal. Clearly, the teen had forced it open and had gone screaming into the night at the sight of its contents.
    The long-tailed animal finally sensed Patrick’s approach. It raised its blood-smeared head, hissed evilly – revealing curved yellow teeth – then followed its brethren into the darkness. Patrick forced himself closer and bent over to see what lay on the ground near the case. A sickening odor of something rotten filled the air. As he bent closer still, he thought he saw something move.
    A second blood-curdling scream filled the night as Patrick discovered the old man’s treasure. There, in the dim half-light of the alley, lay the remains of Wilford Bishop’s heart. Almost unrecognizable, it pulsed weakly, then quivered and finally lay still.
    He staggered out of the alley, mind reeling at the impossibility of what he’d seen. Marcy, her head now resting against the steering wheel, was still sobbing as Patrick slid in to the back seat. The blanket had slipped off of the old man. As Patrick reached up to replace it, he saw something strange near the collar of the old man’s tank top. With trembling fingers he pulled open the shirt and revealed a long, half-healed, surgical scar. He replaced the blanket with a flip of his hand and fell back against the seat. Through closed eyes he remembered the blood-smeared rats, the ravaged heart and Wilford Bishop clenching at his chest and swearing he could… feel it!

    October 14, 2010 at 4:30 pm

  4. Hello. Here is another entry to the Halloween Story contest.

    “Encounter with the Troll”
    by Rick D. Maloy

    The instant the flashlight was knocked from her hand, and she realized what was happening, Jennifer began to scream. Her cries only angered her attacker. He brusquely seized her, and in the scuffle, Jennifer was knocked unconscious.
    She had gone on the forest hike to escape the craziness of the holiday season. Halloween was just some commercial opportunity to sell costumes and candy – not to mention the plethora of orange and black decorations. She hoped a day or two alone in the wilderness might help clear her mind of the glitzy chaos.
    When she awoke, it was still dark. The air was filled with the crashing and snapping of trees, as the creature that held her smashed its way through the thick vegetation. Jennifer tried to wriggle free from the iron grip, but only managed to increase the tightness of the fingers binding her.
    Fingers, she thought. Something is holding me in its hand! The thought nearly started her screaming again, but she caught herself and tried to relax instead. The scent of the creature was of something incredibly old – musty, moldy…ancient. The stars she could see revealed a silhouette of a massive head with a long crooked nose. The creature’s breathing sounded raspy, like two slabs of stone grinding against each other. As long as she was being held, there was little else she could do but watch and pray for the best.
    The journey took hours, but Jennifer finally felt the grip about her loosen as the creature bent over and placed her at the entrance to an immense, stony cave. She thought to flee inside, but the stench of death and decay prevented her from escaping. The dawn was approaching and she could see that the cave was high on a mountainside – miles from where she’d been hiking. She began to fear for her life.
    “Who?” grated the creature. Its deep-set eyes stared down at her, waiting for an answer.
    “Who…am I?” asked Jennifer weakly. “My name is Jennifer.
    “Jenfer,” replied the creature. He straightened and with a sweep of both arms he said: “Mine.”
    “Your…what? Your mountain?”
    “MINE!” he grumbled louder. Jennifer felt the ground tremble with the statement.
    As the sun was about to rise Jennifer could see more detail of the creature’s body. It stood nearly twenty feet tall with crude linen cloth for clothing. It had the shape of a man, with clumps of moss and dirt clinging about its head and shoulders. As she looked, she recalled something she’d read in a college mythology course.
    “You’re a… troll, aren’t you?” she asked. Her voice trembled – so much that the words had to be forced out.
    “Vashkin,” was the reply. “Last Mountain Troll.”
    “Why am I here?” pressed Jennifer. She hoped that if she better understood her predicament, the better her odds of escaping.
    “This… my place,” said Vashkin with another sweep of his arms. “You outsider, you mine.”
    “What are you going to do with me now?”
    “EAT.” The answer chilled Jennifer, because it actually seemed to please the
    troll to tell her.
    She began backing into the cave. The smell could be ignored if she could live even a minute longer. Trolls, she thought. Her mind began racing, searching for any memories about trolls and their habits. How do you stop a troll? The sight of the giant moving towards her pushed all rational thought aside. Escape was her first priority.
    The cave was huge. Jennifer was surprised at how far into the mountain it led. Unfortunately, the deeper she fled, the darker it became. Finally, she could see no further and had to huddle next to the wall. She hoped that the troll’s eyesight was no better than hers.
    A sharp sound came from the entrance of the cave. Jennifer knew she’d heard this sound before, but she couldn’t remember where or when. The answer came in the form of flickering light that danced on the walls of the cave.
    Flint against steel, thought Jennifer. The troll knows about fire. She suddenly realized, that with a torch, the troll would be able to follow her deeper into the cave. She had to find a hole or niche to slip into. There was little in the way of hiding places, but Jennifer finally stumbled across a pile of rotting bones. The troll’s footsteps were growing nearer and she frantically covered herself with as many of them as she could move.
    The jarring of the troll’s footsteps nearly shook the bones off of Jennifer and she tried to hold the largest ones in place. The light from Vashkin’s a torch illuminated the cave and Jennifer feared that she would be discovered. However the stench of the decaying flesh and bones masked her scent and the troll moved even deeper into the cave.
    Jennifer remained still. Her situation was too precarious to risk detection now. Again she tried to recall any memories on how to stop or elude a troll. Frustration burned in her brain as she fought past the legends, folklore and myth and searched for facts and tactics.
    Torchlight and shuffling footsteps signaled the troll’s return. The expression on his weathered face was glum. Vashkin showed no hint that he was still looking for Jennifer as he trudged back to the entrance of the cave.
    Jennifer could no longer endure the wretched stench of the bones and began moving them away from her. She gave a ragged sigh as she stood and saw that the troll hadn’t heard her movements. It was then, that she noticed that Vashkin had stopped well inside the cave. She could see him silhouetted against the daylight.
    Sunlight! That was the way to kill a troll. Jennifer knew her only hope was to get past Vashkin and lure him into the sunlight. She immediately began to cover herself with the bones again, being careful to leave one arm free. When she was ready, she tossed a bone deeper into the cave and hid. The troll snatched his torch and hurried towards the sound. The moment the flickering torchlight was no longer
    visible, Jennifer uncovered herself and dashed for freedom. The brilliant October sun nearly blinded her as she fled the cave and threaded her way down the side of the mountain. She was grateful that the troll was a giant, for it gave her an easy path to descend.
    A horrid, anguished scream made Jennifer jerk about in terror. Vashkin knew she’s escaped and would pursue his at prey sunset. Jennifer swallowed the knot in her throat and quickened her pace.
    By twilight, she had managed to put several miles between herself and the cave. However, she was still far from her original hiking trail. As she paused to catch her breath, she was certain she’d heard the steady pounding of heavy footsteps. Vashkin had left the cave.
    A wave of panic swept through her and she began running though the darkening forest. I need to find a road, she thought. If I can get a ride out of this forest, his forest, I’ll be safe.
    Another hour passed without sighting a road or another person. She inwardly kicked herself for choosing such a remote location to clear her mind. The sound of the footsteps was growing nearer by the minute and Jennifer knew if Vashkin caught her a second time there would be no escaping.
    Finally, she caught the sound of a passing car. Through the trees she could see headlights and the occasional sound of a dog. A search party! What will happen if Vashkin comes upon a group of intrudes in his forest?
    Jennifer shuddered at the thought and increased her pace. She had to get everyone to safety before Vashkin caught up to her.
    A deep growl filled the air behind her. The moon was out this evening and Jennifer was certain she could see the towering form of the troll moving closer. Her left foot struck something hard and she looked down to see… asphalt. She might have laughed with glee if her life and those of the rescue party weren’t in mortal danger.
    The glow of headlights was visible around a bend in the road and Jennifer began racing towards it.
    “Please don’t let him find me now…,” she screamed to herself. “…not when I’m this close.”
    “Randy! Randy…I’m here,” she shouted. She knew her boyfriend would be the first one out looking for her – and he was the only one who knew where she’d been planning to hike.
    “Jenfer,” grated Vashkin’s booming voice. To a stranger, it might have sounded like a gust of wind through the heavy forest.
    Jennifer rounded the bend and saw five cars lined up along the shoulder of the road. A large German shepherd began running towards her, barking excitedly. Jennifer anxiously watched as a dozen people emerged from the woods and began to move towards her.
    “JENFER!” shouted Vashkin as he burst out of the woods mere feet behind her. He seemed unconcerned that there were so many humans nearby. His attention was on retrieving Jennifer and having his meal.
    Screams of terror came from several of the searchers and Jennifer saw Randy reach for something on the front seat of his car.
    Oh, not a gun Randy,” she thought. It won’t do any good.
    Randy moved to the front of his car and nearly blinded Jennifer with a brilliant beam from a hand-held spotlight. The beam quickly shifted upwards and illuminated the head of the troll.
    Vashkin seemed dazed, never had he seen the sun rise at night. He covered his eyes with his hands and began backing away from the cars.
    “What’s happening?” cried Jennifer. Seeing Randy’s amazed expression, she turned and puzzled at Vashkin’s unexpected retreat. “What kind of light is that Randy?”
    “Two-million candle spotlight,” he said. His stunned gaze never left the towering creature as it continued to stagger backwards. “…bright as the noonday sun.”
    “Keep it on him!” she shouted. “It’s working.”
    Within seconds, four more beams snapped on and were aimed at the troll. Vashkin was hardly moving now. As the spotlights played over his body, cracks began to appear as he quickly turned to stone.
    “MINE!” he rumbled one final dying gasp.
    Jennifer began sobbing as she fell into Randy’s arms, realizing that her encounter with the troll was over and she’d live to tell the tale. She knew few would believe her, but now she’d have Vashkin’s giant stone figure – the last Mountain Troll – on route 56 as proof.

    October 15, 2010 at 8:30 pm

  5. Alec C. v50

    By Alec C. V50
    Halloween Night
    There was one night it was Halloween night. There were some kids that were scared. It was so scary that no one came out. Nobody’s Dad and Mom let them go trick or treating because there was a haunted house and a tree that moved. So Nobody went for Halloween candy.

    October 21, 2010 at 9:42 am

  6. Kayshawn r.

    The Skeleton by Kayshawn R.

    We went into the Haunted house and found the scary person. We ran from the scary Skeleton. He was big and bad and smelled really bad. Like junk he ate a pumpkin that was not cooked.

    October 21, 2010 at 9:44 am

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