The Blues
by sir_bazz

Comment:
She crouched near the edge of the pool, at the spot where it had happened. She crouched there and released a single white rose on the water, a tear making a streak down her cheek, her chest threatening to erupt into uncontrollable sobs.

She'd lost him here, some weeks before, her sweet little boy, her life, her everything. She'd lost him here when he'd somehow got the back door open, while she was in the shower, and that door should have been locked, and usually was and it was all her fault and how could anyone ever forgive her? How could they, when she'd never be able to forgive herself.

She crouched there, and watched the rose float upon the clear blue waters and she did then start to cry, as the emptiness and loss and pain took over, and she closed her eyes and broke the surface of the water with a single finger, and begged whatever god was listening to bring her baby back...

...and that was when it grabbed her hand. Her eyes flew open in shock, and what she saw filled her with both terror and joy. What had seized her hand was him. Her little boy. Returned from his watery grave, and he stared at her through those goggles that he had loved so much, and he came out of the water, and his eyes were dark and dead and empty, and she screamed.

With a bubbly, choked voice he called out to her, "mommy, join me", and yanked her hand with a strength unfathomable. She tried to resist, because she suddenly realized with horror that this could not really be her boy, not really. This was something else, something horrible and evil and this was NOT HER BOY, but her strength gave out as she saw its face, and it grinned, just a little, but it was the grin of her baby, and her heart gave out and her eyes closed, and she let herself go.

She disappeared beneath the water, and the rose splashed back out onto the deck...

... and her body was never found.

Down on the Farm
by SaraR

Comment:
He stood there, ears perked, suddenly cautious and wary, perceiving the strange presence that had entered his field. Perhaps if he stayed still, did not move, it wouldn't notice him, this presence. This beast. This stalking hulk of a menace that surely meant to make him its prey, to devour him or tear him apart and he would never make it home to his family, and they had so many mouths to feed and what would his wife do without him and oh no, the beast was inching ever so closer, with that tangled hair and that smell of death about it and it wasn't working he couldn't just stand here like this it knew he was there and it was almost withing striking distance and he hadtogetawaygetawaygottogetawayrunRUNRRRUUUNNN!!!!

"EEEEEEE!!!" The creature cried, "It's a widdle bunny wabbit!!!"

He bolted.

Unfathom'd dells and undiscover'd woods
by Schmeldontino

Comment:
In the mists of time and place, along a path long forgotten, lies the way to a future that we can never conceive. As the mists coalesce into dew, building upon the boughs and the branches, to finally trace a path through the emptiness and strike the waters below, one man sets upon that path. Finding it by luck and random chance, lost for days in the thick and unforgiving forest, he goes to his knees and gives a thankful cry.

And so with one foot in front of the other, he sets off down this salvation, into the deepening fog, his form turning to shadow, then melting away, towards what he hopes is civilization and rescue. Instead, he unwittingly enters a world that is not his own, a world apart and between, a world of horror and fantasy, and is lost to time.

Our Youngest
by elru21

Comment:
Wow, you got top 10 with a baby shot!?

I bow to your magnificence!

Pay Phone
by bvy

Comment:
They had searched for him everywhere. When he disappeared the night before, after an argument that resulted in screams and tears and slammed doors, they thought that he'd just gone out to blow off some steam. They'd figured he'd be back once he'd calmed down, and thought things through and needed to be back in safer arms and a warm bed.

However, as the night wore on, and morning approached, and there was still no sign of him, they began to fear. The worry stretched in to anxiety, which then stretched into panic. The authorities were called, and by early evening the next day, the search parties were out. They combed the woods, they called the friends, they searched the stores and theaters and hospitals, but no trace was found.

Then, in the wee hours of that next morning, while darkness still lay over the land, the phone rang. Tearfully, his mother picked it up, and broke into a flood of emotion as she heard his voice.

"Mama, I'm so sorry, I just want to come home."

x X
by posthumous

Comment:
It had been the Summer Camp from hell, they had known this, but nothing could prepare them for the punishment they got after they'd put a frog in Susie's bed. Had they known, they probably wouldn't have done it. Had they known, they'd probably have tried running from that camp for their lives.

Billy and Keith probably would have done things differently, but now it was too late, and as they stood there desperately trying to keep the walls from closing in on them with what little meager strength they had, they could only regret.

It was definitely the Summer Camp from Hell.

party-party
by silverfoxx

Comment:
In the dead of the night they come. The wee ones, in their pointed caps and painted eyes, giggles as they leap and dance, giggles that seem to come from nowhere, and everywhere.

In the dead of the night they come, and they flit from shadow to shadow, and they consume of the crumbs on the floor, and they unravel your socks, and they hide your keys, and they make a merry mischief everywhere they go.

In the dead of the night they come, and they color on your walls with crayons and tangle the hair of your dog, and pour soap in your vents, and in the morning you blame it on your child.

In the dead of the night they come, and at dawn's first light, those giggles, the ones that have penetrated your dreams and made your sleep uneasy, those giggles cease and they disappear back into the holes and shadows from which they came, and you look all over the house for your slippers, which you swear were right there by your bed.

Late in Autumn
by bucket

Comment:
In the waning light of that Autumn day, she had wandered out to that spot. The spot where he had brought her so very often, to walk and to play, for a picnic in the sun, or snow-angels on a winter day. She knelt down with hat in hand, and gazed at it for a short time and remembered his laughter, his hugs, his stern reprimand for those times it was needed, the shine of his eyes when he smiled, the bark of his voice when he yelled.

She knelt there with his hat in her hands, and gazed to the sky and wondered what he was doing now. Was he gazing down upon her from somewhere? Was he thinking of her as she thought of him? The sun broke from the clouds just then, and shone upon her hair, and it seemed as if it was like a kiss from the clouds, a smile from the sky. With a tiny tear in her eye, she lifted his hat to the sunlight, and smiled despite that tear, and felt a comfort just then.

She knelt there, holding his hat high, and telling him in her own way that she'd never forget, never.

She got up, and hugged his hat close to her, and began to wander home, and her father would always be with her.

Beginning's End
by tate

Comment:
They sat upon the rocks that day, basking in the sun. It had been a wonderful day, full of laughter and frisbee on the beach, and drinks in the shade of the trees. It had been a wonderful day and now they had decided to sun themselves here along the path and talk about life and love and good times and friendships.

So it was, when one of them turned their head, and saw her. The child. She blinked, wondering how she had got past them without their noticing. The path was the only way to that lookout. She couldn't have just strolled by, could she? That little one with her red balloon. The woman began to say something to the others, but that was when the little girl turned her hooded head towards her, and looked her in the eye, and all the woman's words were cut off then, like a scalpel had nicked them from her tongue. Under that hood were a pair of eyes, that were not a little girl's eyes. They were not even human, those eyes, and they grabbed her and held her gaze, and would not let her go.

The woman desperately tried to call out to her friends, and a fear unlike any she had ever known grabbed her heart. The little girl (not a little girl! Oh no! This was no little girl!) was still staring at her, still grinning, and then she spoke, and the voice was soft and sweet and full of innocence, an innocence that was a lie.

"Pwease he'p me find my mommy, you can pway wif my bawoon!" She spoke, the words both coming from her, yet seeming to be right in the woman's head, like an echo, reverberating, ghostly.

At those words, it was as if the Woman lost control, and began to move. She stood up, to the puzzling looks of her companions and began to walk towards the specter of the child. She had a queer smile on her face, but there was also a tear in her eye. Her mind cried out against this, but her body moved on. The child beckoned and walked to the edge of the look-out. The woman followed. Her companions, thinking she was just stretching her legs, paid little attention, and paid the little girl none at all. It was as if she wasn't there to them.

With her inner mind screaming at her, and a tear finally tracing a line down one cheek, but that strange grin stamped on her face, she went to the child. She went to her to he'p her find her mommy. She went to her to pway wif her bawoon. She went to her, and kneeled down, and took her hand, and began to tell her that everything would be ok...

With shouts of alarm and shock, her companions watched her tumble over the edge, falling to oblivion below, and on the wind, a child's laughter.

metamorphosis
by cirrasch

Comment:
Carl was always known as one that was a bit strange. He never seem to fit in, danced to the beat of a different drummer, played with a different deck of cards.

So when they passed him and saw what he was doing with that empty husk of moulting, well, not too many of them were very surprised. They shook their heads and flew on. Poor Carl.