cross-posted from: https://lemmy.world/post/33671705

Author's note: This was almost infuriating. I only kept a Reddit account to respond to r/writingprompts then they deleted the person's prompt for a stupid reason, so because I didn't want to have wasted my time, here is the prompt I found and responded to.

"A serial killer is going around your town. As a master necromancer, you think it would be funny to revive their victims." Credit unknown

And here is my response:

"There he is!" the disheveled man in scrubs panted in disbelief as he pointed at the wealthy guy in a crisp, black suit. "That's the guy who tried to murder me!" His shirt was bloody and an IV hung from his arm.

The night was about an hour old at this point and I could see the seven-eleven guy just shaking his head in disapproval at what I just did.

"You need help, sir." the man in the suit defended himself.

"I'm serious" the man in scrubs confesses to a group of people in the parking lot watching and filming TikToks from their phone. A woman in braids who looked like she might be college age started laughing.

"No, everyone, this guy is my killer. He has a whole dungeon in his basement"

The woman threw out a sarcastic comment like it became her mission to make this endeavor more dramatic for her followers. "I'd really wanna to see that" She winked and thrust up her head like it would make the business owner respond.

The scrub-garbed man looked at the cluster of faces slowly becoming disinterested and about to get back in their vehicles. He pointed at me and I just knew what was going to pour out of his damn face hole.

"Ask that guy. He brought me back to life this afternoon. I was fortunate to get past all his crude attempts at escape deterrents."

He looks at me. "Did you really think all those bear traps and Saw-esque contraptions would hold me. You suck at engineering. And the fucking doorknob wasn't even hot enough. You clearly didn't watch home alone."

"Uh' I paused, "Are you done your rant!? I didn't want you to leave my apartment for this very reason. You can get justice after I get a slim jim and a slushy. In the mean time, why don't you go back to my apartment from the back entrance with this key and get dressed. You have to be well dressed for your hunt"

And I wanted to be front row to this debacle. The business suit guy pulled out a pistol and aimed it at me. "YOU!" He yelled some obscenities and went on, "You are going to make me late for my date"

I remembered that I knew more than necromancy. With the gun still pointed at me I snapped my fingers expecting the time stopping technique to work. Everyone just stared at me looking confused. I booked it. I remembered to zig-zag as I ran so he couldn't get a clear shot. I could hear the reanimated guy yelling at me and closing in. The content creator must have been close because I could hear her "narrating" like this was really that interesting content.

Dammit, I might go viral tonight, I said to myself. I gotta get back to my apartment. That Temu witchcraft and necromancy kit has to have something about actually reversing time. I start running so fast that I could trip at any moment and my ankles are on fire.

I lost them for a while but they will be here soon enough. A strange figure sat in the corner of a nearby alley in a brown robe with a smile on his face. I am hopeful that this guy is a fellow practitioner of the occult, so I ask him. Turns out he was just a junkie trying to score and I was in his way so he pulls out his knife and thrusts it in my direction. I managed to dodge him and keep running.

I lost them completely and it seems as I disappear into a crowd of night-goers. across the street, There is a well dressed guy and he points at me as his arm loosens from his date "Hey, aren't you that guy who broke into my morgue all this month? Yeah, it is you. Hold on" He pulls out his phone and takes a picture "Hope you like six-by-eight foot cells and daily booty calls. I'm calling the cops"

I really have to rethink this whole thing. I start running again until I realize I have been going in a loop. There was the seven eleven. Oh, maybe Amir will help me hide. He seems to like my business and we have pretty interesting conversations.

I rushed into the store.

"Don't steal anyth-, Oh, It's you. We are currently getting a new slushy machine, you will have to try the one on seventeenth st-"

"Wait, Amir, you have to hide me. You know the other week when you said I would never amount to anything and I should quit trying to be something important?"

"Vaguely, sounds like something I might say"

"Well, I bought a 'kit' for raising the dead from an advertisement I saw while doom scrolling. I compulsively bought it thinking it was a scam. And, well. the killer on the loose is actually my ex-wife's lawyer. And I broke into the morgue and brought back to life his last victim with it"

He burst into a rollicking laugh, "You mister Seth, are a funny man. I haven't laughed like that since my youth. You get these." He hands me some KitKats and smiles, "on the house"

"No, you idiot. Hide me. Behind the counter or something. Wait, don't you have a gun behind that desk"

"I might but it's not for you"

"I need it, my life is on the line. The killer AND the victim are after me."

"Wow, you can't even do vigilante justice right."

"I'm a necromancer!"

"Well, can't you just reanimate your own corpse"

"It doesn't work like that, gimme the damn gun"

"Just make sure you bring it back, and wipe off the prints, I don't want to get caught up in your chaos"

I grabbed the piece and bolted out the door. They had to be around here. There was a lot of disruption on Henry street so I went that way.

I saw a few figures arguing but it wasn't them. I spent about ten minutes perusing the streets until I realized that the killer was long gone and was never going to show his face again, tonight. He was for another day, I had to rewrite history and put this other guy back to sleep but where did he get to? I had a facepalm moment, Oh, he has my key, he is at the apartment.

I snuck in with the spare key and found there was no one home. I looked out the window and saw him on the second floor porch.

"What the hell. man this key doesn't work, just give me some clothes"

"Sorry man, I can't mess with the dead or Temu any longer. You belong at that morgue"

I pointed the gun directly at his head. I paused and thought for a moment, then threw the gun on the ground. I, I couldn't do it. I am no killer. I threw the gun into the dumpster below. "What's your name? I'm Seth"

"Ben"

Let's get you some clothes, we have work to do. I've got a case of beer for us in the fridge.

---

In a near abandoned seven eleven, Amir puts on the news "Tonight, investigators find what they think is the weapon used by the suspect in this haunting series of murders along the main line." Amir, immediately, opens the register and empties the drawer into his bookbag. "I'm going to Mexico"

Artist unknown.

I need help finding this one viral horror story. It described two twenty year old college students and their girlfriends camping in an old RV. They were in an upstate Pennsylvania town in the Poconos during the fall. They spent a few nights playing hold ’em, Jenga, and truth or dare.

One night, the MC, Chase, pulled some shrooms out of his bag and dared the loser of a game to try it with him for the first time. They ended up having a wild night but it was suspicious because it wasn’t Chase’s girl who volunteered but his friend’s girl.

They snuck away from the campsite and fooled around a bit to find the other two passed out drunk laying over one another. They were still coming off their high so they remained unable to really perceive the affair that might have occured while they eloped. In the morning only the two college guys were in the side camper, but the windows were broken, the siding was severely dented and the door was ripped clean off. They checked the RV to see if the girls were in there but the windows were also broken and the sides were smeared with blood. They entered their RV and found shreds of clothing and a shoe of Chase’s girl.

They were suspicious and terrified. Either there was a bear or there was a person that they needed to make a police report. Chase had a warrant so he didn’t want any law enforcement involved. They both agreed to handle it on their own.

I remember that it ended with something along the lines of a “Blair-Witch-esque cult” that may have abducted them and was farming them for their blood to be used in sacrifices. They were kept alive in the basement of an abandoned factory on the edge of a city nearby. One of them managed to get loose from her restraints but they had her drugged and she could barely walk.

The two guys managed to get a lead somehow, possibly a nearby witness to the kidnapping. They mentioned two guys in road worker uniforms coming out of a utility truck that went east. The two followed the clues and only found two factories both completely abandoned and empty. No luck whatsoever.

When they stopped to get more gas, they encountered a trucker who asked why their hands were covered in dried blood. They explained their situation and the trucker told them to follow him to his destination and that he might be able to lead them to their girlfriends.

When they arrived in an empty parking lot and were out talking and distracted, two disguised men came out of the truck and knocked them out, and the trucker lifted their unconscious bodies into the truck.

They remained missing for months until Chase escaped in hopes of returning to rescue them. Unfortunately, he was apprehended by police who ran his info and arrested him for his outstanding warrants. He tried explaining about the others but they didn’t believe him after getting drug test results and finding all the stash of drugs he had in his cargo pants pockets.

Then, I don’t remember whether it just ended there or not, so I did a Google search and nothing. I searched and searched but found no trace to any avail. I needed to know the end of the story. It was eating me up inside.

So, I had to put myself in Chase’s shoes. How would he get released and save his three friends? I had a crazy idea to go out to the woods in the Poconos and camp there. I had no RV or camper and barely any money for a tent but I managed with just my Jeep and a cheap Walmart tent. I made sure to bring one key item–psylocybin mushrooms. I had to call up a bunch of old shady contacts from before I got fully clean. I set up camp and enjoyed myself in hopes of unlocking the memory.

Two nights passed and I almost ran out of food, but it really clicked in my mind: I know what I was missing. His name wasn’t Chase, it was Chance.

I quickly turned on my phone hoping to get  a signal–none.

I got in my jeep, it was about 4 in the morning and I rushed back home to use wifi. As soon as I got in, I googled the same story with Chance instead. I found a blog with the story in question. Eureka!

I read it till the end and boy, I won’t spoil the clever thing Chance did to save them and clear his charges. But you can find it, the story is called “No Game Of Chance” and…..and…..it was by……….me!?!?

I pulled out my other laptop, and did a file search, there it was–not one but several folders in odd locations some on the desktop, some in my documents, others in obscurely named folders that also contained some gruesome fetish art. This had to be a joke. I kept looking through my files and found a document labeled “This isn’t the first, and it won’t be the last”.

I opened it to find a letter addressed to myself, from myself. It explained that I thought I might be going insane. It noted symptoms of schizophrenia and other symptoms that suggested I should consult a doctor.

I booked an appointment that morning with a psychiatrist. A week later when it came time to see her, I chickened out and was scared they might test me for certain drugs. I didn’t need another thing on my record. So I never showed up, but I did drive around an area in a similar town near the Poconos. The story I read had really detailed and specific descriptions of the factory. So much so that I wondered if I had been there before, maybe to do research in order to have a realistic and genuinely convincing setting. I found a similar abandoned factory on the edge of town. I looked around to see that no one followed me or that anyone was nearby. I pulled a crowbar out of my car and a tool box and began prying off boards. I had to unscrew a door hinge and I was in.

The place reeked of rotting wood, rust and water damage. I searched up and down to see the description of where I wrote the captives were held. I found the deadbolted door and began trying to open it. About an hour of effort passed and it finally budged. This would have been a good place for a deranged person to hide captives, I said to myself as I removed the last board.

I felt a vibration under the floor. I thought it might be an animal but then I heard a whimper. Oh, no! This….this is… I ripped and pried off the wooden hatch. And…THERE. THEY. WERE.

Oh, SHIT! Are you guys okay!? I ripped off some duct tape

P.. pp.. she shivered, Please d..don’t hurt us….let us go… we won’t t..tell anyone about you or your g..g…goons.

Goons? I had help!? I thought to myself.

No, you don’t understand, I think I am on some bad type of shit. None of this was intentional. You have to understand, I have no memory of this.

I wanted to tell them about the blog and the story and everything but they would think I was crazy. I thought I was crazy.

I will let you guys go, this isn’t me.

I started to think up a lie and that the others drugged and threatened me and that I was a slave just like them, but before I could,

CRACCCCCKK!

Everything went black.

…

There stood Chance. My crowbar in his hand now covered in blood.

Hurry up, He called. They could be back any minute.

He quickly ripped off the tape on their mouth, and cut the ropes with a knife to unbind them. He explained as they ran that he was on bail until his trial and that his appointed lawyer promised he would only have to do rehab and no jail. They were happy he was alive and came to their aid.

The affairs and what happened at the camping trip were never mentioned again by them, an unspoken agreement.

…

As for me, I layed there, on the factory floor, slowly bleeding out, my vision coming back faintly and in the dark. I could hear the distant blaring of sirens, they echoed through the corridors of my head.

I struggled to get up and to maintain my composure. I stumbled to the wall for support. I thought that I should just turn myself in and cooperate. I was not fit for society. 

I fainted and collapsed onto the floor. When I awoke it was morning. No cops nearby at all. I was cold and my clothes soaking wet. I managed to stand up and turn on a light. The basement was partially flooded. A pipe in the corner burst and I noticed all my furniture is probably ruined. I looked next to my couch to see my laptop, and some remnants of the drugs I must’ve taken on the coffee table. I opened my laptop to see if it was all a dream of intoxication.

No weird documents, no files, no letter. No evidence whatsoever that I even write stories. Who am I?

Update: I am now in treatment with a good psychiatrist and therapist to aid with recovery from my addictions. I never mentioned my story, or what happened or hasn’t happened.  It has been about a year of recovery. However, I learned one big lesson not to go down the rabbit hole and leave my curiosities as is. It is really weird though, there is a guy who is the spitting image of Chance in my recovery group. That’s not his name thankfully, but he does have some peculiar scars I am too afraid to ask about. He never makes eye contact with me, I might find another group. I’m scared.

• T.M.

Every day there is a daily story to continue. You can add as much or as little as you want. Anyone can add to it. It is completely anonymous and requires no sign up.

Seemed pretty neat if you like writing from prompts and this kind of thing.

Lauren(Red Handed Denial), Linzey (The Anchor). Linzey has some killer vox here.

cross-posted from: https://lemmy.world/post/23186908

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