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Best Stories on the Web

Beyond the Elder Tree

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It had seemed like a great idea at first: Timmy and one of his fellow scouts doing a wildlife survey on the small Channel Island of Mere. Two nights away camping with no adult supervision - Awesome!

Timmy had read up on the uninhabited island prior to the crossing. Mere was made up of rugged heathland and undisturbed woodland. With over forty native species of trees and shrubs Mere was a private wildlife haven for dozens of species of birds, red squirrels and a host of insects. Timmy loved conservation work and this was going to be a great weekend. That was until Lucas Jones volunteered for the second of the two places.

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Blood for the Blood God

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"Yes, now and forever" It whispers, followed by incoherent profanity...

The figure approaches the house, through the window it stares.

A grin appears on its face, "The time is near" it murmurs.

It walks to the back door of the house and walks in like it’s at home. Silently it floats up the stairs and enters a bed room. It pulls up its hood and pauses, it listens for a while to the soft breathing. It walks over and leans over the bed. It raises one arm forward, with the other it reaches into his robe and pulls out a cruel shaped ceremonial knife with kill written in blood all over the hilt. It pauses and then suddenly screeches as it slashes its wrist. Blood spurts all over the silhouette, There is no movement in the bed.

"Blood for the Blood God," it screeches.

Blood drips down the figures arm as a dark mist slowly engulfs the room, revolving around the shadowy figure slowly. The gash starts to close up and as the figure examines it’s now healed wound. The body in the bed suddenly sits up and turns its head to the figure robotically, his eyes glowing red.

"The path of destruction" the little boy says in a soft voice as he stands up.

The figure gleefully nods his head and starts to walk. The figure walks out of the room, down the stairs and through the back door of the house. The figure doesn’t look back once and the boy walks silently, lifelessly behind.

The boy listens to the figure as it gleefully mumbles incoherently to its self.

"Blood for the Blood God" it rambles over and over again more and more excitedly each time, sometimes jumping with joy.

Through the dark misty forest they walk together. The blood moon smiling at them as they arrive at an opening with a stone chair in the center, the boy walks over and sits down. The figure excitedly looks at the boy with anticipation. The boy stares off into the distance with a blank expression on his face.

The figure kneels and says "How may I serve you lord" as he removes his hood. Revealing a grotesque disease ridden face.

The boy with eyes glowing crimson red looks the figure in the eyes and utters "In death"

The figure now noticeably alarmed yells, "but, but, no, buu--t.."

He tried to flee, the space around them darkens and the black mist pulls him back and forces the man to kneel.

"Nooooooo!" he sobbingly screams.

A blood red circle surrounds the figure, markings form on its body and they too start to glow red. The figure is stretched out and across the circle without effort, left trapped and unable to move. The mist darkens further and engulfs the figure.

It wails "baahhh" as blood spurts out of the glowing markings in every direction.

It screams whilst its bones are being ripped out through its skin, they all snap and turn to dust, the remaining matter then explodes over and over again dispersing it over the vicinity. The cycle is repeated over and over again, the figure appears, it screams as it fades away only to come back again.

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Cry of the Wendigo

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The Wendigio is a supernatural, cannibal creature of Native American folklore, said to prowl the deep Canadian and Alaskan forests. In the southern United States, its counterpart, the legendary Rougaroo, combs the swamps for victims. On the western plains, it is known as the Camp Eater, devouring whole villages and tribes. All three possess incredible strength and speed, and the hunger of a werewolf. There is no escape for those who run afoul of such a beast.

This tale takes place in the frozen Alaskan wasteland, where an Aleut tribe has always known such monsters exist. They stand ready to kill anyone tainted by the curse.

*

The unfortunate young girl’s name was Akkilokipok; in the Aleut language this meant soft snow. And when Soft Snow became pregnant, she swore she had been with no man.

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The Pill

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I say to him “I thought you liked orange juice with the bits in it” and he says “No I like orange juice without the bits in it” and as it’s only been 45 minutes since he told me he bumped into Kate last night and she looked “pretty sexy…like some kind of, you know, hostess”, I take his glass of orange juice (with the bits in it) and I throw it across the room so it hits the corner of his wooden bed frame and smashes across the floor. I’m glad the little pieces of glass fly in all kinds of directions so I can only hope that he tramples on a chunk. I leave his stupid shared house, full of arrogant pigs, and I storm home to think about what I can do next.

I sit on my bed to gather my furious thoughts and then I hear an annoying, high pitched, buzzing sound coming from my dvd player. I consider throwing it out the window but it’s too heavy and I don’t want to make a mess. I pull the plug out and in a state of exaggerated rage I carry it to a charity shop. The sweaty and slightly overweight guy in the charity shop says “Thanks for your donation” and I go home, change my bed sheets and feel much better for 3 minutes. Then I think about smashing up everything in my kitchen but again, I don’t want to make a mess.

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Whizbang the Magnificent

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Whizbang the magnificent, he had added 'the magnificent' himself, had finally done it. After years of searching and studying he had discovered a spell that would transform him into the most powerful wizard that ever existed.

Now Whizbang was not, at present, a great wizard. He had some control over weather, and he was quite adept at handling lightning, but he dreamed of being WHIZBANG THE ALL-POWERFUL! He already had business cards printed, with bold lettering.

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Last one in the office

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From the 27th floor window, through glasses he hadn't cleaned since the morning, Greg tried to see what was destroying Queens and Brooklyn. He and Becky were the last ones in the Manhattan office. It was Friday at 4 pm, when no one at Five Borough Press stuck around, especially in Sales, where potential clients weren't there to schmooze. From what they could see, smoke extended from Long Island City to the Manhattan Bridge in what resembled a still tornado. Helicopters flew back and forth along the East River. Below, sirens overlapped and howls of panic joined the already noisy November wind.

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The Three Dolls

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Maaaammy” “Maaaammy” “Maaaammy”...the woman jolted awake and noticed the sun was going down. Three days before Halloween. The car rumbled on… more and more bone-bare trees appeared as they entered a deep forest landscape. As her little girl slept in the back of the car, Jane Wilson struggled to keep awake, casting the odd glance towards Andrew, her husband, his glasses flashing as he stared ahead, driving the car.

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The Oldest Woman in the World

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Carlo left his office around eight-thiry in the evening. His wife had told him that she'd be late home because of a work dinner, so he stopped off for a pizza at the Chinese takeaway just downstairs from his flat. As soon as he opened the flat door, he smelt a strange odour like something had gone off- not too strong, but annoying. He turned on the lights, put his pizza down on the kitchen table and checked the fridge. Apart from a carton of milk that went off yesterday which didn't smell yet, he couldn't find anything worthy of emitting such a sharp stink.

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The Point

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"Two hours," Kyle said.

I nodded.

"Two hours and that kid hasn't shut up for one minute.

Ray, let's just blow him away as soon as he comes out of the bathroom, we'll tell Jesse and Jay it was an accident."

"We can't do that.  Now just relax.  It won't be long."

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The Owl's Lullaby

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It was an early morning in the beginning of summer when sunrise gently lit surrounding areas. Leo Benecke paused for a brief moment. He bent down on one knee and touched a fresh grass laden with morning due - a moist kiss of the receding night. The landscape did not change in a hundred miles, but that did not make it any less stunning he felt.

Far in the front, rolling hills were ascending into the sky. Down in the valley a dense cedar forest stood like an impregnable maze. A lifting fog was slowly revealing the Rus River clad with sandy grass on its banks. Let me swim there tonight, Leo thought.

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