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 Tales from the Crypt Fan Fiction Contest

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Commander Wolffe

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PostSubject: Tales from the Crypt Fan Fiction Contest   Fri Oct 05, 2018 10:47 am



Vamp Bat Greetings mortals and welcome to the Crypt.  Vamp Bat
A place filled with dreadful and terror filled stories.
Starting today as of October the 5th we bring back the Fan Fic contest to see what kind of grizzly tales you can conjure from the darkest abyss of the mind.

The contest shall run in parallel of our site's theme and screenshot contest until November the 1st.
After the submission period is over, a team of undead will deliberate and they will announce the winners

Besides dead bodies and dreadful tales The Crypt also hosts a few treasures:

3. Everyone who participates receives a guaranteed +1 rep from organizers;

2. The winner and runner-up (1st and 2nd place) will be awarded a game key from the official list of game rewards:
https://www.gunetwork.org/t10765-official-screenshot-contests-games-rewards

1. Also, if the 1st place winner is not already a colonial, he will be instantly promoted!
(*members who have been demoted due to certain more or less recent grave infractions will not qualify for this reward)

May the most macabre mind win the contest and to all of
you good luck.

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Commander Wolffe

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PostSubject: Re: Tales from the Crypt Fan Fiction Contest   Fri Oct 19, 2018 10:36 am

In 1948 the ship SS Pearl sailed off to pick up a special shipment.
Arriving near Indonesia the ship picked up a distress call from a Dutch freighter, the SS Ourang Medan.
The chilling message was “All officers, including the captain are lying dead in chartroom and bridge. Possibly whole crew dead.” The message was followed by an indescribable Morse code and one final message “I die..”
Captain Eugene Krabbe decided to have the SS Pearl head to the freighter to investigate and if needed give assistance to the ship in distress.
A few hours later they arrived at the freighter and the captain chose a handful of his crew to be the boarding party.
What they saw on board was the most frightening sight any of them had behold.
All of the crew and officers where dead, their eyes open, faces looking towards the sun, arms outstretched as if they were trying to fight something off and a look of absolute terror on their faces. Even the ships dog was dead, found snarling at an unseen enemy.
As they were nearing the bodies in the boiler room, the boarding crew felt a terrible chill, even though the temperature was near 110 F.

The captain joined the boarding crew and decided they tow the ship to the nearest port, but before they could get underway, smoke came rolling from under the hull.
Sheldon Lankton the Pearl’s chief mechanic ordered everyone off the ship.
Barely had the boarding crew left the freighter and cut towlines or the Ourang Medan exploded.
The freighter went up in flames and sunk to the ocean with the mysterious dead crew.
The Pearl managed to get some distance from the freighter but the explosion send it off course.
Due to the explosion the pearl’s engines were damaged and to make things worse for the captain a heavy fog came rolling in making navigating extremely hard.

Captain Eugene broadcasted the faith of the SS Ourang Medan to any nearby ships, but no response came in return.
Sheldon told him it would take a day to get the engines all properly fixed.
They were close to Indonesia or so they thought, thus they hoped for the best.
At night the first mate Quill Warde would play his instrument, to the dismay of his fellow crewmen, the noise was loud and foul.
So when it was replaced with a scream it didn’t get noticed.
As night passed on the chef Bob Sharpe had a habit of checking in on the first mate, even though Quill highly disliked the man.

As Bob didn’t find the first mate in his cabin he went to look near the stern where he knew Quill would occupy himself playing his instrument.
Only he didn’t find the first mate, just the instrument lying on the floor.
Convinced something happened to Quill, Bob picked up the instrument and reported it to the captain. The captain brushed it off, saying that Quill probably lost it and was hiding somewhere else.
Bob headed back to the first mate’s quarters, where Quill still didn’t seem to be so bob returned with the instrument back to his own quarter.

It was not until Rick Starr the deckhand went to check upon his closest friend for forgetting breakfast that he found Bob dead in his cabin holding onto the instrument.
It was then apparent to the captain something was seriously wrong, as Quill still wasn’t seen anywhere and now Bob was found dead.
Doctor Sanders checked upon the body and saw the horror struck on Bob’s face.
He briefed the captain upon his discovery and Captain Eugene was reminded off what they found on the freighter.
He instantly went to the radio room where he attempted to send a distress call, yet only static was heard over the radio.
He called for Sheldon to look at the radio but only heard a loud scream coming from the boiler room.
He sends Rick to get the doctor and rushed himself to the boiler room.
A terrible chill was felt as he got closer and inside among the rest of his team, Sheldon laid dead with the same expression.
On his way back to the bridge, he nearly collided with doctor Sanders.
The doctor explained that he heard another terrible scream and that he didn’t encounter Rick anywhere.
In a matter of hours nearly all of his crew was dead and a couple were missing.

Whatever was killing his crew was most likely still around, so the captain decided that he and the doctor needed to leave the ship, as it was likely their only chance of survival.
Both of them headed to the back of the ship where the life boats are.
Half way through thick black smoke came crawling from the hull.
Captain Eugene started to run faster, when he heard a scream coming from right behind him.
Looking over his shoulder he couldn’t see the doctor anymore, so he kept on running.

Making it to the life boat the captain climbed in and dropped it to sea.
It was then he saw the lifeless body of his first mate Quill.
He decided to push the body from the boat, scared to be near it.
As he floated from his ship, the SS Pearl he looked back towards it seeing it exploded and be engulfed by the waves.
Though not taking any risks he started row, to get away from the wreckage.
After a while he finally thought he was safe, though saddened by the loss of his ship and his crew.
It was then that he noticed a shadow moving in the thick fog, drawing closer to him.

Finally, the monster emerged from the fog, though it appeared to be enormous in size, it was able to kill the SS Pearl’s crew members even in its confined spaces.
The monster stretched out his arm reaching out to Captain Eugene, he had never seen such a horrible creature before. The only thing he managed to do was let out a loud scream, as fending off the monster was impossible and there was nobody who’d be able to see save him.
Months later at the beach at Sri Lanka the life boat washes on the shore, empty and abandoned.
Nobody knows what happened to its owner, the SS Pearl or the ship it encountered The SS Ourang Medan.
It was merely brushed of my most of the authorities both ships got lost when accidently sailing into a Nazi mine field.


(Disclaimer: Half of the story is based on a real mystery surrounding the ghost ship The SS Ourang Medan, all names are fictiional and any similarities are coincidental)

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Blonde

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PostSubject: Re: Tales from the Crypt Fan Fiction Contest   Mon Oct 22, 2018 1:31 am

Living through Death, a short story about life as a ghost.

They say only the good die young. Is that why I'm still living? I was never perfect, but I feel as if I shouldn't have survived, I should've died when that car hit mine. Now my life is just pain and regret, I'm just a ghost, but instead of me doing the haunting, I'm the one being haunted, or maybe it's just me haunting myself and the pain is just fear. Look into my eyes and you'll find there's no soul, no spirit, because my soul has already died, flew into the afterlife and I'm just the shell you can see. A cursed poltergeist walking on earth, a spirit without a spirit, a shell of a wicked man. Everyday, I pray for the dead. I'll probably die in my own pain, shaking in agony.

The deafening screams of the people watching the impact, she was crushed in thr impact, and so was I, crushed. Paramedics rushed to my aid, but they couldn't fix me, I was as damaged as the cars were. Everyday I pray for her. I'll probably die in my own pain, shaking in agony.

I was always brought up to care about others, and while I never followed that mantra completely, I never tried to hurt others. I killed them, the driver in the other car and my beautiful fiance in the passenger seat. I could've decided not to drive, I could've not drank that night. In another reality I surely saved them, and myself from fate, my destruction, my death. Everyday I pray for myself. I'll probably die in my own sorrow, nobody will remember me.

Not only did two cars collide, my life and my death collided too, and while life achieved victory in that I'm still living, death scored points in that there's no point to. I tried to swerve but it all meant nothing, in another world I could've prevented the collision with sharper instinct, yet the only parts of the scene that were sharp was the glass shards that scattered when the contact was made. Everyday I pray for the families. I'll probably die in my own sorrow, nobody will remember me.

Every night in my sleep, I see the event playing out again before my very eyes, like a theatre show, where I'm the talentless playright with no control. I have no power over the outcome, no cards left to play, my life fading away before my very eyes and then I wake up and it's all over, but the same scene repeats itself in my mind again and again. It's like my very existence was dependent on this moment, it was just a cruel twist of fate that I survived while she didn't, and the driver of the other vehicle didn't too.  What if there were children in the other car? How would I pull myself together? I'm like a jigsaw missing half it's pieces, an incomplete picture. Everyday I pray for the other driver. I'll probably die in regret, drowning in the past.

How will I go on? I've got nothing to live for. I exist with no purpose, I was meant to have died with my pride. I walk the Earth, but I'm not a man, I'm a ghost left to ponder if the past could have turned out different, if I could have been the saviour instead of the survivor and the dead wouldn't be martyrs dying for me to regret my alcoholism. Drinking was something I would do to drown away my sorrow, not to add to it. Maybe when combined with driving, that's what did it? Sometimes the tears coming out of my eyes hate me too, and drop to the floor trying to escape from me. I would never blame them, they could've been harmed too and now they're working overtime for their boss, regret, to fall out my eyes and runaway, not to be harmed by any more of my foolish mistakes. Everyday I pray, to help me move forward. I'll probably die in regret, drowning in the past.

They say that ghosts exist wandering Earth after death yet I never died, but I'm still one of them, being stuck in a cycle of wandering trying to find a purpose on Earth. I should've died, not anyone else. My eternal damnation is now upon me to live in fear and shock, haunting myself for the rest of my life. Am I still living? Is this all a dream? Maybe this is just purgatory and I'm waiting for a judgement, to find out whether I'm just a sinful revenant or dead entirely, living out my own personal hell in my mind. Everyday I pray for death. I'll probably die in fear, forever running from the impact of my own actions.

Maybe I could've saved them. I cannot turn back time to those last moments, the flashing lights, empty roads and concrete roads but I could've done something before. Why do I have to suffer? Pain in my heart grows greater every day. I'll probably die in fear, forever running from the impact of my own actions.

The question is, when did I really die?

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Wertologist

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PostSubject: Re: Tales from the Crypt Fan Fiction Contest   Tue Oct 30, 2018 9:33 pm

This isn't exactly a short story, but I figure I'd throw it in anyways. I'm working on my own book and this is the prologue I wrote. It's short, but not meant to be "over" at the "end". I haven't really gone through and cleaned it up yet so it may be a bit rough around the edges.
Spoiler:
 
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PostSubject: Re: Tales from the Crypt Fan Fiction Contest   Tue Nov 20, 2018 5:39 pm

Hello again ladies and gentlemen, it has been awhile since the contest has ended and the judges have deliberated a long time.
Finally the votes are in and the results are finally here.


First place goes to @Wertologist
Second place goes to @Commander Wolffe
Lastly but not least the third place goes to @Blonde


All 3 contestants will be rewarded for their effort to make great stories.

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