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🖤 ShadowSphere Community Story
What happens when a horror story has no single author?
Let's find out.
I'll begin with the opening scene, and from there the story is yours.
Each writer can add up to 500 words, continuing directly from where the previous writer left off. Whether you introduce a new twist, deepen the mystery or leave the next writer with an impossible choice is entirely up to you.
When you've finished your contribution, tag another ShadowSphere member you'd like to see continue the story. They can accept the challenge or pass it on by tagging someone else.
Let's see just how strange this story can become when it's shaped by many different minds.
The Rules
Each contribution must be 500 words or fewer.
Continue directly from the previous contribution.
Build on what has already been written. Don't rewrite or contradict earlier events.
Leave the story open for the next writer.
Tag one ShadowSphere member to continue the story.
Only the tagged member should write the next contribution.
If you're tagged but can't take part, simply tag another member instead.
Have fun, surprise each other, and see where the story takes you.
No one knows how it will end.
That's part of the fun. 🖤
Charity wasn’t naive enough to think that she’d been the only one to think about exploring the mysterious island, but she was cynical enough to think it unusual that there would be others exploring at the same time. Only now did it occur to her that camping knives may not be enough should they run into trouble. Her thoughts were interrupted by a shout from Arlie.
With fumbling steps Charity pushed through the undergrowth to where Arlie waited. They had been further apart than she realised.
“Arlie, we need to stay together, don’t wander off.”
He gave her a look, “I didn’t, Chaz. It was you, you went blank for a moment, staring into the trees. You should have been looking here, see this section of wall?”
She was about to ball him out for calling her ‘Chaz’, but then she saw what he had found. With his own knife he had been hacking away trailing creepers that covered what looked like an outbuilding, probably an old storage building for the monastery, Charity assumed.
“These vines are not invasive, they hang from the top.” Arlie indicated with his knife point.
“So?”
Then he poked at another section further along, then she understood.
“Elsewhere they have grown through the mortar, and that is different too.”
For once, Charity was impressed with Arlie, and she have him an appraising look.
“You’re not just a six-pack are you, Arlie?”
“And this ain’t just a hat rack, Chaz.” He raised the cap off his head. “What do you make of this?”
Charity stepped up to the old masonry and peered at it. “So this part of the wall has been repaired, later than the rest of it?”
“Repaired recently too, at least comparatively. The stone is all the same, but this mortar here, on the old bit, is mostly mud and lime, old school. This section here, the newer bit, well, tell me what you think. Have a poke.”
“That’s really different, it’s tougher here, the old stuff is crumbling.”
“That new stuff,” Arlie grinned with his own glee, “that is cement. Modern cement. This was a quick job, and done in a hurry.”
“How modern is modern, Arlie?”
Now, Arlie looked crestfallen. “I couldn’t say, I’m not an expert, but probably sealed by the developers. We should call the others.”
“Absolutely, our first lead!”
Mia’s scream broke the silence. Before either Charity or Arlie could reach for their walkie-talkies, they could hear Mia crashing through the undergrowth. They ran towards the noise, and Mia, covered in scratches threw herself into their arms. Her tears had made streaks in the dirt on her face. Between her sobbing breaths she cried, “It’s Drew! He’s been attacked!”
@JB Wocoski