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Cutteridge Creative Writing Contest Submissions
cynella Offline
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Post: #1
Cutteridge Creative Writing Contest Submissions
To Vote Click on the link below.

http://wp.me/p1OLB0-6GH

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(This post was last modified: 10-15-2012 09:54 AM by cynella.)
10-14-2012 09:35 PM
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cynella Offline
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Posts: 294
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Post: #2
RE: Cutteridge Creative Writing Contest Submissions
Contestant: C.Ri.M.
Region: NA


Robin leaned against the police car and pulled the small gray blanket they had given her tighter around her shoulders. She looked to the ground and her bare feet. Her dress, torn, dangled beside them. It was covered in blood.

An officer approached her and asked her what had happened. At first she didn't respond. Then she looked up and saw the estate casting its shadow over her. The memories of the horrid events flooded and overwhelmed her. The realization that both her boyfriend and best friend were dead came to her like a wave of heat and then calmly passed away. In her mind she rationalized she was dreaming.

“I’m in a dream.” She said. “I can’t seem to wake up.”

“It was a couple of days ago,” she began, “that my best friend, Jolie, was asked on a date. It was her first date in awhile and I thought she’d feel more comfortable if I went with her. So, we decided on doing a double date.

It started out as a typical date. We met up, went to eat dinner, went to a movie and then the guys wanted to get some beer. It was my boyfriend who decided to come here, to Cutteridge Estate.” She spat the name out with contempt. A slight breeze blew tickling the leaves and it seemed the old house moaned in defiance.

“You know, it’s a place teens go to have fun, party…scare each other. Mark, Jolie’s date, didn't want to go at first but Jolie insisted. I guess he thought he’d get lucky.

When we got here it was raining, which seemed strange because it wasn't raining anywhere else. My boyfriend said it’s probably because of it being close to the ocean. We all ran, covering our heads, to the front porch, where we found the front door unlocked. The air was stale, but the rooms were clean and appeared to be up kept for an abandoned house. We walked around the house checking everything out and my boyfriend decided that we should go upstairs to one of the bedrooms and leave the new couple alone. As we headed upstairs, Mark stopped us in a panic.

‘You can’t go upstairs! She lives up there.’ He said grasping the banister. He pointed to a portrait of Lady Elisabeth Cutteridge.



‘Shortly after the Civil War The Colonel and Mrs. Cutteridge had this house built. Before the builders of the house could begin, they had to load the dead Union and Confederate soldiers onto carts and wheel them to a makeshift cemetery where they buried them in unmarked graves.

During the construction there were numerous ill-fated accidents like workers losing arms or legs. One drowned in the swampy lake and two flung themselves off the cliff in the back. Everyone just dismissed the events as drunken or incompetent workers and construction of the house continued.

Eventually the house was built and the Colonel, Elisabeth and their newly born twins, a boy named Elijah and a girl named Emily moved in. For five years they lived happily content and without any misfortunes.

Then, almost suddenly, the Colonel became distant. He began not caring or showing any attention to his children. He started sleeping in his library more. He was almost unapproachable except for a young maid they had recently hired. She took care of his every whim including those that were meant for his wife.

Annabelle, the young maid, grew closer and closer to the Colonel until it became obvious, even to the people in town that something was going on. The hold she had over him seemed magical.

Distraught, Elisabeth dug up information about the maid and found that her fiance was killed by the Colonel during the war and his body was believed to lie in an unmarked grave on her property. After his death it was believed that Annabelle had taken up witchcraft trying to bring back her love with the help of a Necronomicon.

Elisabeth finally got enough nerve to confront the maid who struck out at her violently. They fought across the dining room.

Coming out of a drunken stupor the Colonel yelled at the two to stop and he grabbed Annabelle’s shoulder. She spun around and spit out some different language and a green blast of energy shot from her hands, it hit the Colonel and sent him flying through a window. He landed in the swamp outside.

Elijah, who had been playing with his ball outside heard the commotion and came running in. ‘Mommy?’ he yelled and the witch responded by zapping him with the same green energy. It left nothing but the little yellow ball he was playing with which bounced back outside.

Annabelle looked down at Elizabeth. ‘I will ruin you the way I was ruined.’ She said and turned towards the stairs. She knew Emily was playing in her room upstairs. She had something special planned for her.

She opened the child’s door and walked in as if nothing was wrong. Emily laid on her bed playing with a couple of dolls. ‘Hi, Emily, do you enjoy playing with those dolls?’ She asked and Emily shook her head and smiled totally oblivious. ‘Are those the one’s your father bought you when he was in New York City?’

‘You leave my daughter alone!’ Elizabeth yelled from the doorway. Annabelle spun around and hissed. Elizabeth held up the Necronomicon. ‘Is this your power? Is this how you’re doing all of this? If I destroy it you will stop and everything will be normal again?’ With that she pulled out a butcher’s knife and stabbed it through the center of the book.

A horrible moan echoed and a green ooze bled from it. ‘No!’ Screamed Annabelle as the door to Emily’s room shut and locked. Elizabeth dropped the book and frantically tried to open the door as she could hear Emily’s scream become more faint and distant. The door swelled as if it would blow open from the pressure. It banged and bumped. Then suddenly it stopped and there was a deafening silence.

She tugged on the door again but it was shut tight. Something, someone touched her shoulder. She turned around to see her husband, the Colonel, standing there. His flesh had become like leather and there was straw sticking out here and there as if he had been turned into a scarecrow. Elizabeth fainted from the shock and fell over the railing. Her neck snapped as she landed on the wooden floor below.’



That’s the story he told us.” Robin finished, still looking down at her bare feet.

The police officer smirked. “That’s a good lesson in history, but doesn't explain what happened to your friends, ma’am.”

“We went upstairs. We went into her room.” She said as she finally looked up into his eyes. He stepped back as her eyes glowed a deathly shade of green.
(This post was last modified: 10-15-2012 12:11 AM by cynella.)
10-14-2012 09:36 PM
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cynella Offline
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Post: #3
RE: Cutteridge Creative Writing Contest Submissions
Contestant: AceofSpades213
Region: NA


Everything changed that day young Charles fell into the well. Lady Victoria became an empty shell of a woman, crying whenever the slightest thought of her son crossed her mind. Lord Hector had become angry at life itself; he stomped around the house, nothing able to calm or please him. Jack, the groundskeeper, had told Charles not to play by the well, but the boy wouldn’t listen. He was simply just too excited to have his new red ball, and nothing would stop him from playing with it. Jack now kept to himself in his shack out in the corn field, wracked with a guilt he had never felt before. Of course the Lord and Lady loved their son, but Charles and Jack were each other’s best friends. He should have done more to save him, he thought. He could have even jumped into the well himself to help Charles escape.

None of that mattered now; Charles had died that day in the well. Luckily there was no suffering; the fall had killed him before he had the chance to drown, though nobody else would ever be able to learn of that small solace granted to the young boy.

Eventually the loss of her son wore on Lady Victoria. She swore herself that she was going mad; she swore she could hear his laughter, and even sometimes she swore she saw his little red ball. Once she thought she even saw a ghostly apparition of her son, and that one chance is what drove her to the occult. She scoured the manor library until she found a dusty old book titled, ‘Necronomipedia.’

To her delight she found many spells, but the only life-giving spell required the deceased’s body to be present. So she settled for the next best thing: she’d use a spell to make her husband strong enough to go down into the well to get the body.

After days of convincing him, he finally agreed to accept the spell. That night, Victoria drew a large spell circle and seal in the foyer. Hector stood inside, and Victoria began to chant. As she did, the seal opened up to release some spirits. They entered Hector, causing his muscles to bulge and his figure to warp. He grew fangs, and thick dark hair. Victoria stood, frozen from the horrific image in front of her.

Hector howled as his transformation completed, as his glowing red eyes fell upon Victoria’s slender form. Victoria ran up the stairs to her bedroom without a second thought. The beastly Hector gave chase, following after her like a crazed wolf on the hunt. She slammed her door closed and pressed against it. She could feel the beast pushing against the door, his loud growls and howls drowning out the sound of her own heartbeat. She began to cry against the door; surely this was the end for her.

Suddenly there was a loud clang, and the sounds of a struggle. She heard a man scream and flesh tear… she knew it was Jack and she knew he was hurt. There was one more loud clang, and then there was silence. She meekly opened the door and looked out, seeing her beast of a husband lying unconscious, and Jack bloodied, holding a shovel. He dropped it and looked at her. “We need to move the body,” he said flatly.

With their combined efforts, they were able to move the body into the nearest room. Jack sealed it with chains and padlocks, and shortly after, the beast had woken and tried to escape.

Victoria noticed Jack’s arm was limp and bleeding. As thanks for saving her, she offered him a spell to fix it. He cautiously agreed, and she flipped through the Necronomipedia as Jack sat in the center of the circle.

A spell for a new body seemed perfect! Victoria wasted no time with the enchantment. As she chanted, Jack felt a soft warmth within him. It felt comforting, almost like when he used to sleep in the hay at his farm as a child. Things went black for Jack suddenly as he fell to the ground. Victoria had finished chanting, and looked down at Jack.

His body twitched slightly, before starting to shake and convulse. Victoria screamed and just watched until Jack had stopped moving. First Hector, and now Jack… Victoria began to cry uncontrollably, feeling immense guilt for what she had done. She never meant for things to turn out this way.

Victoria jumped as she saw Jack move. She rushed over to him; he was not the same man she had known for years. His skin was dark and twisted, and his face barely looked human. She could smell hay coming from him, and he looked almost like he was stuffed full of it. Jack opened his eyes, now glowing red and looked at Victoria. Jack silently got up and ran out of the house, into the woods. Victoria stood, shocked. She silently cried, her body heaving with sobs.

As she did, the magic circle on the floor began to glow. Spirits had finally pushed their way through, and were now invading Cutterridge. Victoria noticed too late, and as she tried to run, her spirit was ripped from her body and she was thrown into the grand mirror above the staircase, sealing her spirit within the manor itself. As she realized what she had caused, she began to cry loudly. As she cried, clouds covered Cutterridge and it began to pour rain.

Legend says that if you were to go back to Cutterridge today, you can still hear the sound of Charles laughter. Few people have reported seeing Jack the scarecrow wandering the grounds, eternally looking for the body of Charles he will never find. Some say Lord Hector still remains trapped in the very same room. Others have reported seeing Lady Victoria herself weeping. The manor itself now weeps, hoping one day a visitor will come along to set things right.
10-14-2012 09:37 PM
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cynella Offline
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Post: #4
RE: Cutteridge Creative Writing Contest Submissions
Contestant: Checkershur
Region: NA

The Cutteridge Estate was my home. It was to be the home I would raise my family in. My wonderful wife, Lady Cutteridge and I fell in love with it the moment we saw it. For two newlyweds it was a slice of Heaven on Earth. We lived in bliss for a year before the accident. The garden used to bloom rich with color. The cool morning air would caress the grass gently. Lady Cutteridge and I used to love spending an afternoon by the lighthouse. In fact, that’s where we were when the accident happened. We were enjoying a beautiful day. Not atypical from most other days we spent together.



The sun was shining and the scent or roses drifted from the garden. The day was simply beautiful. This however, would be the day my life would end and my cursed afterlife would begin. As we strolled by the cliffs I noticed something shiny glowing at the edge. I slowly walked over to assess what it was. To my great pleasure it was a gold coin. As I bent down to pick it up my foot slipped on moss. The last thing I remember is falling over the edge of the cliff, screaming as I fell to the rocks below. Then there was nothing.



When I woke up the sun was shining. I was in my garden. Something was different though. Flowers were no longer blooming. My wife’s prized rose bush was withered and dead. Something wasn't right but I couldn't quite place what it was. That was when Lady Cutteridge spoke to me. “Hello darling. It’s good to see you again.” she said. Her voice was shaky and her eyes red. I could tell she had been crying for some time. She came closer and hugged me. I felt nothing, not her embrace, not the rush of my fast beating heart, nothing was normal. She looked at me longingly. With tear streaked eyes she held a mirror up. I stared intently at the man, the creature looking back at me. My mind raced as I inquired about what had happened to me. She told me the story of my fall off the cliff. How I had met my death and left this world, left her. She then told me of the dark magic she had used to bring me back. Forever cursed to be a scarecrow.



I shook my head in disbelief. Her love for me was so strong, and the grief so great, that she had made a deal with a demon. I was brought back to her. She traded her freedom for my life. After all, her soul would be forever bound to the house. She would be forced to haunt it for all eternity, and forced to host other spirits as well. This writing is from Lady Cutteridge’s own hand, dictated to her by me, her loving husband.



Lady Cutteridge spent every day here in the garden with me. Days turned to months, months to years, and years to decades. I watched as the love of my life slowly withered away to nothing. Aging much faster than any human possibly could. I watched the house decay at a similar rate. It became nothing more than a spooky old manor in the cliffs. All the beauty of our Heaven on Earth slipped into darkness.

As Lady Cutteridge grew older her visits shortened. One morning she didn't come. I knew then that she had finally been released from her Earthly vessel. Part of me hoped she’d found peace in the afterlife. That part was hopelessly wrong. Something I had known but feared became a reality. Lady Cutteridge had been cursed to roam the house and grounds for eternity, scaring away any humans that might try to take up residence. However, there was a hidden clause to her infernal contract. She could not see the one she brought back from the dead. Only one day a year in fact was she allowed time with me.

That day would be October 31st for all eternity. As a result of this chain placed on her, she wanders the grounds in misery, constantly in tears, waiting to speak to her husband. When the wind blows just right I can hear her cries of agony. You can find on her on the bench. Very near where I perished, staring into nothingness as she sobs. An eternity of sadness bound to her and me as well. That is the story of Cutteridge Estate.

You are brave to enter this house. By reading this you have condemned yourself to be haunted long after you leave this place. This is not a home for any mortal souls. This is a residence for lost tormented souls. If you choose to return to this place, please tell Lady Cutteridge I love her. I will be waiting, what seems an eternity, to see the love of my life, and death, once more.



Signed,

Lord Cutteridge
10-14-2012 09:37 PM
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cynella Offline
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Post: #5
RE: Cutteridge Creative Writing Contest Submissions
Contestant: kitt-fox
Region: NA

CUTTERIDGE ESTATE

THE MIST OF THIS LAND, ARE BUT SORROWS YOU WILL BREATHE.
AND THEY BLOW AND THEY TWIST, THRU THE DAYS AND THE EVES.
PREPARE TO BE HAUNTED, WITH YOUR FIRST FOOT A GROUND.
THERE IS CHAOS AND MAYHEM AND EVIL AROUND.

THEY ARE LYING BENEATH YOU, ABOVE AND BESIDE.
IN DESPERATE SEARCH OF THE SOUL, YOU SO PRECIOUSLY HIDE.
THE SPIRITS PROTECTING, THESE GROUNDS YOU SEE.
WERE ONCE OF THIS EARTH, JUST AS YOU AND ME.

THERE’S A LIGHTHOUSE THAT SHINES, ACROSS THE WATER SO BRIGHT.
IN HOPES TO GUIDE NEW LIFE, THRU THE DARK OF THE NIGHT.
THE PRICE THAT IS PAID, PROVES TOO MUCH FOR ONE TO BARE.
SO ALL WHO DO VISIT, ARE ENCOURAGED TO SHARE.

THERE’S A POND FULL OF MISERY, WORRY AND PAIN.
IT IS SAID IF LOOKED INTO, WILL TAKE U INSANE.
IT IS BLACK IN ITS COLOR, AND ALLURING TO THE EYE.
PIERCING STRAIGHT THROUGH THE SOUL, YOU WILL COMPLY.

A WELL FULL OF TEARS, IS THE WATER YOU WILL DRINK.
THEN DEEP IN THE GROUND, YOUR MIND IS SURE TO SINK.
ITS TAINTED WITH SORROWS AND RAGE FROM THE PAST.
YOUR REALITY WILL NOT SEE, YOUR MIND WILL NOT LAST.

ASK THE OLD SCARECROW, AND YOU WILL SPEAK NO MORE.
AS MANY HAVE DONE, IN THEIR TRAVELS BEFORE.
QUIET AND STEALTHY, HE MOVES FRANTICLY ABOUT.
WITH EVERY NEW BODY, FROM FERTILE GROUND MORE WILL SPROUT.

FOR ALL WHO HAVE COME HERE, HAVE SUFFERED YOUR WALK.
THE MEALS THEY’RE APLENTY, STRAIGHT FROM THE STALK.
LIKE DYING ROOTS UNDER FOOT WITH EACH STEP THAT U TAKE.
USE CAUTION MY FRIEND IN EACH MOVE THAT YOU MAKE.

YOU WILL SCURRY WITH FEAR, IN PANIC CONFUSED.
YOUR MIND IS NOT YOURS, FOR YOUR THOUGHTS THEY’LL ABUSE.
WALK SLOWLY MY FRIEND, STAY ALERT BE AWARE.
IF THRU THESE DOORS YOU HAVE CHOSEN, TO VENTURE YOUR DARE.


THAT MYSTERIOUS BALL THAT ROAMS FREELY UNDER FOOT
TAKE NOTHING FOR GRANTED, JUST SIMPLY PUT.
SOMETHING IS LURKING, WITH EVIL INTENT!
OR COULD IT BE YOUR OWN MIND, CAUSING SENSELESS TORMENT?

IS THERE A LOCKED ROOM, FULL OF HORROR, PAIN AND DISGUST?
SEARCH FOR THE ANSWERS, IF YOU FEEL THAT YOU MUST.
BUT KNOW THAT THE ENDING, IS GRUESOME NOT KIND.
FOR EVIL IS THAT, BE PREPARED FOR YOUR FIND.


AND THE WEEPING LADY THAT WONDERS SO SAD PLACE TO PLACE?
HAS ONLY TORMENT AND TORTURES, TO TELL OF THIS SPACE.
EVERY ROOM HOLDS A SECRET, A TERROR, AND A FRIGHT.
ON THIS LAND EVERY DAY IS, YOUR VERY LAST NIGHT.

FOR ALL OF THE WATER COVERING THE GROUNDS HERE U SEE.
ARE BUT TEARS FROM THE EYES OF MANY, FOR ALL ETERNITY.

WELCOME TO CUTTERIDGE ESTATES.
10-14-2012 09:38 PM
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cynella Offline
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Post: #6
RE: Cutteridge Creative Writing Contest Submissions
Contestant: Hellmutt
Region: NA


Dan was having second thoughts about the estate he had rented from the property’s caretaker for the weekend. In daylight, it had seemed a charming seaside Victorian – perfect for a romantic weekend getaway with his wife, Carla. However, as darkness fell like a shroud, the Cutteridge estate took on an ominous quality that matched the sinister scar that had disfigured the caretaker’s face. Unfortunately, the relentless rainfall had turned the driveway into a quagmire; their car was now firmly stuck in the mud. With some trepidation, they turned to the forbidding mansion and slowly mounted the stairs. For better or worse, Dan and Carla were trapped until morning.

They had just settled on the balcony under a warm blanket to watch the rainstorm when a brilliant flash of lightning struck nearby. Simultaneously, the power to the house went completely dead. “Great,” said Dan, wondering if this night could get any worse. Carla grabbed a pack of matches and made the rounds, lighting the candles in each room. She screamed aloud when something scurried through the downstairs sitting room, then uttered a nervous laugh when she realized it was simply a mouse ducking into his hole to avoid detection. Nevertheless, Carla raced around to the remaining candles, and with each candle she lit, she felt inexplicably more harried, as though someone or something was closing in on her. By the time the last candle was burning, she was gasping unevenly and sweat stood on her brow. She called to her husband and felt relieved when Dan joined her in the back room.

They embraced as they looked out over the sea. Dan was surprised to see that the lighthouse was dark. “Don’t lighthouses run on generators when the power is out?” asked Dan. Before Carla had the opportunity to answer, a youthful shriek pierced the night. The two lovers exchanged stricken glances. Without consideration for the consequences, they sprinted toward the front door and the darkness beyond. As they threw the door open, another bolt of lightning struck, briefly illuminating the upstairs mirror from behind. With their attention focused outside, neither Dan nor Carla noticed the malevolent figure with the wicked scar standing behind the mirror, watching them intently with dark, malicious eyes.

They stepped outside and were immediately drenched by the pouring rain. They circled the house to the left, straining their eyes through the darkness trying to find some evidence of a child in distress. Carla reflexively grabbed Dan’s hand, and wondered aloud whether they should return inside and wait this one out. Realizing they could not live with themselves if they abandoned a child in need, they pressed on. As they circled the house, their eyes slowly began to adjust to the gloomy night. Vague shapes began to coalesce into everyday objects: a pier jutting into the moor, a bench overlooking the sea. They searched in vain for a sign of the youth in distress.

With the sea at their backs, they rounded the third corner of the house and headed towards the front. Their step quickened – both Dan and Carla sensed that their search might be futile, and they both seemed eager to retreat indoors. Seconds away from relative safety, another lightning strike sealed their fates.

As the jagged bolt sliced the sky, a scarecrow leapt into view. Startled by the skeletal figure, Dan instinctively leapt away. He tripped on a branch and stumbled further backward. His arms pinwheeled and Carla lost her grip on his rain slicked hand. Tumbling out of control, Dan’s calf struck the low stone wall of the well, and he tipped over backwards. Carla’s screams echoed his own as he plummeted to the bottom. Dan landed with a wet, sickening crunch; his body went numb as his spine snapped.

Carla frantically rushed over to the well and leaned out precariously. She could hear his feeble groans rising from the darkness. Oblivious to his injury, she called out to him “I’ll get you out, honey! Don’t worry!” She quickly retrieved a rope and flashlight from the emergency kit they kept in the trunk of the car. It wasn’t until she clicked on the flashlight and trained it on Dan at the bottom of the well that the extent of his injuries became clear. He lay in a crumpled heap, his body twisted crookedly.

As Carla watched for signs of life, he called out weakly for help. Horrified, Carla realized that the water level in the well was rising. She tied off the rope on a nearby tree and dropped it into the well. With no capability to hold the rope, or even to raise his head above water, Dan pleaded with his eyes for Carla to save him. She swung her legs over the edge, seized the rope, and carefully began to rappel down the inside of the well. She climbed as quickly as possible, being careful not to slip on the wet rope as she descended. It took a few agonizing minutes to reach the bottom. She finally touched down and turned to her husband, but the flashlight revealed his lifeless eyes trapped beneath several inches of water.

With a broken cry she raised his head and tried to revive him, but to no avail. He was gone. Sobbing, she tied the rope under his arms, climbed back up, and hauled his broken body out of the well. Her spirit cracked as she cradled him in her arms. Broken hearted, she gently laid his body to rest in the falling rain. She slowly stood and turned her face to the sky. With a final grief stricken whimper, Carla staggered toward the cliff and hurled herself onto the rocks below.

One final lightning strike brightened the sky. For a brief instant a scarred, wickedly smiling face was illuminated in the upstairs window. The power flickered back to life, but the Cutteridge estate stood empty once more – just as the caretaker preferred it.
10-14-2012 09:38 PM
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cynella Offline
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Post: #7
RE: Cutteridge Creative Writing Contest Submissions
Contestant: TSUNADE1224
Region: NA


The Cutteridge Story by TSUNADE1224

The story of this place is a strange one indeed,
And to some of the people it’s hard to believe.
This maiden fell in love in fairy tale fashion,
Got married and had 3 kids out of passion.
But her husband fell ill and died soon after,
Leaving the poor maiden in such a disaster.
With children for her to raise on her own,
Without any money she started to roam.

Several years have past and this maiden once more,
Took notice of this handsome fellow Galore.
Galore was gorgeous, mysterious and rich,
but he didn’t like children, so the maid had to ditch.
So into the well her children she threw
to hide her little secrets “This maid was a shrew”!

She then married Galore and was happy once more,
He showered her with gifts and but she still longed for more,
The void of her children in the well still remained,
Haunting her for years driving her past insane.
She tried and tried, but her heart filled with sorrow,
Her own children's lives! This maiden had borrowed.

She would sit on bench, and cry day after day,
She could hear the children’s voices causing her such dismay.
Galore grew suspicious and questioned her plight,
He kept asking and asking which caused them to fight.
Then he threatened to leave her forever that night,
So the maiden took the kitchen knife and stabbed him “that’s right”!

Then she stuffed him with hay and placed him in the field,
To frighten the crows, his fate she did seal.
There's truth to this story, you needn't be scared,
In telling this tale your life will be spared.
The Lady that sits on the bench and still cries,
The scarecrow in the field and her children’s sighs.
Forever to be haunted is Cutteridge Estate,
And if you don’t believe me, you've sealed your own fate.

Bwahahahaha Happy Halloween !!!
10-14-2012 09:39 PM
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cynella Offline
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Post: #8
RE: Cutteridge Creative Writing Contest Submissions
Contestant: UberWonderChuwy
Region: NA


The Cutterridge Manor in its’ glory was a place of sheer wonder. However; to the outsider as glamorous and wondrous as it was. Something foul tainted the land far long before the foundation of the house was mapped out. Many had tried to build on the land, only to get the well and the outer perimeter fence up, than abandon the project due to some tragedy would be-fall the family. The land was home to unsightly creatures of the netherworld, land in which the worlds blended. During the construction minor things began to occur. Tools went missing, shadows began to dance in unusual rhythms, and the weather became as unruly as a child. Silence, returned to the site once the last nail had been set in to its’ place.

A young couple moved in, still fresh from wedding bliss. The Manor would be a testament to the wealth and power Lord Erza could provide for his wife Lorelei and young son, Peter. With the paint still wet on the walls they moved in. Cutterridge so became a warm place in which parties were thrown on a regular basis. After the church faring people left the parties, the finest imported liquor would soon make the rounds. It is on these parties Lorelei and Erza would through caution to the wind and become immersed, loosing themselves in the crowd. Young Peter, ever the curious one would slip away from his bed, creep down the halls, and out the front door. The music and raucous noise silenced his movement.

He would go to well. What his parents did not know is that he had made a friend in that well and in turn the well revealed itself. There was someone at the bottom of the well, and they were playing, having fun without him. Time and time again they would invite him to play and all he had to do was life the lid and look down into the well. Tonight was the night he would join them. Walking the misty path to the well he grabbed the lid and lifted with all his might. It moved little by little, until he removed it completely setting it on the ground. A voice rose up from the well, welcoming him, encouraging him with fervor to just look over the edge and peer inside. Grasping the edge, Peter shook with excitement, eyes open as wide as possible; he leaned of the side of the ledge.

It is in this moment, the being launched an appendage at Peters’ neck snapping it in two. Pulling the cadaver down the well, to enjoying its’ prize. Letting out a scream similar to that of a child’s it alerting all to the scene that had unfolded just moments before. Erza and other young gentlemen, inebriated tore out the front door, emboldened by the liquor coursing through their veins sought to find the source of the scream. Lorelei, followed in pursuit. Soon, the group of men came upon the well. Seeing it open, sluggish minds began to process the information. Erza, started shaking his head, chanting “no” like a pray. Upon arriving, Lorelei saw the well, it did not but a few moments for her to realize that her child was down that well and no longer of this world. Stricken by this information, she unleashed the fury and anguish only a mother could know up to the heavens above.

Weeks went by, so too did the funeral for Young Peter. With no way to properly recover the body his soul would be damned to hell for all eternity. Lorelei was inconsolable, choosing to spend her days crying on the window seat or on the bench over-looking the ocean. She adopted the widow colors, traditional of mourning, red stained eyes and veiled faced. Erza tried for many weeks to get her to move on, even going so far to institutionalize her. Four months after Peters’ death, body-less voice started to communication with Lorelei. Every hour, every night, she would be tortured with remembrance of Peters’ laugh, his smell, and his screams of fear. Until, she could take no more. After Erza fell asleep one night she slipped away in her finest wear. Veiled face she stalked towards the edge of the cliff. Reaching the edge of the cliff, never stopping, continuing onward to the sea below.

Lorelei’s body was never recovered, lost to the sea below. Erza was beside himself, choosing to spend his days in a liquor induced haze. Everywhere in the house were images of Lorelei and Peter. The shadows began to take on their shape. It is in this lowest point his friends decided other worldly intervention would be necessary for him to regain his life. For that they would turn to the Occult. Rumor has it that if one were to set-up grotesque statues, mock images of a long forgotten pagan god in the main rooms of the house and Red Charon Candles lit in all the rooms of the house one could open the portal. On the night of the waning moon, the Erza and friends had setup the house according to the ritual and waited in the room next to the master bedroom. Slowly, no trusting their eyes, the images of Lorelei and Peter came into view. Tears raced from Erzas’ eyes. He reached out towards them and as he was about to grasp them. Green mist filled the room, chains appeared on the door. Lorelei and Peter disappeared from sight.

The men collapsed and out of the portal the pagan god hovered above the men. Long last, it had found an anchor to this world. Stretching its’ limbs it let out a howl, it echoed from the house encouraging the beast from the well to emerge. As, reward for helping him Lorelei and Peter were condemned to relive the last moments of life forever.
10-14-2012 09:39 PM
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cynella Offline
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Post: #9
RE: Cutteridge Creative Writing Contest Submissions
Contestant: Wirp
Region: NA


The Cutteridge Chronicles


Welcome, welcome to this mysterious abode,
where souls have suffered, and blood has flowed.

Things often happen here that cannot be explained,
and believe me when I warn you, my terror isn't feigned.

Shrieks, creaks, and bumps in the night have all become the norm,
while outside rages the most treacherous of storms.

"What could those sounds be?" I'm sure you must wonder.
I can guarantee you, it's more than just thunder.


Allow me to to tell you the tale,
of a heartbroken woman, a boy with a ball, and a soldier that failed.

Reading this story will get you prepared,
and perhaps allow you to join the few that were spared.



The Weeping Widow

There once was a woman named Maggie, full of hopes, ambitions and dreams.
She never imagined that one day, those who saw her would scream.

Perhaps you have heard her mournful cries,
or witnessed the dark silhouette with your very own eyes.

She wasn't always this way, I'm sure you can sense.
It's simply the result of some tragic events.


She first came to this manor with her new husband Jay,
hoping this is where they would spend the rest of their days.

Jay once entered the parlor for an afternoon drink,
only to trip on a book, and end up extinct.


It took some time, but Maggie moved on,
and found a new partner, whose name was John.

John trekked into the swamp seeking a runaway hen,
and sure enough, he was never heard from again.


A man by the name of Tom married Maggie a short time later,
hoping to make her life a whole lot greater.

While one day upstairs, cleaning his weapons,
a rifle went off, and sent Tom to heaven.


Desperate to never again be alone,
the widow dragged down the isle a man named Ramón.

Ramón discovered the curse this house possessed,
and needed to escape, before he was also put to rest.

He took a small boat, and lowered it down into the sea.
A lighthouse was in the distance - there he'd be free.

Maggie soon spotted the poor fleeing groom,
and dove off the cliff after him, but fell to her doom.


Now, her spirit sobs at those spots,
where each of her husbands were woefully lost.

She can't be consoled, so don't even attempt.
For the souls of the living, she has only contempt.



The Chuckling Child

Long before Maggie came upon this sorrowful place,
it was often the host to a boy's smiling face.

The lad's name was Billy, and he would sneak in to play.
He enjoyed the ocean, the trees, and the piles of hay.

Always with him was his favorite red ball.
He had many toys, but this was the best of them all.

He'd bounce it and kick it and roll it all over.
From the fields of corn, to the patches of clovers.

Billy loved that ball, he did indeed.
Little did he know, his life it'd impede.


One night, the moon hid away and the sky turned truly dark,
but on a quest to chase that ball, Billy did embark.

Every which way it twisted and turned he would be trailing after.
Most would be cautious in moments like this, but he produced only laughter.

The enchanted sphere finally came to a stop,
at an old well, where it decided to drop.

Billy followed suit, and fell to the bottom.
He tried his best to swim, but no one had taught him.


You'd think such a fate would cause the shedding of tears,
but approach his watery tomb, and it's still giggling that you'll hear.



The Vanquished Veteran

Venture near the cornstalks, and a scarecrow you will spot.
It may be there one moment, and the next it may not.


Let me take you back to a time, where states fought one another.
Where patriot fought patriot, and brother fought brother.

The great Civil War, it was later proclaimed.
With the blood of brave soldiers, this ground is still stained.

Among those that had fallen, was Corporal Samuel S. Baker,
who was always known as quite the risk taker.


Samuel had heard a wounded man calling out from a dwelling.
He ran toward it to help, despite the artillery shelling.

Upon arriving, he saw the soldier was still clinging to life,
but held to his throat, was an enemy knife.

With one lethal motion, Sam's comrade dropped to the floor.
The hostile lunged forward, ready for more.

The Corporal fought back, trying to survive the event,
but into his chest, a final bullet was sent.


Years passed, and Samuel's body still laid there rotted and deformed,
until a farmer came by and made use of his uniform.


The scarecrow may look like it's lifelessly posing,
but they say Sam's spirit still lives through his clothing.



A Never-ending Nightmare

And so we close this fable of fright,
as you try to survive an additional night.

There are plenty more horrors here, you'll find to be true.
It won't be long before this book includes you.
(This post was last modified: 10-14-2012 09:41 PM by cynella.)
10-14-2012 09:40 PM
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cynella Offline
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Posts: 294
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Post: #10
RE: Cutteridge Creative Writing Contest Submissions
Contestant: VampyNight
Region: NA


Cutteridge Story By VampyNight

There once was a cute couple that lived by the bay, where you could see a lighthouse that lit up the way. A pond that was beautiful and a corn field of gold. The couple loved the place and kept it well. Or that's how the story was told...

The husband was away alot, the wife was a nut. She took into reading and knitting like a good wife should. Though she came across some books that weren't of this world. Black Magic it reads but she thought it was a joke. Till she read on and found it wasn't a hoax. Being the nut that she was hosted a party while her husband was away.

Trying a potion or two, just to see if it worked. Then one by one her party goes berserk. "Oh My", she said as she saw what was happening. People began to end up dead.

Out to those golden fields, were now rust with the blood that she spilled. The scarecrow did seem to see her through but she left him up and poured the rest of her potions in his little field. He seemed to jump out of the corner of her eye. But she thought twice about his movement thinking she was just paranoid.

Once her husband came home all did seem to fair. Though for some reason there was a perfume everywhere. The wife kept thinking what could it be. Till one day they went out to see the sea. The perfume smell was stronger today, then she noticed on his collar a stain. She did not ask she acted like she didn't see. Then that night somehow he fell into the sea.

She cried and wailed on the top of her lungs. The rain came and poured down on her widow head, for as crazy as she was she felt she thought was right. To do away with the man that wronged her.

Once the rain had stopped and a little girl came by, this little one stopped by every year to see the old lady. She came up the stairs like she usually would and called out to the old woman. "Up here," cried the old woman from inside a spare room. Up the girl went into the room to see the lab the old woman had placed there.

"What is all this?" the young girl asked. "Why it's the thing to a nice summer's break!", the old woman did smile at her. They took to experimenting on things both big to small, even a hamster in it's ball. Turned it dead, and made the ball glow. Now it roams in and out of the halls, down to the grounds outside below.

Then one day it seemed the little girl fell right off the second floor onto the first floor breaking her neck. Once more the old woman tried to go into her books, she found a way to try to bring the little one back. But what she brought back she did not know, for it haunted her up and down the house. She had killed off her neighbors and killed off her husband. This time she could not take it so she did what she thought was best.

The old woman left and went to the well the closet place to her husband's dwelling and looked at her fields to see the smiling face of the scarecrow. But he was moved from the spot he was placed and his face was a horrid tilt to it. It seemed he smiled as if he knew what she had done. So without thinking and without a glance the old woman threw herself right into the well.

She hit and fell into the bone dry well, at the very bottom she looked back up. Seeing the faces of those she had wronged and then it went black. A cackled rose, and the gate was open from the fields the ghosts had all rose. From big to small, they floated and soared around the estate claiming what is now theirs. With the old woman who returned only to be a ghost haunted by her own memories.
10-14-2012 09:41 PM
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