Digimon Fan Fiction / Gundam Wing Fan Fiction / Sailor Moon Fan Fiction / Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction / Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ The Second Annual Mediaminer.org Big Fanfiction Contest/Award Ceremony/Oscars/Emmies/Golden Globes Thingie! ❯ Horror ( Chapter 7 )

Special thanks to all participants

Special thanks to all judges

Special thanks to Microsoft for sponsoring this event

Special thanks to NBC for letting us have their auditorium

Special thanks to all the fans of Doctor Who

No thanks to the creators of G-Gundam. I mean COME ON!

Special thanks to the people over at Homestarrunner.com. Awesome site...

**

A little fat nine year-old stood up on the books earlier prepared for Strongbad and spoke into the podium. He had a red winter coat with a blue winter hat.

"Okay, all you scrawny weaklings! You will shut up and respect my authoritah! I am Cartman from South Park, and I have come to-"

Before Cartman could continue, Mr. T quickly got on stage and through him through the roof just like he had done to Zim earlier.

"Screw you guuuuuuuuuuys!" Cartman shouted as he disappeared into the distance.

Psy shrugged and took the podium. "All right, folks! Here we are with Horror, the scariest of the scary! So, take your positions at the edges of your seat and prepare to be disgusted! The first award is in honor of the movie that came out last August: Freddy vs. Jason! The idea of evil fighting evil is always a nice one, and they pulled it off great in that one. And so, the winner of the Freddy vs. Jason Award is..."

Psy opened the envelope. "`Dead End Walt,' by Elf No Shin!"

EXCERPT:

Brothers. Well, that explains a lot. I wonder who bit them though and if they're still here, Forest thought as she stood before the McLaughlin ranch. She was hidden from them by the trees, with the three quarters' moon shining down on her. She crept closer, trying to form a plan of action.

Tomorrow night they would have to change for the entire night. There would be no being able to shift into their human form. They would be wolves and werewolves under the full moon. They were basically mindless beasts under the full moon, easier to outsmart and outwit. Still, she would be on guard simply because they were stronger and more powerful because of the moon.

She tensed up when she heard a twig break behind her. She sensed the power of one of the werewolves behind her and pulled her gun out. She didn't want to face them without her shot gun, even though she used silver bullets for the Colt. She pulled back the hammer and shifted her weight. Ballet was a wonderful thing.

The wolf from tonight was snarling down at her. He was in his beast form, the form that was part man, part wolf. He stood on two, hunched legs. His curved spine did nothing to hide the fact that he was massive. His body was covered in a russet fur. Golden eyes glowed in the darkness down at her. His mussel dripped clear saliva and flashed huge, white teeth at her. She wrinkled her nose at the feral stench of the wolf.

She snapped, "Trying again, flea bag?"

"Bitch, you'll respect me," he snarled as he lunged for her. She cursed as her gun was knocked from her hand and onto the ground. She pivoted out of the way, but his claws caught her shirt.

She snarled as she looked down at the torn fabric. She felt everything grow keener. She could see every detail in the wolf's fur as she looked at him. Her fangs lengthened and grew more sensitive.

"What the hell?" he cursed as he looked at her.

Forest was pissed. She hissed, "What, flea bag, never seen a vampire before?" She launched her self at the wolf. She drew her fingers tight to release the agent that would make her finger nails grow into sharp claws.

She rolled at the last moment, burring her talons into his skin. She felt the warm rush of his blood on her finger tips. She could smell the wildness of it in the air. She spun back around and grabbed his arms. She twisted them behind his back and held on with all of her might.

He was stronger than she was, thrashing her around as he howled in pain. Forest relaxed, letting his body take most of the impact. Enough playing with flea bag, she thought as she grabbed onto his mind. Stop! She commanded.

He didn't. Instead, he ran strait back into a tree. She grunted as her body was jolted with the impact. He did it again, and her head crashed into the oak. She tasted her own blood in her mouth and gasped. Her back was hurting.

He then started to change. She gasped and jerked back as the sound of bones crunching as they re-knit together made her stomach churn. He stood before her, fully nude and human. Then he launched himself on her.

She was surprised by the attack. She tried to spin away or grab his arm and throw him when his body impacted into hers. He held her down, but he was human now. He was strong, but not as strong as she was. Besides, she could feel his arousal of the fight and her personally against her thigh. He fumbled his hand along her breast.

She laughed at him and he froze. She wrapped her hand around his neck and lifted. She lifted him off of her as she stood up. She held him up as he gasped for air. She could smell his blood, his fear as he started to change again.

She had other plans.

She snarled as she struck. His blood gushed into her mouth in a fiery rush. She drank of him until there was nothing. His blood rushed down her throats and her wounds resealed themselves. She dropped his body and picked up her Colt.

END EXCERPT

Elf was snoring lightly. She had been up late the last night working only to return home to RPG on the net, not to mention she had just downed a couple bottles of sake for her earlier award. So Forest was accepting the award.

The black clad vampire made her way to the sage with a couple of cat calls and whistles. She flashed her .44 Super Mag and it quieted them rather quickly.

She smiled as she reached the microphone and stated, "Good, bad, doesn't matter. I've got the gun. Werewolves, beware! I'd like to thank my writer and Tool. Oh, and Joss Whedon owns her soul."

After some clapping, she made her way down to Elf to try to wake her up, bashing her over the head with the award. Psy retook the stage.

"Next award is the Blood and Guts Award, in honor of what true horror is: pure, unadulterated gore! There were some complications with this one, since there were two fics really competing for it. The first was a great story with it that involved bloodletting, while the other just, well, was a long, complicated story that consisted of lots and lots of blood, which is what the award was kind of about. However, I chose the great story that involved bloodletting. The winner is `Conqueror's Trust,' by Drogan Niteflier!"

Drogan began running for the stage, the excerpt coming onto the screen...

EXCERPT:

There came, at long last, the day of our own Tannom.

We were taken from our crèche following our Priest, and guided to the Citadel once more. At the door to the Great Sanctuary, our Priest knelt by each of us, and embraced each of us gently. After the doors had closed behind us, I never saw him again.

We were formed into a semicircle like we had seen before, and waited. I looked at the red haired girl out of the corner of my eye, and we both smiled slightly. Even if we never met after today, I knew that she would always be in my heart.

I heard a door creak open, and I saw Her enter. She was dressed the same as before, black, knee high boots stepping carefully over the carved stone beneath us. Her elbow length gloves had seemingly random slashes taken out of them, but each palm and wrist were bare. Wide ribbons crossed down from her shoulders and from behind her back, covering her chest and hips, but leaving much still showing. A circlet of black gold wrapped around her head, with a strange symbol in the center of her forehead. Earrings of the same material and showing the same symbol dangled from her lobes. The jewel that rested between her breasts was a giant garnet, carved to look like a gaping skull.

She looked over us, gazing at each of us in turn, and began to glide down the line, carefully observing each of us in turn. As she approached me, my thoughts turned to the sacrifice of life one of us had to make. I started to recall all the times my friend and I talked of the Tannom, and which would be more honor: To be blessed, or to be used as the blessing? I had reached a conclusion. It was infinitely more honorable to be used as a sacrifice, especially for one's family.

She swept past me, continuing on, but I was not yet disappointed, for at the end of the line, She paused, then came back. Each of the others that She passed looked up at Her in awe, hoping, perhaps, as I was, that She would pick them?

She slowed, then stopped. I looked up into Her dark eyes, and was puzzled. What was this feeling of great loneliness, this exhaustion that is overwhelming me?

Her hand goes down to Her hip, and She draws her dagger. My eyes light up and joy overcomes the feelings that are so strange to me. It was me! I was the one chosen!

She looks me over very closely, studying every detail. A part of my mind not rejoicing notices the priests behind Her are frowning and whispering among themselves. She holds the dagger in front of me, examining something in the blade and comparing it to me. Finally, She smiles, a satisfied, but dark expression. I blink and find the hilt of the dagger facing me, Her hand gripping the blade tightly, staining the metal with red.

The priests observing the Tannom gasp in shock, and the others from my crèche look at me in wonder. I reach out and take the hilt in my hand, and in the instant I do, several Truths became known to me.

This dagger was the Talisman of the Senshi of the planet, Sailor Surnuro, The Senshi of Death.

Only females could become Surnuro, and only one Surnuro could be in existence at one time.

Surnuro, because she was the Senshi of Death, could not be killed in all but the most extreme of circumstances.

There were other Senshi, for other planets, but it was rare that they left their homeworld.

There was a Word of Power required to become the Sailor, but only for the initial transformation.

These Truths I took in, my head reeling from the knowledge forced into my mind. I focused, and took the Talisman from Her, Surnuro. I looked up at Her, and She whispered, "Illhara..."

She stepped back, and spread her arms wide, the smile still on Her face. The same analytical part of my brain noted the priests were hurrying over, and that they did not look happy. My arm rose of its accord, and drove the Talisman deep into Surnuro's belly. I slice upwards, scarlet runneling down to the floor, the blade parting flesh roughly, and grinding to a halt against Her ribs. I push harder, and start to rock the weapon, sawing against the bones, and finally stopping in the middle of Her sternum.

A single swift twist, a loud crack in the silence of the Sanctuary, and Surnuro's chest is split open. She winces, and falls to her knees, streams of her blood running down her legs, and pooling beneath us on the floor. The cold, analytical part of me again notices that the priests have left, and that the others of my crèche are gathered around Surnuro and me. The two sides of Her chest are hanging loosely, Her heart and lungs visible. I reach up and grasp her heart, feeling it beat beneath my hand. A single, swift stroke and it is released from its prison of flesh.

Surnuro's eyes finally close, and she topples back, dead at long last.

I bring Her heart up to my head and smear her blood onto my brow. My sight is clouded with red, but I blink it away, and see the others, faces lit up, coming closer to me. I reach out and hug my friend and she smiles and kisses me. The blade slips easily into her, with none of the resistance that Surnuro provided, and her blood soon adorns me as well.

Thirty-one die by my hand that night, and their blood is spread onto my head, blessing me, and giving me a new life.

END EXCERPT

"First off, I would like to thank Griever and E for proofreading this story, and giving me a suprising mirror at times for my other works. I also thank the judge for liking it enough to choose it, and Mediaminer.org for hosting my fics, for with out that, I would have no place for them. I hope that those who have read this story have enjoyed it, even though I am not quite done with it's finale. For those who wish to see more of this Senshi, I am contemplating a longer story for her, set in the present day. I am also looking forward to completing my collection of The Eight (Just four more to go now!)"

And with that, Drogan walked off the stage. Psy once more took the podium, smiling in happiness from the two horror winners so far.

"All right, and finally we have the Shining Award! This one's for Psychological horror, that neato stuff where we mess with people's heads. And the winner is... `Drive,' by Arithkenshin!"

Arith came running out from backstage yelping in happiness and hugging Psy as the projector began the excerpt...

EXCERPT:

Brief Summary to bring you up to speed on what happens in the 10 pages before this…

The pilots are given a mission that requires all five of them. When they complete the objective it becomes apparent that the mission parameters were falsified. Something is in the base, but it isn't human and its making them all act strangely. Duo's dream intrudes on reality before it wakes him up with a scream of agony. The other pilots try to patch up Duo's growing wounds… Trowa tries to speak to Duo… but Duo is in a haze. The excerpt starts here

Excerpt:

Duo heard the voice. It broke through the hazy world that his mind had retreated to since the nightmare, and it called to him. But it was still hard to distinguish from all of the others fighting for dominance in his head. There was darkness in there too, vying for control… trying to drown him.

He shook his head, trying to concentrate; he didn't have a clue how much time had passed since Trowa had called to him.

Time was important, but he couldn't remember why. He struggled to right himself in the bed, eyes falling to the gashes profusely leaking blood from his abdomen. How surreal. It was like the dream, and he couldn't help it. He laughed.

And just like in the dream, the blood flowed ... but this time it channelled through him. Duo screamed, indifferent to the plights of the other pilots in the room. All his mind could focus on was the churning mass of partially clotted blood tearing through his system.

It was surreal; it was painful…

It was ripping him apart.

Trowa was covered in the blood pouring from his friend. At the same time he felt the gash in his palm lengthen, adding its own fountain of blood to the mix. Frantically his mind tried to work at the set of circumstances, each time coming up with a complete blank.

Quatre and Wufei in turn gasped in shock as their wounds opened further. It seemed like they were bleeding in sympathy. But they weren't feeling drained…almost as if it wasn't their own blood.

Heero cried out for Duo, hand flying to his cheek as blood began to pour from the gash, his eyes opened in shock. It was a wound, a rancid, burning wound. He tried to focus, tried to remember how the hell it had happened. It hurt so much he wanted to scream, and he tried to clear his mind of the metallic scent of blood, which was cloying him.

Heero finally managed to focus on one of the creatures. It was one of those things that Duo had torn apart in the walkway before. Its pallid grey skin shone wetly. And it was doing its best to approach unobserved.

Ignoring the blood pouring down his face, coating and clinging to him, Heero stood. It saw him and a screech issued from it, driving all occupants of the room to cover their ears.

And then, as soon as it appeared, it was gone.

All four gazes were drawn to Duo. Violet eyes glowed, not looking at anything in particular, a predatory look on his face.

The long-haired youth pushed himself up into a sitting position. There was only one thought in his mind… his quarry. Slowly, he swung gore-covered legs over the side of the bed and pulled himself into a standing position. His legs were nowhere near as shaky as they should have been, all things considered.

Duo's mind felt like it was about to explode. It was almost like there was a battlefield in his skull and it hurt like hell. He tried to push it away, tried to squelch it. But it was as if the voices were mocking him, laughing at him… taunting him.

Blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth as he opened it to speak. His voice was almost a gurgling sound when the words emerged from it.

"It's not ours… it's theirs… all of theirs." And he laughed a laugh that would have risen the dead. The insane cackle made the others cringe, though only momentarily.

Heero raised his eyes to look at the Deathscythe pilot, cocking his bloody head to one side. He pondered the words Duo had spoken, trying to force reason from his stuffy head. Suddenly something clicked in him and it all seemed to make sense. The Wing pilot joined Duo in laughter…the sound mocking and still terrifying.

Heero's eyes lowered to stare at his hands before he brought them up once more to clutch at the gaping wound in his face. Blood still poured from it and he spoke to himself, though loud enough for the others to hear over Duo's insane laughter.

"He is right, he is. Not ours… all of theirs… everyone… everyone ever… even the little puppy…"

Heero's voice peeled off into reams of laughter, his eyes bright and feverish.

Quatre looked between the two of them and back at Trowa and Wufei. "What's going on? This isn't them… it's like they've split!"

Trowa was trying to staunch the blood flow in his hand, and he only answered absently. "I don't know, Quatre, but I would be willing to bet the fact that the reason we're all bleeding profusely is…"

He was cut off as a squeal emerged from the blonde's throat. Following the Sandrock pilot's progression, Trowa watched the blond dive onto what seriously looked like something from another world.

It was shadow-like and didn't have an actual mouth… its eyes were sunken and its form was dark grey, globby flesh. Quatre fell upon the thing, an eagerness to his actions which belied his usual compassionate nature. He tore chunks from its flesh, laughing softly all the while.

Duo pushed his way past to join the blond, blood trailing in his wake. When Quatre was almost done shredding the thing to bits, Duo pushed him out of the way and bent down once more to kiss the grey substance from its lips.

He straightened and snickered softly, wiping the back of a hand across his lips before licking them. "A soul for my own… or where it should be…"

Heero's laughter increased and he came forward and leaned against Duo. Duo's eyes focused on the chocolate haired boy in front of him and the smile that crossed his lips would have put the grim reaper to shame.

Heero's hands rested in Duo's wounds, feeling the flow of blood pour over him, empower him. He groaned as Duo raised one hand to gouge at the gash on his face. Moans escaped both of them as Duo leaned down to claim a kiss from him. Pulling back, they both licked the blood from their lips.

Trowa and Wufei watched the scene, feeling as if they weren't really there. Trowa shook his head and moved towards Wufei as his only lucid ally. But what he saw happening in those onyx eyes made him stop short.

Those eyes went from lucid and sane to completely bereft of rational thought the next, and the blood started pouring freely down the Chinese man's arm. The black gaze was directed a little past Trowa and a feral grin settled over the usually handsome features.

Wufei screamed a battle cry and launched himself at yet another of the slimy grey creatures. He was joined by a gleeful Quatre, who didn't seem to notice the blood sticking to every part of his body, or the gore matted in his hair.

Trowa felt like he was slipping and fought to maintain his control. It was as if something had invaded his mind and was wrestling command from him. He didn't like it one bit. So engrossed was he in the fight, that he only vaguely noticed Duo performing that strange mouth to mouth once more, before claiming Heero in another kiss. The kiss was more heated this time, hands delving into the flesh of the other… both oblivious to pain.

It made Trowa feel sick, and that was when he lost his grip. He could feel himself roughly pushed to the back of his mind as something else took over with an enthusiasm that was frightening.

A voice cackled around them, cold, heartless and commanding. "Ahh, so much sin, so much shame. You fill me with longing… all of you."

All five of their husks laughed, while the fivepart of them imprisoned in their minds tried to rally for control.

END EXCERPT

"I have no idea where this one came from, it just seemed to happen. The song that inspired it isn't really a horror song, but this is what I got from it anywho."

She snickered softly. "I loved writing and still can't believe that I actually wrote it... *glomps* to everyone... and thanks a bunch!"

She gave one last hug to Psy as she bounced backstage happily. Psy grinned and retook the podium.

"That's it for Horror! I hope you all peed your pants from this experience. Next up is Scifi, so all you nerds and geeks can come back now!"

Continued...