Bogleech.com's 2018 Horror Write-off:
Pastiche
Submitted by Grimtalon
… The camera wobbled as it was set on the ground. The show host’s disquieting laughter still echoed, though he was off-screen. “Eh heh heh heh…” He walked back into the shot, a rope in hand. “It’s true, folks…heh heh heh…the ghosts are very real.” He limbered up his arm and tossed the rope high above, over a rafter…
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…and as the moon rose, he felt himself twisting, changing, becoming something no longer human, something unnatural…
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… “No, you fool! Not the drain!”
But it was too late, and the viscous fluid had already splashed into the water and began to bubble and grow…
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I’m running out.
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Item #: SCP-12539
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-12539 is to be kept in Section [REDACTED] of Site [REDACTED]. All personnel within 5 km must wear full hazardous material protective gear at all times. Within 2.5 km, the addition of…
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I have to keep going.
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… and though I followed these tracks from one sunrise to the next, never did I grow closer to the beast who could have created such impressions, such polypous protuberances as it used for locomotion being unseen by one who would count himself as sane; and yet I must follow…
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I have to write.
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… “but you didn’t come here for the coffee, now did you, sweetie?”
Her voice was like a drug. I felt myself losing what control I had. I made myself focus on those teeth, those fangs of hers. If I slipped too far, she was sure to get me…
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I hate it all, but I have to write.
I shove the keyboard away, lean my elbows on the desk and my head into my hands. I’m shaking. I can’t remember the last time I ate.
But I have to keep going.
I walk into the bathroom to check. The thing is there, wobbling in the bathtub. I can’t focus on it for very long, as it shifts and blurs and changes. I feel my mind going if I watch. Sometimes it kind of looks like an octopus, sometimes a frog, sometimes a mobius strip.
While I stand there, it reaches one (arm? tentacle?) out and drags it across the detritus on the floor. Bits of book covers are scattered like confetti. It plucks a piece of a Peter Straub cover, carries it to its (mouth? orifice? pore?) and dissolves it.
I’ve given it every book I could. Every horror paperback I could find at the thrift store. Every old EC comic I had collected. Every single creepypasta I could print. All the posts on r/nosleep, all the weird tumblr comments, all the SCPs, everything creepy or horrifying or spooky, and it needs more.
I have to keep writing.
I can’t let this poor baby starve.