Excerpts and Scenes - Spooktober 2022

I've decided to combine this challenge with my own short story challenge this month. Whenever I like a Spooktober prompt, I'll combine it with one of mine. These are all prose, but some of them are so long that I made separate articles for them.
A small warning beforehand: some of these prompts include mentions or descriptions of violence or other disturbing content. Some of them are also quite lengthy. I was finally able to figure out spoiler buttons, so at least there's no more scrolling through the whole page.

---

Oct.5 - Misfortune

In Rifthaven, two boys meet at night to exchange goods. When they are attacked by bandits, will they prevail?
Misfortune

I wrote this knowing they'd get attacked, and it kind of spiraled from there. I know it probably doesn't fit the prompt very well, as well as being slightly rushed near the end, but I think it's okay for now.

Oct.6 - Chasm

Enjoy this cryptic snippet from a story I have. Yes, it's a very dark story. No, it is nowhere even remotely near finished.
Chasm and Fault

She is in the dark. She wants to escape. She cannot.
She claws at her arms, at her throat, at her back. The creatures surround her on all sides, tug at her hair, and run what passes for their hands over her face. One, in particular, leans its face towards hers, hissing words in her ears.
Who are you, she tries to cry, followed by Where are we?
But she knows where she is. She knows how she got there.
She simply does not want to admit what she has done, what she felt, and what she let happen.
She does not want to admit that the reason she is in this place of darkness, fear, and pain, this pit of hatred, this chasm of despair, is that she was foolish enough to walk into that building looking for help and let that thing into her head.
But she refuses to admit it, and so she is trapped here until she remembers. Until then, she will stay with these creatures in this place while everyone she loves is lost again and again.
Death is not true suffering, you see. For her, life is.

Oct. 8 - Howl

I wrote this using the Spooktober prompt "howl" and my own prompt "heart". I hope you like it! (Minor warning for violence)
Howl and Heart

Oct. 9 - Mirror

For this prompt, I used the "mirror" prompt and added one of my own, "blood". This is part of a story in which one character who can read minds continuously tries to see inside the mind of an ally. During a major fight with all the characters, the girl lets him see her memories to make him back down. WARNING: this includes mentions and descriptions of extreme abuse and violence.
Mirror and Blood

He tries to pull away from the memories, but her mind seizes onto his and drags him farther in. You wanted to see this, she snarls. So see it.
This isn't what I wanted, he tries to beg. I didn't think—
But she's done listening. She pulls him down, down, into the depths of her soul, the inside of her mind, and there is no escape.
The darkness breaks open into a kaleidoscope of color and light. Silk gowns, lace on the edges of curtains, and satiny sheets against her skin. The best wine on the tables. White tiles scrubbed clean every day. A world of excess and wealth expands before his eyes.
And then the luxurious setting shatters like the glass she's so afraid of and he sees the filth beneath the surface.
Blood splattering on the tiles of hallway after hallway, her brother's screams echoing through the elegant doorways, a sip of juice that turns into bile from the poison she drank last night, and the darkest of her memories, of hands holding her down on her bed and tears slipping down her face as a sliver of light illuminates her father's face.
He tries again to yank away, but her strength is something he's never felt before. This is what it's like, she tells him, to be alone. To be nothing to them.
Her memories curl tighter around him. He sees everything, every bruise, and cut, and welt. Fire on her back, silver piercing between her ribs, her screams never-ending. Pain so great she can't even feel it anymore, no matter how hard he hits her.
Glass breaks as she collides with the wall. Shards slice her face and arms as she hits the ground. Blood, so much blood, pooling around her hands as she pushes herself up and turns her head to look in a mirror at her side.
Her face is a horror of bruises and blood. Rivulets of dark red run over her cheeks, forehead, and shoulders. Her hair is plastered to her back, strands twisted into her mouth. But worst of all is the look on her face.
He wants to throw up, wants to run, wants to escape. Her eyes, normally so calm, expressive, and beautiful, are pits of darkness, a void of despair so huge it consumes him.
For just a moment, as she sees herself, her eyes show fear, pain, and desperation. But then a foot comes down on her back, her arms buckle, and her face goes completely blank.
She lets the memory hold for a moment and then pulls farther. Looking in a mirror again, at a different time. More bruises this time, all across her shoulders and neck. A bandage covers her left eye, and he realizes that this must be when she got that scar under her eyebrow.
Do you see? she asks, sounding almost tired. No. Not yet.
Hands on her throat, her brother's name in her mouth, the knife driving down, her scream hovering in the air, the way she begged as life bled from his body, the body of the only person she loved. Everything she ever did is gone, is nothing, is pointless if he isn't here.
She sobs and screams, but nothing will bring him back. And then she's safe, she's okay, she's away, but then the nightmares come and she has to remember. They come when she least expects, dreams of pain and terror and everything that happened to her.
Black and red and white and gray and green and blond and auburn and silver on his buttons, blue in her eyes, cream for her sheets. Please, no, don't hurt him, we'll be good. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I promise, I promise! Silk against her skin, hands on her body, blood on her face that she sees in the mirror. Glass breaking, shattering, cutting her apart.
This is what it's like, she reminds him, To be me.

Oct. 10 - Broken

This one is kind of long. I wrote it in one hour and stayed up until 12. I used the given prompt and my own, "death". It was originally supposed to only be a short part, but it ended up getting much longer because I started at the beginning. This article has a quote box you can scroll down to if you don't want to read the whole thing, that box has my original idea for the scene.
Broken and Death

Oct. 11 - Escape

I combined this prompt with my prompt "courage", creating this short story with a hopeful ending. It might be a bit long in this article, but it's short compared to some of my others.
Escape and Courage

Daylight seeps over the sill of a tower's window, illuminating three children shackled to the floor of a room.
The oldest lifts her head to look, squinting her eyes. Moving quietly, she shakes the others awake and slowly gets to her feet. The other two, one a girl and the other a boy, follow her lead, watching what she does.
The girl creeps to the window and peers out, then pulls back and gestures for her companions to lie down. Altogether, they curl back onto the floor as footsteps thump up the stairs and the door creaks open.
A single plate of food and a jar of water are pushed into the cell. The children wait for their captor to leave, and then spring up. The oldest girl waits for a moment and then holds out her hand. The chain links twist and separate, falling to the floor.
The other girl catches each link in her arms and lays them on the stone. When all three are free, the oldest hands the boy their provisions and then moves her hands around to link the chains together.
She drags the metal to the window and, with the help of the other girl, lowers it down the tower. She checks to ensure it reaches as far as possible while still remaining steady and then beckons to her friend.
The younger girl walks on shaking legs to the window. The older one places her hands on her shoulders and kisses her forehead. "Courage, sweetheart. You can do this."
The girl nods and then steps on the window and lifts herself out. Slowly and carefully she climbs down the wall, using the chain to help.
The older girl turns to the little boy. "We can do this." She climbs out the window and holds out her arms. The little boy is tucked into her grip, clutching their food and drink in his hands.
Moving agonizingly slowly, the three children make their way down the tower. They chose the perfect day. They are in plain view, but no one can be seen in any direction and no other windows are on the side they escape from.
Eventually, the younger girl reaches the end of the chain, a few feet above the ground. Fearlessly, she moves a bit farther down and then drops to the grass. The smile that stretches over her face is beautiful.
The older girl arrives moments later. She carefully untangles the youngest from her arms and lets him fall into the other girl's hold, then falls herself.
For a single minute, the three stand beneath the chain of their imprisonment and salvation, looking out at a world of potential. And then the oldest picks up the youngest, grips her friend's hand, and they run into their future.

Oct. 13 - Haunt

Made with the prompts "haunt" and "forgiveness". Somewhat fits with an old ghost story I had.
Haunt and Forgiveness

I walk the halls of the house that once was mine and wish that things were different. It has been many years since I died, yet nothing ever changes.
My walls never collapse. My doorknobs never rust. Even spiders do not spin their webs in darkened corners.
As I haunt the rooms I wonder about my death. It was quite different from other deaths. No illness or assault. Only rage.
Will I ever forgive the ones who caused my death? Will I ever leave this place where I was born, raised, and killed? Will I ever see my family again? I fear that I will not.
But I do not want to forgive them yet. I do not want to leave this house. And I do not want to see my family yet.
So I haunt the rooms of this house and wait for someone to visit.

Oct. 14 - Ruin

This one changed a bit from my original idea, but it works. I used the prompt "ruin" and my own, "glory".
Ruin and glory

She ducked under some branches and twisted around trees to emerge in a clearing dominated by an enormous marble building. At least, it had been enormous. And it probably was marble, or at least what was left of it.
The structure looked like it had been an important temple, palace, or meeting place. Probably built at the height of the Empire of Altaria, the building would have inspired awe with its imposing walls, columns, and roof. It would have been a pinnacle of glory and a true masterpiece.
At the moment, however, it was almost entirely demolished. Lyssa wasn't even sure how it could have happened.
There were no scorch marks on the ruins, no sign of catapult ammo, and there was no way this much destruction could have occurred just from the elements. In fact, it looked rather like something had smashed the roof in and then immediately disappeared.
Or, she realized suddenly, a Gifted had taken their anger out on it. But for this little to be left, a Gifted would have had to be either assisted by many others or terrifyingly furious.
So angry, Lyssa thought as she entered the ruins and saw even more, that they could and would tear this building apart as if shredding paper.

Oct. 15 - Mist

Using the prompts "mist" and "alone", this is a dream/vision sequence from one of my other stories. I skipped through sections to make it shorter, but I think it's good.
Mist and Alone

Her eyes open and she knows instantly she is in a vision because she can, indeed, see.
She stands in a chamber covered in vines and swirling with mist. She walks through the stone tunnels, pushing the leaves away so she can move. Like all of her visions, she is entirely alone.
Finally, she emerges into a huge cavern, the centerpiece of which is a dais of nine stone thrones. Awe fills her as she steps forward to see better. Upon closer inspection, she discovers that each throne has elegant letters carved into the surface.
She scans the words eagerly. Each one is a title of some sort. The Guardian, Silver Empress, Storm Lord...
Walking past the thrones, a row of slightly smaller but no less stunning. These are made of a whiter material, with words carved on their backs as well. She doesn't count them this time, but there are more than the other thrones. Instead, she skims the lettering. Death Prince she recognizes. Lady Mist sounds like Maya. She's not sure about Wisdom, but she has a suspicion.

Oct. 16 - Whisper

This is a small snippet I'll use in a recent story I came up with about parallel realms. The realm featured in this one is called the realm of pain, and the MC is walking through the villain's torture chambers. There is nothing described, but I hope it comes across as a little chilling. I used the Spooktober prompt "whisper" and my own, "fear".
Whisper and Fear

One foot in front of the other, she reminded herself. Step by step, she slipped down the halls of the fortress.
Voices surrounded her, pouring from open doors and shadowy corners. Whispers of fear and pain drilled into her mind. Helena shivered and pulled Marcia's lantern closer, sweeping the area in front of her carefully.
Dread pooled low in her stomach the further in she crept. Just as she peered around a wall, a chilling scream split the air. Helena flinched, nearly dropping the lantern. She clutched it close, her shoulders shaking with terror as a burst of gasping sobs began in the aftermath of the cry.

Oct. 17 - Shadow

I had a lot of ideas to fulfill this prompt, but I eventually settled on a scene snippet from a character. This bit of prose is mostly focused on the imagery, but there are some hints about her emotions and backstory. Along with the Spooktober prompt, I used my own, "rose".
Shadow and Rose

Blood drips onto the floor from her victim's neck. A black knife pierces his skin, gripped by her gloved hand.
The man's eyes widen. He chokes and grabs for her blade, but his hands are weak and they slide off her arms.
With a slight push, she removes her knife and lets him fall heavily on the balcony. She spins the blade over her fingers and then flicks her hand, dissolving it into shadow.
Turning around, she surveys the hall behind her where her other kills lie in various positions. Dark red spills across the ground like wine, mixing with fabric and hair.
She turns back to the balcony and lifts her hand. A twist of her wrist draws the shadows into the form of a single black rose, held gently in her fingers. She raises her head to the sky and lets the rose fall from her hold.
The flower hits the ground silently, its petals splattering blood. The girl tilts her head back, tears streaking through the blood on her face.
She stands there for a moment longer and then lowers her head, flattens her expression to one of blankness, and tugs up her hood. She takes a step back and spins once, disappearing in a swirl of black smoke and leaving behind the vicious devastation she was ordered to create.

Oct. 18 - Spirit

Some light necromancy going on in this story. This short piece fits into Jerde around this time, but maybe a few more years into the future. I went to a cemetery the same day I wrote it, so I had inspiration and some references for it. I used my own prompt "sacrifice" along with the Spooktober one.
Spirit and Sacrifice

Oct. 19. - Relic

My idea for this story was a grandmother telling her grandchild about a special artifact she owned. Because the prompt I picked was "tea", I made the object a teapot. It is placed somewhere in Jerde.
Relic and Tea

My teapot is a very old artifact, darling, but if you wish it, I will show you.
In the highest cabinet-- no, not that one. To the right. More to the right. Oh, wait, you passed it. Yes, that one-- no, no, the left one. Good. Now open it. Careful! Yes, now bring it to me. Thank you, darling.
Look closely now. Do you see how beautiful it is? The body is rounded and curved, the spout seamlessly emerges, and the paint is flawless. Notice the gold trim on the creases and edges. Yes, it is real. My father spared no expense when he had this retouched.
This teapot was a gift from my father for my fourteenth birthday. It came with four cups, four saucers, four plates, and two pitchers for milk and sugar. The other pieces are gone now, either broken or given away to friends and relatives. The pot is all I have left.
My father did not commission the set, nor did he make it himself. The set belonged to his mother, and her mother, and her father before that. In fact, my father was never quite sure how old it really was.
The reason it is so special, dearest, is that it is enchanted. Long ago, a Hexer placed a spell on it. Whatever liquid is placed inside is perfectly preserved. Tea remains hot, water stays cold, and milk never spoils. As well as preserving its contents, the teapot cannot be broken by someone who does not own it. It also returns to its owner if it is moved more than ten feet from them for longer than twelve hours.
Would you like it? Your cousins have taken all the rest. But this is a gift. I will grant you ownership, and you may take this relic with you wherever you go in life.
You do? Very well.
Dearest ____, my youngest grandchild, I give you this teapot as a gift. May it serve you well, and may you take good care of it. May it remain unbroken and untaken by others, and let it stay with you always. Remember this gift as a sign of my love and care for you. Use it well.

Oct. 22 - Lock

I had several ideas for this prompt, but after combining it with my own, "berry", I came up with this. There's less magic, no spookiness, and no connection to any stories I have. It's very simple and has no real ending, so I might eventually write some sort of short story to complete it.
Lock and Berry

Finally alone, he took out a light and walked deep into his chambers. Pulling aside a tapestry, he revealed a locked door, which he opened with a small metal key.
The passageway behind the tapestry was dark and cramped, but clean and dry. He strode down it until he reached another door, this one bound with a heavy padlock. Another key unlocked it.
Inside his secret, protected room was a pedastal on which rested a chest locked wih yet another keyhole. The man opened it with an object made of silvery metal.
With all of these protections, one would assume something extraordinarily precious must be held within. Instead, when the lid tilted back, it was to reveal an interior padded with white fabric and filled halfway to the top with dark red berries.
This was no normal fruit, of course. This was the man's family secret. The berries, which upon closer inspection could not be recognized, had allowed his grandparents to become enormously wealthy. By adding small amounts of the fruit to their famous jams, they created delicious products that were well-loved and enjoyed by all.

Oct. 24 - Curse

From the moment I saw this prompt on the list, I knew I would be pairing it with "dragon". In one of my stories, a character is under a curse that forces her to transform into a dragon. The scene below comes between two pivotal moments in her journey to break her curse. Don't expect much though, since this ends just before her personal revelation.
Curse and Dragon

Ava curled her arms around her body. Her shoulders shook with sobs. The concert had been a disaster. Just when she was beginning to control her voice, the song ended and the other sirens had taken over. And she could feel the slight pull in her chest that signaled the Dragon Master wanted to see how strong she was.
I'm not strong, she thought. I'm just a siren with a curse.
She finally lifted her face and looked at the window. It wasn't much, just a slim rectangular hole high in the wall of her cell. The light that came in was barely enough to make her cell considered dim, but the window was supposedly for "scenery", not light.
Ava wiped her face and then stared at her hands. Her tears shimmered gold, a sign that her dragon form was pulling through. She closed her hands into fists, trying to force it back. Not now, she begged.
Why had it chosen her for the curse? None of her siblings had shown even an inkling of siren power. How did she get stuck with it?

Oct. 25 - Possess

Although this scene has slight spoilers, I realized as soon as combining "possess" with my prompt, "fire", that it would fit this character perfectly. It doesn't actually happen in that story for a very long time, but I love skipping around my timeline as I feel like it.
Possess and Fire

She is surrounded by darkness that channels through her body. The flame that burns inside her heart, the one that has burned for her entire life, is besieged by this evil. Her light flickers and fades with every passing moment.
Time stretches. She feels as if she has been here for years, but her vision clears and she sees beyond her prison to realize it has been no more than hours. Her husband weeps, her daughter sobs, and she wishes that she had never looked inside that room.
Her body seizes with the darkness again. Evil is inside of her, and it wants to possess her.
She reaches out and presses her hand against the glass. Now, time skips. Seconds pass, yet she looks into the world and sees her daughter grown and her journey begun. She watches events play out, and at the moment he leaves, the Black pulls her under again.
Her fire will soon burn out, and then it will win.

Oct. 26 - Abyss

I combined the Spooktober prompt with mine, "depth". This scene can fit into one of my stories, although I'm not sure where exactly. I like the feeling evoked by the descriptions I used, so I'll eventually work it in.
Abyss and Depth

His hand scraped along the wall of the pass. The rock was rough under his palm, bits of stone rubbing into his skin.
He looked up at the sky to check his path. The bird was still above him, circling back every so often to stay wth him. It had been there for days, leading him across the plains, through the woods, and finally into this tight passage between two mountains.
Squeezing himself around a corner, he spotted his next destination, a gaping hole in the rock just ahead of him. Swallowing hard, he picked his way over, glancing up to look for his guide, who screeched loudly as if to say "What are you waiting for? Get to it!"
Carefully, he lowered himself into the entrance and slowly climbed down the rocks jumbled together inside. When he reached what seemed to be the bottom, he straightened up and peered around. Everything was dark.
A flapping of wings at the opening had him turning to witness the bird soar into the cavern and fly up to the ceiling. Moments later, glowing lights spread across the roof of the cave. They kept going, getting brighter and moving farther across the area and illuminating an enormous space.
He gaped at the sight. The path he was about to walk was a narrow strip of stone that wound through a huge abyss of mountain rock. The glowing material on the ceiling gave enough light for him to walk by, but not nearly enough to banish the darkness that hovered at the edges of his path.
He shuddered and looked for his bird, which chose that exact moment to land on his shoulder and scare him half to death.
"Don't do that again!" He gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "But thank you. Now let's go. My friends must be worried."
He took a step, comforted by the presence of his new friend, and began his trek through the depths of the abyss.

Oct. 28 - Darkness

For this prompt, I knew I had to combine it with "perfection", my own prompt. This is a character's flashback, one that doesn't come up in that story for quite some time.
Darkness and Perfection

She emerges from the darkness, and terror locks my bones in place. She is beautiful, but terrifyingly so. Her eyes are widely set, her lips are full, and her cheekbones are high and sharp.
She is perfect. There is no other way to describe such unearthly beauty. Her face is symmetrical, her skin is flawless, and her curves are gentle but pronounced.
In every way, she would be considered gorgeous. At least, physically so.
Her soul, as only I can see, is darker than the deepest pit and colder than a desert night. Her kindness does not exist. She appears to be the epitome of perfection, but beneath that perfection lies true and horrifying evil.
She smiles and it looks wrong. If a woman of that beauty smiled with genuine warmth, it could turn the tide of wars and convince the cruelest hearts to show mercy. But on her, the only feeling it evokes is fear.
Hello, Jessa, she says, and it sounds like a hiss. I’ve been waiting a very long time for you. Shall we begin?
And then she lunges forward, her features stretching and twisting, her limbs lengthening, her teeth sharpening, and seizes onto me. I struggle, but her eyes change to be entirely black, and all of my strength leaves me.
Darkness gathers behind her before it and her plunge into me and everything disappears.

Oct. 29 - Hunt

After an eventful weekend, I was finally able to write this scene from a new story. Inspired by the Spooktober prompt "hunt" as well as mine, "monster", I wrote this piece of the main characters fleeing from the villain's creatures. I'm not sure if the present tense works well, but it's what I used.
Hunt and Monster

They run through the trees, panting as they weave. Branches crunch and crash behind them as the monsters follow.
A tree looms out of nowhere, its trunk wider than a man is tall. Helena screams and throws up a hand. Joseph yanks her back and darts around it. "We're almost there," he shouts.
They duck beneath more branches, and then Joseph drags her into a hollow behind a tree, pulling back vines to reveal a small hiding space. They drop to the ground, Helena gasping for breath.
Footsteps thump outside as the creatures pass by. Helena slumps in relief, but Joseph remains tense. His wariness is proven warranted when a shadow flickers against the leaves.
A monster stands just beyond the tree they hide behind. It looks nothin like an animal, yet Helena can clearly see it scrunch its nose as it hunts for their scent.
Something dark drips from its strange claws, and she realizes with a surg of horror that it is blood. This is the same creature that was holding Caleb, which means—
Joseph clamps a hand over her mouth before she can make a sound. She grips his fingers so tight that she fears he will lose circulation, desperate for any sort of comfort. That is her brother's blood, and fears of what might have drawn it pound ceaslessly inside her head.
Joseph leans closer, pressing his lips against the side of her head as he whispers, "Don't make a sound. They will kill us if you do."
Helena nods sharply, trying to focus on the proximity of their bodies rather than her brother's state of safety. Think of how close you are, she thinks. Not what Caleb is going through. This is the boy you've loved for years holding you. Don't think about anything else. Don't. You can't help him if you get caught. Think about love, not fear.

Oct. 31 - Drown

Featuring a tortured character with multiple powers, this story also used my prompt of "learn". Although I only added it to the end, I think it's an interesting look at her mindset.
Drown and Learn

Dreams twist inside her mind like water. Her thoughts rush out of her head the way a river tumbles out of a broken dam.
As in every dream, she drowns, hovering in the deep blue depths of an endless ocean. Bubbles slip from her mouth and nose and drift toward the surface, where she can see the vague shape of the sun and the shadows of leaves. Her fingers sweep through the water, feeling it slide across her skin.
Her eyes are wide open, unbothered by the liquid against them. But water has never harmed her before, which is the reason this nightmare terrifies her so.
She raises a hand toward the sky, and horror surges in her gut when she sees blood trailing from her fingertips. She lifts her other hand and realizes they are covered in blood.
The surface of the water splits to reveal her mother's face, twisted in grief. The silence of the ocean transforms into screams and shouts. Before she can remember why the water crushes into her.
Can she still not control it? She should be twenty-three, yet she is only seventeen. Her power has warped the way they age on top of destroying everything she loved. Has she learned nothing? Will she forever destroy all she touches?
Her eyes snap open every night and morning, her scream still lodged in her throat as the memory of her sister's drowned face finally hits her.

I didn't actually kill a Verti, but I did complete this prompt, "Drown" which awarded me the badge.