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 Dry Creek (Not Intended for Younger Users) 
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Hylian Swordsman
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Joined: Wed Jan 14, 2009 8:46 pm
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Post Dry Creek (Not Intended for Younger Users) • Posted: Thu Aug 20, 2009 10:41 am
The day was growing weary, the sun falling upon the smaller town of Dry Creek, Minnesota as the stores closed down, tired from serving customers all day long. Halloween was near, the Jack-o-Lanterns and house decorations were up, Autumn leaves were floating with the wind, dancing to it’s silent melodies and kids were going home from their activities outside, chatting away at what they were going to dress up as.

One store on the other hand was still open, running until ten o’clock. The store was full of candies for all year long, not just this special day where kids would fill up on candy, the store name painted on an older looking sign in red letters; “Marty’s Candy Emporium!”, a mighty name even though it wasn’t so big as the name said it would be. The store owner, Marty Stewart, a man in his late forties with a bald head and older looking clothing was at the sun falling, thinking about how much he hated Halloween, the time when he had to drop the prices of all his merchandise.

“Well, to another day of dropped prices…” he said to himself, wishing he had a beer to drink, his favorite beverage, annoyed at his wife always nagging him about drinking. It wasn’t an addiction, but she wouldn’t leave him alone at all, just nagged and nagged and nagged.

He relaxed somewhat, watching teenagers walk by, doing their usual thing of flipping him off or laughing at the fact that this place has candy for those little kids that wanted a little sweet, always crying when they couldn’t get what they wanted… So annoying to Marty. All he wanted to do was go home and drink while sitting on his chaise longue and watch some television. He started thinking about that when he started to hear some kind of scratching.

Marty tensed up, looking around quickly, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from… Sounded to him like it was in the back. He took a step, and the scratching stopped for a few seconds before starting back up, more aggressive than before. This puzzled Marty greatly, he wanted to know what that scratching was, and wanted to know badly.

“Hello?” he called out, but got nothing. The scratching seemed to get worse, even harder and faster, the sun going down until it was dark, only eight; two more hours until Marty could go home.

Marty took another step, and another, and as he did so, the scratching intensified, causing Marty’s heart to beat faster and faster as he went slowly to the back of the shop, down the hallway that lead to the fire escape, storage room and basement, the scratching getting worse and worse as he approached the door to the right of the hallway; the basement.

Heart was pounding harder and harder, and Marty feared that this would continue and give him a heart attack.

“Bet it’s a mouse…” he whispered to himself, reaching his shaking hand slowly to the doorknob, grasping it in his hand, twisting it slowly. The door creaked open, the scratching intensified for a second, then when it was fully open, Marty looked down……

…….nothing. That caused Marty to sigh in relief, his heart slowly pounding less, and he turned away from the dark abyss of the basement when something called for him. It was silent, but it rang through his mind.

Marty slowly turned, staring into the darkness of the basement as that inaudible call ran through his head once more. Marty couldn’t take it, he had to explore downstairs. He turned around, then went into the storage room where he kept most of the spare stuff that his wife didn’t want in their house, such as the three chairs that their dog had ruined, a few vases, Marty’s own -mother’s urn-, and other things.

Scavenging around for a flashlight, the voice kept calling for him until he finally found one, turning it on to test it. It had enough power, it lit the dimmer room quite well, so satisfied, Marty turned and walked into the hallway once more, turning the flashlight on and pointed it down into the basement before he started going down the wooden stairs, them creaking loudly with each step. “Stupid boards, I’ll have to get them fixed one of these days…” he muttered to himself, ignoring his massive pot belly from over all the years of drinking, eating, sleeping and watching a store.

Once Marty was on the basement floor, he pointed the flashlight around, the calling for him now gone, but that eerie feeling was still in the back of his mind, eating away at his curiosity greatly.

“Anyone here?” he asked, a stupid question since there was no voices, but something just in his mind nagging him like his wife when he had to mow the lawn, but was too lazy to do so himself. “If there are any pranksters, get out now!” he called out, heading quickly towards the light source in the middle of the basement, to illuminate the boilers and all that other stuff to keep the place warm during winter and to keep power in this building.

The switch for the light bulb was a string, one that was fraying away until replaced with another one, but unfortunately that had been two years ago, and this one had also started to fray. Marty wrapped his hand around it, then yanked down which caused the light to turn on, illuminating the room, but it wasn’t what Marty had remembered, not at all.

Marty’s mouth dropped open as he stared around at the new assortment of things; water ran down the walls, tainted with dirt and a weird, grayish color from the dimming light bulb, chains hung from the ceiling going down to Marty’s throat before going back up, too many dark spots where little cabinets looking over a century old lay, but what scared Marty the most was what was between the exit and him… prison bars.

“No! What the hell is this!?” Marty screamed, turning round quickly, staring in horror. There were skeletons lying in corners, maggots eating away at the remainders, blood staining the walls, the heaters were now a table, rotting meat strewn across them.

“What… Is… This… Place!?” Marty screamed, feeling something wet against his shoulder, and he turned his head slowly to see something so dark, it was hard for him to tell any distinction between it and the shadows besides it’s mouth, lined with sharp, bloody teeth.

Breathe was foul, and it caused Marty to cringe, and he knew death was upon him.

“But… But… you’re a folk tale!” he screamed as the light blew out, shards flying everywhere, his only reaction was to point the flashlight at the monster, but it was useless; in seconds, the flashlight was hit out of his hand along with his left hand, and he screamed out in pain.

Something wrapped around his legs, causing him to fall over, blood smearing where he was. The flashlight was so close, and while screaming he reached his right hand for the flashlight, it being illuminated by the limited lighting, blood covering it. The monster pulled Marty back, and he grabbed the ground for support, but it was no avail; he just left a blood smear. He screamed once more before the flashlight went out for good, then there was just silence except for heavy breathing, dying out slowly…

*but yeah, remind me every day to continue this story, I wanna finish this one for once. ;p*


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