Does the horror short story exist? - Tilted Forum Project Discussion Community

robbdn · 04-22-2005, 12:34 AM

Perhaps horror isn't the right word... but there is no other short way to say it. We all know about the genre called horror, and we know about its sub-genres and formulas. We know this genre exists in many different mediums. This isn't what I'm making this thread for, but it makes for a regrettably convenient title.

Let me get this out of the way right now, I love horror formulas, in film and in books. I am, however, more interested in the horror short, I might even say the avant garde version of horror. This has been around in film for some time, from Maya Deren to David Lynch. This kind of horror is nonlinear, perhaps not even a narrative at all, disturbingly visceral, and very concerned with images, often loosely associated, where meaning is never explicit. Is it possible to reproduce these kinds of experiences with the written word? I'm not sure, but I've been looking for short stories that convey this feeling for some time with very few results. I think something that was posted here, The Deepest Hole, by docbungle is one of the best examples I've seen. http://www.tfproject.org/tfp/showthread.php?t=86307

I hope that people will share here what they think is scary, really scary, and point in the direction of short stories that might offer the experience. I want to share one of my attempts to create this, and I hope you will not by shy about tearing it to pieces in the interest of finding what creates this feeling -- and what doesn't. I hope that others will also be willing to contribute here in the pursuit of the horror short story. But to avoid the formula of traditional horror, please no linear narratives.

robbdn · 04-22-2005, 12:45 AM

The Stain

Before I begin, let me clarify one thing. The story I’m about to tell you doesn’t take place in any one particular location—this is a global story. It’s not about any person in particular. While I am the star, it’s just as much about you as it is about me. I hope that will clear up some of the confusion you are about to experience, because I’m not in the mood to answer any of your petty questions while I try and explain what happened.

Define aloneloop=”I am so cold. The darkness envelops me and the world falls away. My insecurity is the only thing that seems to have any power in this place. It pushes me into the void.” Time-- Memory++

10.
I was driving back to work. No, I was on my lunch break. Well, I had a burger in one hand and a soda in the other, but I wanted a freedom fry. So, I leaned over to set down my drink in the cup holder and reach into the paper sack on the floor of the passenger side. I only took my eyes off the road for a second. It was not long before I had the delicious morsel clasped in my plump fist; I brought it towards my mouth as I leaned over to make the whole motion quicker and get my eyes back on the road where they belonged but then the world went dark and I can’t remember anything else. aloneloop
9.
I am driving back to work. Yeah, that’s right, I’m on my lunch break. That’s weird… how do you know? I… I’m in a car. I don’t like it. I’m thinking that I’d rather just run my car off the bridge and FUCKING DIE than go back to that festering pit of pettiness. Heh. I’m not going to though, heheh. So… ah… I’ll go to McDonald’s instead. Why? Oh, because I saw a movie a little while ago about a guy who wanted to see if Hamburgers are deadly (they are). I’m ordering a DoubleQuarterPounder with cheese (and bacon, and extra salt, and fries, and coke coke coke coke coke coke coke). The Hamburgers, and my mouth instantly waters. I drive a way (not necessarily this or that), and I am fixated on The Hamburger. I approach it, carefully, I don’t want to frighten it. I caress it gently. I seedle the bun as I plump it with my eye. I tick-tock the simpering side and sizzle with delight. But the betrayal! The betrayal! Betrayal The Hamburger rejects me outright, and I feel so sick that I start puking (out) my guts (out). Nothing feels better. With a single poke, The Hamburger vanishes down my throat. My eyes water and my body jerks forward against the steering wheel. The sound of the horn accents my ecstasy. I vaguely hear the saliva being forced past the lump in my throat as my body struggles to eject Betrayal. I say something like CCCCCCCCCHGHGH! HHHHUCK HHHRAAGH and buck furiously fighting the seat belt praying to be set free. I smile as tears run down my face and pain rips through my bulging throat, then the world goes dark and. I don’t remember anything. Else, aloneloop
8.
I remember what will happen. Given the absurd nature of yesterday’s events, I’d better know what will happen. I will fill out the crossword puzzle like this:

I will fall asleep for a little nap before work. I will be chewing on my pen (I always do). It will break in my mouth and the ink will drain onto my tie. I will drive myself to work, and then I will notice the stain. Then I will understand that I have nothing to live for because of the stain. I will do something I’ve always wanted to do: I’ll go to go to McDonald’s and eat two double cheeseburgers, then I’ll go to go to Jack-in-the-Box and eat two ultimate cheeseburgers, then I’ll go to Burger King and eat two whoppers, then I’ll go to the bar and have a bottle of whiskey by myself but before I get there I will puke all over myself on purpose (to cover up the damned stain) and my steering wheel by accident (because I will have eaten so much that the vomit is rather explosive) I will pass-out while driving and run over two children at a cross-walk. Then the world goes dark, and I don’t. Remember anything else. aloneloop
7.
It was the car, don’t you see, it was her. I saw her. She went over to the building knelt by the corner. Rubbing her tires against the building for support, she leaned over to look around the corner without being spotted. That’s when she winked at me, and I knew then that we were in love. My heart soared, and I wanted nothing more than to ride her long and hard all the way to Mexico. There, we could be together forever. The money I earned (stole) as an accountant should more than cover the rest of our lives in a shitty country like Mexico. So I ditched my old car, covered in blood, bile, and bibble-dee-bum. So I ran across the street to the new beautiful car. So, I kicked her into gear, and hearing her lovely voice cry out in painful bliss we were off just like that.
6.
Some are unfortunate to never understand the nature of true love. You are one of them, Seven. Think outside the . If you really loved her, you would have nightmares.
5.
Second chances are never enough. Just when you think it’s time to escape you’re locked up in hell again. I love the purr of your engine. The sound of your sweet menstruation dripping on the sidewalk. I bashed you through a window, I bashed you with a rock, your hunger’s still contagious, I’ll bash you with my cock. But first, I need something to eat. aloneloop
4.
There’s a lot of killing going on right now. We are, once again, embittered with the fatigue of war and determined to destroy all of our enemies.
3.
Betrayal once again rears its ugly head. I am five years old and feeling fantastic. Until… my brother comes along. Until aloneloop
2.
Can I go back before my own birth? I kick my feet and dislodge from the vagina, only to find myself held by a machine.
1.
Here we go.

Divide by zero error.

Restart.

1 + 2 = 3

1 + 2 + 3 = 6

6 + 1 = 7

7 – 2 = 5

5 + 4 = 9

9 – 1 = 8

3,6,7,5,9,8 = TRUE

1,2,4,10 = FALSE

ryborg · 04-24-2005, 12:47 PM

I just read your story. I program a lot. I also write a lot. Language facinates me. Here is what this was for me, even if its completely wrong:

It is an algorithm you wrote yourself, an algorithm you wrote to solve a very finite problem, but you made a mistake in the syntax somewhere and it errors out. You trace back through it. It should be easy enough. You wrote it yourself. But somewhere along the way you start to lose track of what the variables are being set to, and you start to mix up the values. You get lost in your own creation, and you forgot how you go there, so you start over. You trace through it again, but this time you work yourself back to a completely new beginning. How is this possible? You restart. You go back through the loop. The same problem. You suddenly stop. You aren't examining a program. You are examining your life -- a problem that always ends in death, the ultimate and unavoidable return value of life() -- a constant. You tryed to go back through the solution, your day to day existence, but along the way you realized that it was all mixed up, a confusing haze of memories and decisions and failures. You tried to trace back but realized it was impossible, the past was past you. No matter how many times you tried to go back through the loop you discovered a new way of living -- an infinate number of solutions to an unchanging answer. You have only one option.

Insanity.

04-22-2005, 12:34 AM	#1 (permalink)
robbdn Crazy	Does the horror short story exist? Perhaps horror isn't the right word... but there is no other short way to say it. We all know about the genre called horror, and we know about its sub-genres and formulas. We know this genre exists in many different mediums. This isn't what I'm making this thread for, but it makes for a regrettably convenient title. Let me get this out of the way right now, I love horror formulas, in film and in books. I am, however, more interested in the horror short, I might even say the avant garde version of horror. This has been around in film for some time, from Maya Deren to David Lynch. This kind of horror is nonlinear, perhaps not even a narrative at all, disturbingly visceral, and very concerned with images, often loosely associated, where meaning is never explicit. Is it possible to reproduce these kinds of experiences with the written word? I'm not sure, but I've been looking for short stories that convey this feeling for some time with very few results. I think something that was posted here, The Deepest Hole, by docbungle is one of the best examples I've seen. http://www.tfproject.org/tfp/showthread.php?t=86307 I hope that people will share here what they think is scary, really scary, and point in the direction of short stories that might offer the experience. I want to share one of my attempts to create this, and I hope you will not by shy about tearing it to pieces in the interest of finding what creates this feeling -- and what doesn't. I hope that others will also be willing to contribute here in the pursuit of the horror short story. But to avoid the formula of traditional horror, please no linear narratives. __________________ I'm swimming in the digital residue of a media-drenched world. It's too cold.

04-22-2005, 12:45 AM	#2 (permalink)
robbdn Crazy	The Stain The Stain Before I begin, let me clarify one thing. The story I’m about to tell you doesn’t take place in any one particular location—this is a global story. It’s not about any person in particular. While I am the star, it’s just as much about you as it is about me. I hope that will clear up some of the confusion you are about to experience, because I’m not in the mood to answer any of your petty questions while I try and explain what happened. Define aloneloop=”I am so cold. The darkness envelops me and the world falls away. My insecurity is the only thing that seems to have any power in this place. It pushes me into the void.” Time-- Memory++ 10. I was driving back to work. No, I was on my lunch break. Well, I had a burger in one hand and a soda in the other, but I wanted a freedom fry. So, I leaned over to set down my drink in the cup holder and reach into the paper sack on the floor of the passenger side. I only took my eyes off the road for a second. It was not long before I had the delicious morsel clasped in my plump fist; I brought it towards my mouth as I leaned over to make the whole motion quicker and get my eyes back on the road where they belonged but then the world went dark and I can’t remember anything else. aloneloop 9. I am driving back to work. Yeah, that’s right, I’m on my lunch break. That’s weird… how do you know? I… I’m in a car. I don’t like it. I’m thinking that I’d rather just run my car off the bridge and FUCKING DIE than go back to that festering pit of pettiness. Heh. I’m not going to though, heheh. So… ah… I’ll go to McDonald’s instead. Why? Oh, because I saw a movie a little while ago about a guy who wanted to see if Hamburgers are deadly (they are). I’m ordering a DoubleQuarterPounder with cheese (and bacon, and extra salt, and fries, and coke coke coke coke coke coke coke). The Hamburgers, and my mouth instantly waters. I drive a way (not necessarily this or that), and I am fixated on The Hamburger. I approach it, carefully, I don’t want to frighten it. I caress it gently. I seedle the bun as I plump it with my eye. I tick-tock the simpering side and sizzle with delight. But the betrayal! The betrayal! Betrayal The Hamburger rejects me outright, and I feel so sick that I start puking (out) my guts (out). Nothing feels better. With a single poke, The Hamburger vanishes down my throat. My eyes water and my body jerks forward against the steering wheel. The sound of the horn accents my ecstasy. I vaguely hear the saliva being forced past the lump in my throat as my body struggles to eject Betrayal. I say something like CCCCCCCCCHGHGH! HHHHUCK HHHRAAGH and buck furiously fighting the seat belt praying to be set free. I smile as tears run down my face and pain rips through my bulging throat, then the world goes dark and. I don’t remember anything. Else, aloneloop 8. I remember what will happen. Given the absurd nature of yesterday’s events, I’d better know what will happen. I will fill out the crossword puzzle like this: I will fall asleep for a little nap before work. I will be chewing on my pen (I always do). It will break in my mouth and the ink will drain onto my tie. I will drive myself to work, and then I will notice the stain. Then I will understand that I have nothing to live for because of the stain. I will do something I’ve always wanted to do: I’ll go to go to McDonald’s and eat two double cheeseburgers, then I’ll go to go to Jack-in-the-Box and eat two ultimate cheeseburgers, then I’ll go to Burger King and eat two whoppers, then I’ll go to the bar and have a bottle of whiskey by myself but before I get there I will puke all over myself on purpose (to cover up the damned stain) and my steering wheel by accident (because I will have eaten so much that the vomit is rather explosive) I will pass-out while driving and run over two children at a cross-walk. Then the world goes dark, and I don’t. Remember anything else. aloneloop 7. It was the car, don’t you see, it was her. I saw her. She went over to the building knelt by the corner. Rubbing her tires against the building for support, she leaned over to look around the corner without being spotted. That’s when she winked at me, and I knew then that we were in love. My heart soared, and I wanted nothing more than to ride her long and hard all the way to Mexico. There, we could be together forever. The money I earned (stole) as an accountant should more than cover the rest of our lives in a shitty country like Mexico. So I ditched my old car, covered in blood, bile, and bibble-dee-bum. So I ran across the street to the new beautiful car. So, I kicked her into gear, and hearing her lovely voice cry out in painful bliss we were off just like that. 6. Some are unfortunate to never understand the nature of true love. You are one of them, Seven. Think outside the . If you really loved her, you would have nightmares. 5. Second chances are never enough. Just when you think it’s time to escape you’re locked up in hell again. I love the purr of your engine. The sound of your sweet menstruation dripping on the sidewalk. I bashed you through a window, I bashed you with a rock, your hunger’s still contagious, I’ll bash you with my cock. But first, I need something to eat. aloneloop 4. There’s a lot of killing going on right now. We are, once again, embittered with the fatigue of war and determined to destroy all of our enemies. 3. Betrayal once again rears its ugly head. I am five years old and feeling fantastic. Until… my brother comes along. Until aloneloop 2. Can I go back before my own birth? I kick my feet and dislodge from the vagina, only to find myself held by a machine. 1. Here we go. Divide by zero error. Restart. 1 + 2 = 3 1 + 2 + 3 = 6 6 + 1 = 7 7 – 2 = 5 5 + 4 = 9 9 – 1 = 8 3,6,7,5,9,8 = TRUE 1,2,4,10 = FALSE __________________ I'm swimming in the digital residue of a media-drenched world. It's too cold.

04-24-2005, 12:47 PM	#3 (permalink)
ryborg Crazy	I just read your story. I program a lot. I also write a lot. Language facinates me. Here is what this was for me, even if its completely wrong: It is an algorithm you wrote yourself, an algorithm you wrote to solve a very finite problem, but you made a mistake in the syntax somewhere and it errors out. You trace back through it. It should be easy enough. You wrote it yourself. But somewhere along the way you start to lose track of what the variables are being set to, and you start to mix up the values. You get lost in your own creation, and you forgot how you go there, so you start over. You trace through it again, but this time you work yourself back to a completely new beginning. How is this possible? You restart. You go back through the loop. The same problem. You suddenly stop. You aren't examining a program. You are examining your life -- a problem that always ends in death, the ultimate and unavoidable return value of life() -- a constant. You tryed to go back through the solution, your day to day existence, but along the way you realized that it was all mixed up, a confusing haze of memories and decisions and failures. You tried to trace back but realized it was impossible, the past was past you. No matter how many times you tried to go back through the loop you discovered a new way of living -- an infinate number of solutions to an unchanging answer. You have only one option. Insanity. __________________ Solve two problems at once. Feed the homeless to the hungry.