7. "Godzilla" (Pacific Rim fanfiction)

Rain pelted the deck of the Saltchuck as seawater surged around its base.

“God, Captain Merrit!” cried McTighe, the first mate. “I haven’t seen a storm this bad since—”

“What,” shouted Merrit, as he wrestled the unruly wheel. “Since that film, The Perfect Storm?”

“What? No—”

“Twister?”

“No sir, I—”

“Frankenstein, then?”

McTighe made a face.

“Frankenstein?!”

“A storm brought Frankenstein's monster to life, McTighe!”

The captain let loose a roar of laughter which was almost lost on the storm's terrible winds.

“You may have your youth, McTighe, but you’re ignorant! Ignorant of a lot of pop culture!”

McTighe’s eyes bulged like golf balls.

“Godzilla!” he shrieked, pointing frantically. “Captain! Sir!”

“Eh? There was no storm in Godzilla, boyo! But there was one in The Wizard of Oz! And a sexy, hot witch, at that!”

The captain turned back to the wheel to release another roar of laughter, but immediately stopped—an enourmous shape had emerged before them.

Merrit stared at the radar.

“Kaiju…” he whispered.

The creature parted its luminescent maw and reared up upon its hind legs, sending shock waves of water heaving about the Saltchuck. 

The crew inside heard an alien war song—a shriek of ancient terrors.

Merrit's mind flooded with scenes from all the movies he’d watched over the years—specifically from IMDB’s Top 100.

“Oh, Jesus!” he moaned. “I’ve wasted my life!”

At that moment, a second gargantuan appeared behind them, and the crew felt themselves lifted high into the air...

250 Words.

- CRC

Gypsy Danger and the Saltchuck. Every scene from Pacific Rim deserves fanfiction. :)

As an aside, the alternate title to this entry is "Saltchuckles."  

:D

6. "Fylgjur" (Norse Familiar / Grammar Story)

The witch hunters crouched by the large, black boulder in the fen's center, serving as landmark for the hag’s lair.

“Alright, boyo,” said Sir Edwin, eyeing the lonely hut. “We’ve made it. We be twenty yards away from the most notorious witch in all the Nordic shores.”

“We are,” said Sir Baltin.

Edwin turned to look at him.

“Aye?”

“We are twenty yards away. Sir.”

Edwin stared at him. Sir Baltin looked flustered.

“I’m terribly sorry sir,” he said quickly, “I know you have more field experience chasing witches and English isn’t your first language and what not—but you haven’t been using proper grammar this entire trip and it’s—well, it’s really been driving me quite mad!”

“Baltin, of all the times to be argue over—”

Edwin stopped talking, seeing Baltin wince.

“Jus’ keep it quiet,” muttered Edwin. “We’ll soon deal with this harpy and be done with it.” He smiled and picked up his quiver of silver-tipped arrows. “I think she don’t like the darts, eh?”

At that moment, a massive, green spirit emerged from the top of the hovel, raising its bony fingers to the sky. It let loose a shriek sounding from the depths of Hell and momentarily, other green specters began to emerge from the ground for miles around them.

“Sweet Lord!” cried Sir Edwin. “Her fylgja! Ghostly familiars!” He turned to Baltin. “Run, man! Run, to save your soul!”

“Fylgjur!” wailed Baltin. “The plural of fylgia is fylgjur!”

-CRC

245 Words.

5. "Er Gui" (Ghoul Story)

“Er gui? What’s that?”

“Chinese spirit,” muttered Lock. “Means ‘hungry ghost.’”

After a pause, Kate said, “so, it’s a ghoul, basically.”

“Basically.”

The two stalked through the ancient cemetery. Kate thought that the Chinese graves looked like miniature versions of the monolith from 2001: A Space Odyssey, but she knew better than to break the silence. Or possibly sound racist.

Lock froze.

“Hear that?” he said.

“Yeah,” whispered Kate. "Like thick, dried rope tearing."

Lock pointed to a mausoleum in their path, and moved to its front. Kate watched him, and saw his shoulders fall.

“Hey,” he said, holstering his pistol. “Look.”

The iron gate had been knocked off its hinges. Inside the crypt Kate saw a small, rotund creature with pearly white skin crouching in the corner. On the floor around it were bones and shreds of dead flesh.

“Caught in the act,” Lock muttered.

“Like a cat in a dumpster,” Kate agreed.

Lock kicked at the gate.

“Go on!” he shouted. “Get! Take off, buster!”

The spirit garbled at them angrily and ambled out of the chamber. Kate watched it flee on its crooked legs.

“Kinda looks like a blob of mercury,” she said. “You know? The way that it catches moonlight?”

“Hm,” said Lock, sitting down heavily on one of the tombs. He gestured to the dug up bodies around him. “Well, eat up, kiddo. Guess we won’t have to worry about it hoarding in any longer.”

Kate smiled. 

Lock thought her fangs looked beautiful.

- CRC

248 Words.

4. "Demons" (Summoning Story)

“Ever read that book, Lord of the Flies?”

Cory pulled at the crimson sleeves of his cheap robes. “Uh, I think. Eleventh grade? Right about when we got kicked outta high school.”

“Yeah,” said Jeff. “Well, forget everything you learned in that book.”

Cory nodded. “Done.”

“The real Lord of the Flies is Beelzebub, Duke of the Hellish Realms. And we’re gonna summon him.”

“But we’re in your dad’s basement.”

“STEP-dad’s,” said Jeff. He pulled up his hood so it covered his acne-ridden brow and stepped into the center of the chalk pentagram. “Okay, man: start chanting.”

Cory glanced down at the Tome of Eternal Peril they’d bought online before opening it to the bookmarked page. 

“Ad patres,” he read, “cineri gloria suh… sera est…” He looked up. “Jeez, Jeff, I don’t think I’m reading this right.”

But Jeff wasn’t listening. His eyes had become bulbous, and he seemed to be choking on his own saliva. A horrid voice boomed from Jeff’s throat.

“Foooools! You dare summon Beelzebub? Now begins an age of blood and darkness!”

“Oh, wow!” screamed Cory, backing up against a wall. Jeff laughed with such force that the walls shook, dislodging one of his stepfather’s bowling trophies from the wall. It fell on Jeff’s head, knocking him over.

Immediately, the rumbling stopped and the room brightened.

“Unh…” Jeff moaned. Cory crouched by his side.

“Hey man, we tried. Let’s just stick to selling pot to the junior high kids, okay?”

-CRC

247 Words.

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On a side note, the alternate title for this story is, "Okay, Man: Start Chanting."

3. "Cat Sìth" ("King of the Cats" Story)

"King of the Cats"

---

Millie had chittered at the window, jumped in and out of Nevin’s lap, and finally came to lie upon the rug at his feet. The cat groomed herself with luxurious content.

“I swear,” Nevin said, “that cat’s got schizophrenia.”

“Sure,” said his wife, knitting. “Why not cats, too?”

Nevin paused. “You know, actually, that’s an interesting thought. Mental illness is something we attribute to humans.”

He reached down to stroke the white diamond patch of fur on Millie’s chest. She began to purr, but rolled away from him.

“Maybe that’s why cat’s act so weird,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “What do you thi—”

But his wife had gone.

The warm candles lighting the room had burned out long ago. Nevin saw his breath leaving him in white puffs. An inch of grime coated every item in the destroyed cottage.

“Oh, no,” he moaned, bringing his shaking, arthritic hands to his face. “Please…”

He rocked himself back and forth in silent prayer.

Then he heard the rumbling.

He took his hands from his eyes and saw that Millie had jumped back into his lap. Her purr was continuous and content—and her eyes were as distant and cold as ever.

“You all right, dear?” he heard his wife ask.

“Yes,” Nevin murmured.

“Alright then,” said his wife pleasantly.

Nevin realized that he, for the life of him, could not recall her face.

He stroked the cat silently, with the slightest of tremors in his hand.

 

-CRC

248 Words (excluding title.)