One Perfect Sentence - The Ominous October Challenge

[Hannah Faoileán]

October: approaching Halloween or Samhain, so for this ominous challenge, I am giving you a picture prompt (just a wee photo I took in the woods!) You may interpret this picture in any way you wish as long as it is One Perfect Sentence!

For the photo, I can't upload it here, so please visit Cafe Life then return with your inspired sentence!

One Perfect Sentence - The Ominous October Challenge!

The rules are simple:

• Each entry must be ONE sentence only, as defined by the basic rules of English grammar. We will notice if you squeeze unrelated clauses together and pretend it's a sentence, so please don't do it. Your entry will be disqualified and removed.

• Don’t comment on other people's entries – this makes the thread far less readable. If you’d like to make a comment – or if you have a question – then please do so in Café Life, using the “One Perfect Sentence” prefix. I will keep checking the thread to answer any questions. If you have a question you don't want others to read, please private message me directly.

• You can make as many entries as you want to, but only your entry with the greatest number of votes will win a place (and litbits).

• IMPORTANT: You MUST make your entry anonymous by ticking the “Posting as Anonymous?” box. Entries that don’t do this will be removed.

Voting will open later this month.

Good luck and get writing!

 

[E G Logan]

I'm having difficulty getting to see your pic.

I get an 'Oops, problems' message, with You do not have permission to view this page or perform this action.

 

[Hannah Faoileán]

Darn it! I'll try to figure out what's wrong.

 

[Anonymous]

It wasn't there yesterday, this strange new fungus, bulging out of the trunk of the ancient yew, and shaped like a human skull, the jaw hideously agape as if screaming for help that never came.

 

[Anonymous]

That bloody rhyme keeps repeating in my head, and even though it's from a children's book, a Noddy book, FFS, it's right – because it isn't very good in the dark, dark wood...

 

[Anonymous]

The discovery of poor Yirock’s scull in a teer in a parallel dimension caused Homlet and Harotio to ponder the transience of death and eventuality of life.

 

[Anonymous]

"I don't feel good either," said the man I cursed as his distorted face emerged from the tree.

 

[Anonymous]

Worst hangover ever, with all my limbs feeling heavy and wooden, my chest painfully constricted and my throat feeling as if I'm being slowly being strangled...

 

[Anonymous]

He had waited a thousand years to be set free from this tree-tomb with a kiss from his true love who had just causally glanced at him as she passed by.

 

[Anonymous]

Xiron pressed his face forward into the veil, wondering if this world would save his people from their dusty planet and as he breathed fresh clean air, he grinned.

 

[Anonymous]

"Be brave, be bold, and be a bastard about it," the gnarled face embedded in the ancient twisted tree said to me, weaving it's spell as it spoke.

 

[Anonymous]

When first she laid the curse on me, I could have sworn she said seven years, but that was back in October 1325, and I'm still waiting for a pure-hearted maiden to place her hand on the tree bark and set me free.

 

[Anonymous]

As the light faded and the shadows between the trees lengthened, our imaginings of what might lurk there in the darkness were surely worse than anything possible – or were they?

 

[Anonymous]

Nature was fighting back: wrapping itself around flesh with a greed humans thought only they possessed.

 

[Anonymous]

"Don't linger at the Tree of the Skull, else your soul will be consumed and your bones rattle as they hang from its branches."

 

[Anonymous]

The skull's eyes shone red, like the blood pouring from my side, as its jaw opened and a horrifying, shrill voice escaped: "Run!".

 

[Anonymous]

This was the tree - the one where they met, where they shared their first kiss, where he proposed, where they had their huge blowouts - and where she spilled his blood, burying his betraying body in a shallow grave.

 

[Anonymous]

I shall call it 'The Scream', thought Edvard Munch as he stared at the face in the tree, his fingers itching to hold his most beloved paintbrush.