Coffin Hop Horror Contest (and cool prizes)

I ♥ Halloween. Cold and dark and spooky, the night of the dead is my favorite holiday, which is why the Coffin Hop Horror Web Tour is the perfect opportunity to celebrate it!

I’m holding a writing contest to test my fellow 96 hopping horror authors bloggers and friendly followers–I always ask for kids to sing when they trick or treat at my door, so here it goes…


    • Scare me in 100 words or less! Fright me to no end with unique, non-rape/animal abuse/ torture horror in the comment section.
    • Subscribe by email to my blog
    • Tweet about the contest using @annecmichaud (Non-twitteroons can still participate, of course)
    • Contest starts on the 24th of October and ends on Halloween at midnight, winners will be announced the following week.
    • Have a spooky good time:)

Aleister is very sensitive about his vitamin B12 intakes


  • 1- A special vampire edition skeleton, handmade by moi
  • 2- A critique of 5k
  • 3- An interview or guest post on my blog

The first place winner gets to choose first, then the second and third, last. I wish you good luck and may the haunting Muse be with you!

About Anne Michaud

Author of Dark Tendency View all posts by Anne Michaud

46 responses to “Coffin Hop Horror Contest (and cool prizes)

  • James Everington

    Cool idea…. Here’s mine:


    Eleanor could almost scream with frustration as she led the investigators round her house. They didn’t believe in the stories of the ghost obviously, despite the history of violence and… murder.

    Eleanor shuddered, and said to them that here was where it happened. But they didn’t listen to a word she said! Here! she said and they barely even glanced in her direction.

    Eleanor did scream as they turned to go. She screamed and the last of the investigators turned back with a frown… But then he shrugged, and shut the door, leaving Eleanor alone in the haunted house.

  • Stephanie Diaz (@StephanieEDiaz)

    Love this idea. Let’s give this a try. 🙂


    I can’t do it. I can’t shoot her.

    “Clementine.” Sam snarls, striding at us from the trees, hitching his gun up to his eye.

    “She needs help!” I cry.

    “You can’t do anything for her.”

    I stare at her knobby fingers as they stretch and grasp my ankle. Her eyes are bloodshot when she lifts them to me. Her teeth are black and sharp, inching toward my leg—

    Sam’s shot goes off as I stumble backward, horrified. The Unstable crumples in the grass.

    “H—help me.” Another’s coming out of the trees, unsteady on his feet. Blood splatters from his mouth with every breath.

  • Tim Ward

    Servant of Death

    Andrew woke just in time to catch the branch before he spilled over the side.
    A growl below told him he should have kept running. He pulled closer to the branch and closed his eyes, praying the sound came from a wolf, a bear, anything else than what he feared.
    “Andrew.” The whisper scratched through its voice box like sucked from the grave.
    Clawing at the base of the tree, Jared’s upward stare dropped him to a fingertip grip. His arch exposed the jagged cavern where the skeleton had ripped out his heart.

  • Leonard White (@leonard_white)

    Words Can Hurt You

    Josh pressed against the wall; breathing in ragged gasps.

    Carrie hadn’t believed that the book was real. She had made fun of them before she had read the spell. She had been smiling when her eyes started to bleed. She had screamed when the first claw had poked out of her. She had only gurgled when the hands had spread her ribs open from the inside.

    Josh had counted screams. They were playing hide and seek with a monster and there were only two of them left. Another scream from the next room and then a voice growled, “One Left.”

  • Ren Warom


    I’m standing here. And the rain falls. Gathers in puddles huge enough to drown a house. Swallow it whole. My hair, my clothes, plastered down like they’re glued to me. There’s a hollow ring as the downpour clatters across the top of a corrugated roof. Sounds like gunfire. Like the end of the world.

    Lights pierce the shroud of rainfall. They watch me, giant yellow eyes. I hear tyres on gravel, crunching loud as the shatter of bones, and we’re illuminated. The door flies open, Gina stumbles out, mouth wide as a puddle. She runs to me, falls to her knees, arms out. And I hear myself shouting.

    ‘I tried to make her look right. I tried to fix her. But she wouldn’t stick together.’

  • Colin F.Barnes

    Great Idea Anne,

    Here is my entry: Dust

    It smells like ammonia. Or fungus. I can’t decide which. It’s surprisingly dry and runs through my fingers like flour. I taste it and it’s surprisingly sweet. I want to eat more, absorb the energy, that crackling otherworldliness that inhabits it.

    Father says it’s poisonous and that it could kill me if I don’t stop. But I don’t care; I just want to be close again. It’s all that is left. I smear it across my face and lips, and the reddish brown grit stains my nightdress.

    I look into the open coffin and scoop out more of my mother.

  • Jason Darrick

    Great contest idea, and so far some wonderfully entertaining pieces. Mine’s a bit different, I hope everyone enjoys “Carry On”

    …the hell is that smell?! Not like I’d expected the restroom to effervesce of potpourri, but this was beyond even the worst I’d encountered. I looked around my decrepit surroundings until my eyes caught sight of a brownish liquid slowly pooling beneath the stall door. I knocked on the door, relieved there’d been no answer, but the relief vanished as the door swung open. Flies buzzed around the wound, a single shot from the Magnum in his left hand. His vacant eyes stared at me, the bloodstains on his shirt blotted out all words except for “Carri on”.

  • Jessica McHugh (@theJessMcHugh)

    Y is for Yacht

    The alphabet mural on my wall came alive at night. I knew it was in my mind, but that didn’t stop the man on a Y-shaped yacht from winking at me. For years, he winked, he smiled, he waved me away from sleep and submerged me fear of his escape. When I was grown and my childhood things tucked away, he remained in my mind, winking. During Thanksgiving when I was 25, I ducked into my old room to steal a glimpse of childhood. I expected a wink as always, but instead, there was only a Y-shaped boat, unmanned.

  • Milo James Fowler

    Cool contest concept, cool competition. How about a creepy fibonacci sequence poem?

    “Clowns Don’t Really Smile”

    Our slack jaws
    And wait for you to
    Accidentally make eye contact…

  • Joanna Parypinski

    I love writing prompts like this! Doing something similar for my Coffin Hop contest 🙂 Here we go! Exactly 100 words.


    Jeremy’s mom said no trick-or-treating this year; he was a bulging 300 pounds. He snuck out, dressed as jack-o-lantern, and knocked on the door of the witch’s house.

    He wasn’t afraid.

    A gray-haired hag came out and said, “Be careful. It’s almost midnight, and after Halloween, pumpkins begin to rot.”

    His load of candy grew; at last, he took it home to eat. After twenty pieces, his insides lurched; something white wriggled out from a chocolate bar; he vomited the writhing maggots from his rotting stomach.

    The witch’s cackle echoed in his ears.

    That was Jeremy’s last year of trick-or-treating.

  • Anthony J. Rapino (@AnthonyJRapino)

    Okay, you were right. I *could* do it! 🙂 Hope you enjoy.

    Things Unseen

    The ripping, tearing, searing starts again. Ever since—what? Nothing feels right anymore. I try to orient myself in that ocean of fire. My cabin; I’m in my cabin. So it’s the yearly deer hunt. But then, where is Dad?

    We were out in the woods, in the tree-stand. And—the pain rises back up like a surfacing whale. My mind scrambles. I forget again. Where am I? And what is that in the room with me? Something is in here with me. Something—not right. Something I don’t want to remember. Don’t let me remember. Please, don’t let me.

  • Phil Ambler @phlambler

    Happy to have stumbled upon this site and the wonderful offerings from everyone in the contest. Here’s my entry, hope it’s to your liking.


    She had learnt the trick as a child, using strips of newspaper to form a papier-mâché crust for her dolls. She’d lived a lot since then. This time she had flayed a sow and the strips of mucal coated skin had lain there soaking for days as she prepared the host.

    The child was carved from an ancient yew, its hollowed chest filled with a shrivelled crabapple. The strips of flesh clung eagerly to the wood as if the child were desperate to grasp at life.

    She suckled the infant to her breast waiting for the demon to ascend.

  • Hickesy (@Hickesy)

    Oh, who calls me at this hour? What little sleep I have these days, wrenched from my feeble grasp! My old bones crack as I swing my feet into my slippers, the graceful sweep of youth a taunting memory. The phone shrieks its harsh, insistent summons. “Ok, I’m coming!” I cry, feeling the midwinter night nip at my thin ankles. Alone in the house, my footsteps echo, as though someone walks with me, just behind my shoulder. Cold plastic against my ear. A voice like rustling leaves. “Don’t you know you’re dead,” it whispers. “You died in your sleep.”

  • Kyla (@Kyla_Holt)

    Why yes I used EXACTLY 100 words. Why are you giving me *that* look? I’m a wordy woman! *dramatic sigh* Now, no judging me on this missy…well, this is a contest, so guess you *do* have to “judge”. Whatever. Fine. Here it is:

    She lay in the cover of darkness, knees drawn tight, tall blades of grass swaying above. She focused on being invisible, curled tighter and controlled the shivers.

    Just a dream. Just a dre—

    Images of the woman, blood oozing down her pale, lifeless neck, interrupted her plea. She whimpered, gagged, squeezed harder. She’d never seen anything more horrific. She shook her head, attempting to clear it.

    A couple laughed as a sharp metallic scent rode the brisk autumn breeze; she shuddered in pain as twin pricks pierced her lower lip. No, not again! But she was already on the hunt…

    Oh…and “boo”

  • laurimartin

    There’s a house like any other house, except for the bear skull hanging above the front door, and the knocker resembling a giant skinned knuckle.

    On Halloween we’d skip this house, but one year a pack of us ran to the door. Buck, bolstered by his Superman costume, rang the bell. It sounded like a hornet swarm. I froze. The others ran off.

    She’s clever, Mrs. Shyer. Made a wreath out of me. Used paint and shoe polish so my bones look fake. I hang outside year-round now. Sometimes at Christmas she puts a red bell between my teeth.

    (Inspired by Autumn Shelley’s coffin hop prize on her Conspiracy Cafe blog.)

  • Rachelle Reese

    She heard the noise first. Wood-crunching, chattering. Some nights it went on all night long. She was actually relieved when she saw it perched on the bookshelf…a mouse. She bought a live trap and baited it with bread. Days went by. The bread grew stale in the trap.
    So mice don’t like bread.
    She baited the trap with kibble. Her dog put on the sad eyes and whined. “It’s only one piece,” she said. “There’s plenty more.”
    The next day, the kibble was gone. More chewing. The mouse stood on the bookshelf, blood dripping from its fangs.

  • thejesuscodpiece

    Anne stood in the middle of the disheveled room. Clothes, some makeup, even a few pillows, lay on the carpet. Dust swirled through the sun rays, aggravated by the recent activity in the room.

    She put her hands on her hips and sighed.

    Then, a voice from the bathroom: “Is everything all right?”

    “No.” she said. “I can’t find my damn phone.”

  • Kelda

    Here’s my entry.

    ‘The plum is full of alien worms. You bite it. They wriggle to your slimy brain. You like it.’

    Thanks for the competition. I’m glad I don’t have to judge.

  • Lydia Peever

    Glinting moonlight that fell across the hard packed dirt road was all she had.
    For the first time today she felt unprepared. Maybe a little foolish. The house, the size; it took her breath away.
    Every window was dark and from here, half way from the tree line, she could barely discern a doorway.
    Sarah’s breath caught, suddenly, she felt watched. Jerking to a stop mid-step, she listened and scanned the clearing. Rodents and insects paused along with her. Silence gave in to the whisper of the slightest breeze and nothing more.

  • Peter Newman

    Chop, chop, chop, goes the knife, slicing the carrots into neat little circles.

    In the other room, the twins fight, curses and the sound of ornaments breaking drift through. She grits her teeth, focuses on the cooking.

    The baby will wake soon to suck the life from her. The next one, still wrapped in her flesh is already at work.

    Her beauty is scarred with years of broken sleep, eyes stress-lined and empty.

    Soon he’ll be home with his own demands. She’d take her own life but they stole it from her years ago.

    Chop, chop, chop goes the knife.

  • Angela Addams

    I’ve got something scary for you…

    You open your closet to find…everything you that was once black is now…gasp…pink!!! AHHHHHHHH!!!!

    Well, I know that would be my nightmare! lol

  • Fish (@KrazieFish)


    One of my few remaining memories is the night the shadows took my sister. They formed on the wall between the spots of silver moonlight as we watched in helpless terror. Jenny tried to scream as an incorporeal arm reached into her mouth and stole her breath. I watched her die, thrashing and clutching her throat. The shadows did not take me, they said I was too young, and for years I have waited.

    Tonight those shadow patterns are forming in the silver moonlight, and I know they have returned. I take a deep breath, it will be my last.

  • Marianne Su

    I’m in.

    Blood dripped from her hands as she held them out towards me. Her eyes pleaded with me from behind the haze of tears. She spoke silent words, urgent and frustrated. I couldn’t hear her, didn’t know what she wanted. Her long robe, stained with red, drifted around her feet, bare and suspended above the floor. I didn’t know her, couldn’t help her but she kept coming back. I shouted at her to go away. The shadow of sadness grew in her eyes as she turned and disappeared through the wall, leaving a smear of red across the white paint.

  • Gareth

    Im in, heres a bit of creep for you:
    The wolf howl frightened Misha so she ran for home from her midnight stroll. The only dilemma was whether to take the quicker route through the graveyard or the longer lope through the trees but the wolf left her with no real choice.

    Charging headlong through the mist she didn’t see the open grave until the last second which she stumbled to avoid but hit her head on a tombstone and toppled within unconscious. Neither did she start to feel the rain as a storm broke overhead but she awoke unable to move as the grave started to fill.

  • T. James

    Hi Anne, nice idea… here’s my attempt:

    And Then There Was Nothing

    Jenna came to, waiting before daring to open her eyes. She tried, but neither her eyes nor eyelids moved. She attempted to rise, but there was nothing: no sensation from her body. She screamed: Silence! What had the bastard done?

    They’d rowed last night; Simon had found her letters from Michael. He had been insanely calm,
    “I’ll take from you what you care for most.”

    She’d thought Simon meant to kill Michael; before he knocked her out.

    Simon was a neurosurgeon, and now she lay supine, eyes bandaged, helpless; a writer unable to communicate with the world outside her head.

  • Jan


    A blade blazons over me. A High Priest utters indecipherable prayers to the gods. I watch a bird soar and believe it is me.

    A pain sears my chest followed by ripping. I am laid open. Hands plunge into the cavity that is me. I feel the searching fingers grip, tug and wrench.

    In a moment I watch my heart beat in his hands. It is held aloft and offered to the gods. My blood trails like tears down his arms then I am discarded with a thud.

  • Erin Cole (@erincolewrites)

    A great Halloween contest, Anne. Here is my entry:

    The Man with Blue in His Beard

    It grew overnight, a black lotus. I cut the hearty stem, rough from the granules of gloom and the light of a deformed moon. It floated like a dream on my pillow.

    At the paling of an October dawn, his footsteps clapped, a thundering wicked dance in my heart—hypnotist of foreseeable doom.

    The black lotus crumbled from the force of his pitch at my feet. Thorn slashed skin, sickly taunting me with nightmare.

    “Where did you find this?” he bellowed.

    My suspicions confirmed. He drew a long blade. I thought I glimpsed the screams of the late Mrs.

  • Lisa Forget

    Deadly Playmate

    The instant the floorboard creaked I knew Eva had entered the room. There was no mistaking her familiar wheeze and the rustle of mother’s dress swishing along the floor. She’d been wearing it the day she fell and smashed her skull on the tiled floor.

    “Sarah.” Eva’s voice echoed. “Don’t I look pretty?”

    I lay in bed holding my breath, squeezing my lids shut, the quilt covering my face. She wanted me to look into her lifeless eyes. Lonely and longing for company, she’d come to play. Yet, I knew the truth.

    Eva had come to scare me to death.

  • Michael Montoure

    I’m going to cheat and re-use something i already had on my blog, hope you don’t mind:

    It took me weeks of searching, but I finally found the girl from the “MISSING” posters, the girl with the sky blue eyes and the blond hair as soft as sunlight, and rescued her from her kidnappers. “My father has money,” she tells me, “he’d make you rich if you’ll just take me home,” but I just know someday, she’ll learn to like it here. I read the posters very carefully, and they just said she was missing — they never said I had to give her back.

    Thanks for the contest! If I win, I’m going to have a hell of a time deciding which prize I want. Check out my site for my Coffin Hop giveaway, if you like. Happy Halloween!

  • Issy Flamel (@IssyFlamel)

    My throat is cracked from lack of water, and joints ache with stiffness. Darkness is total; hear my favourite song playing in the background. ‘Angels’ by Robbie. Corny I know, but what’s a girl to do? I’ve never come out of a coma before, guess this is usual readjustment routine. My lips are soft with fresh lipstick. I bet mom insisted they make me look my best for waking. I reach to ring for a nurse but my elbow clunks against solid wood. The conveyor shudders into life. Then the lick of the flames, and the screams that won’t come…

  • Stant Litore

    She’d been only a girl, that night. A scream had wakened her. Bolting upright, saw her mother’s torso disappearing through the flap of the tent; something had her feet, was dragging her out. Her mother clutched, clawing at the rug, her fingers desperate. For one moment, Devora’s eyes and her mother’s met. She saw the whites around her mother’s eyes. Then she was gone; the rug slid out behind her. The child trembled, staring at the tent flap as her mother’s screams broke the night, terrible screams. The sound of teeth tearing flesh. Screams that went on and on.

    Stant Litore

    Wonderful contest!

  • A. F. Stewart

    A story from my book Once Upon a Dark and Eerie…

    Do Not Bother Me If You Are Perky

    Elly was perky, bubbly and lived to brighten the day of total strangers.
    Of course, she rarely asked those strangers if they wanted their day brightened, or if they liked people with perky, bubbly personalities. I know she didn’t ask me.
    Who am I? I’m something from your nightmares, living among you in human form. Elly tried to make friends with me.
    That was her last mistake.
    I hate perky. I hate bubbly. I hate all things bright and cheery with a passion. However, I do find them very, very tasty.
    And Elly was delicious…

  • Jan

    Anne you forced me into it…


    “Tina.”. I stir from the depths of sleep. Loudly in my ear. “TINA.” I’m instantly awake. It’s two forty am.Who called me? My outstretched arm confirms Jamie’s away. Spain.
    My eyes adjust to bedroom shapes of dresser, wardrobes, chair but, who sits in the chair? I relax against the pillows, a bundle of clothes. But no! I cleared them. I look back. Vacant.
    I’m aware something is close, very close. I gag at its sulpherous stench. Clutch a sheet to me. Turn slowly. A half man leans into me. “We have your name, Valentina.”

  • Berit

    This is such a fun and charming contest, Anne! Have to post something to it. 🙂

    The Open Door

    She longs for a child, but there’s only the cat and her. In the evening she keeps the front door ajar so the feline can go in and out as he likes. She turns the lights off so the open door is less visible from outside. One night a small shadow slips into the night-filled hallway, patters across the floor. “Come kitty,” she says. It brushes against the back of the sofa and climbs up behind her. “Come to mommy, kitty.” Small, cold hands hug her neck, filling her nose and throat with the stench of the grave. “Ma-ma!”

  • misty

    My body, so waterlogged that it is like bread dipped in milk.
    The voice is so close, I ache to turn my head.
    “You’re a Slip, that’s what. Slipped right through the crack. Right through their fingers.” The voice settles above me, on the rock that is holding me to the beach. With just one more push of the tide, my body will flap up and I will be able to see the owner of the voice. I pray for that.
    “And that’s what they get.” The voice goes on. “They are Forgetters who end up with Slips and don’t even know they have them, because they are Forgetters. You, my darling, are the fortunate disaster. You are a Slip in the hands of one who never forgets.”
    One hard, salty wave gets under my shoulder and shoves me upward. Right before I hit the rock, I get a good look at what is there.
    It is nothing like an angel.

    ~From Mercy, A Gargoyle Story

    Hope you’re shivery!

  • Julie Jansen

    Here you go, Anne! Have a wonderfully spooky Halloween!

    My sister’s bed rose off the floor. Time I got that poltergeist good. No more picking on my kid sister, no matter how bratty she was. And no transference. My spirit bubble was MY spirit bubble. I gripped the can of spray-foam insulation. The poltergeist ripped the blanket away and slid my sister toward a portal in the ceiling. I pulled her arm, aimed the foam insulation, pulled the trigger, shot the poltergeist dead center in its mouth. It swelled and hardened into a lumpy yellow brainy mass on the ceiling that resembles a pumpkin-carved Medusa-Elvis.


  • Tymothy Longoria

    In the spirit of Burton a la Nightmare Before Christmas, here is one of my short tales.

    Billy’s Toy

    After a long day at the office, Mother was tired. But she stood in the kitchen, baking and cooking a hot meal for her son, Billy.
    “Billy!” she yelled out.
    Billy was in his room playing with his favorite toy.
    “Yes, mother?”
    “Dinner, Billy,” she began. “Wash up-”
    Billy entered the kitchen wearing the toy.
    “No, Billy. You march right back to your room and put that thing away. It’s filthy!”
    Billy frowned and hugged the toy. “But her skin is so warrmmm.”

  • glitterlady

    I never believed in the ghosts of hallows eve until I saw his face. The mouth sewn shut and half his face hidden by a malevolent mask had me stepping back. As I looked into his vivid blue-ocean eyes I would’ve thought him a handsome young man until he smiled in the fog. His lips strained against the thick thread meshed over his mouth and buds of blood surfaced from the movement.

    “Moonlight will give you to me.”

    He spoke inside my mind like an echoing cave; the words dripping in my ears.

    Stone still; this was my last Halloween.



    omg this is soooo fun! lol!

    Monster Mash (99 words)

    Janie swiped the pulpy ooze from her brow and cackled like a crazy woman. For that’s what she was, crazy. She loved to plunge her knife in and out, repeatedly thrusting it ever deeper into such tender and giving flesh.

    “Who’s your momma!” she howled, then stabbed out a large chunk of flesh that made a pleasant sucking sound as she loosed it. She was born to butchery and grunted her satisfaction at the gaping hole she’d made. Janie tossed the flesh onto the floor where it landed with a satisfying squilch. “This pumpkin carving contest is SO mine!”

    lol, thanks Anne, great fun!!! 🙂

  • Y.M. Schwartz

    Anne, so much fun! Thank you!
    (100 Words)

    I’m Hungry

    “Where am I,” I wondered as I meandered through a corridor, “I think I’m home? Sergio? Is that you?” Like a dream, I couldn’t move fast enough; one thing was different though—the smell.
    I rounded the corner, and heard a drip, drip, and a light push through the air; my ears felt the movement.
    My stomach grumbled again as I passed through velvet curtains; there was Sergio, hanging upside down, “I found you!” That’s when I realized I had a scalpel in my hand. My stomach rumbled again and I knew then why I searched for Sergio….

  • David

    Great idea. Here’s my horrifying contribution:

    (100 words)

    Target. Google. Monsanto. Wal-Mart Stores. Exxon Mobil. Fannie Mae. Berkshire Hathaway. Bank of America Corp. Hewlett-Packard. J.P. Morgan Chase & Co. Valero Energy. Cardinal Health. Verizon Communications. Citigroup. Apple. PepsiCo. Kraft Foods. Best Buy. General Electric. Pfizer. Goldman Sachs Group. Merck. Chevron. Lockheed Martin. Dow Chemical. American Express. Tyson Foods. Phillip Morris International. DuPont. News Corp. UnitedHealth Group. Ford Motor. Costco Wholesale. Freddie Mac. Procter & Gamble. Marathon Oil. American International Group. Medco Health Solutions. Microsoft. Sysco. Sunoco. Morgan Stanley. Northrop Grumman. Johnson Controls. Humana. General Dynamics. Aetna. Coca-Cola. Abbott Laboratories. Chrysler Group. INTL FCStone. WellPoint. Archer Daniels Midland. McKesson.

  • Jan

    It’s been…emotional Anne…


    On the thirteenth stroke of midnight on ‘All Hallows ‘Een the world stops. Evil souls roam amongst the living. They pass through us and take our names. We shiver in fear.

    They fall into our sleeping bodies, invade our dreams, show their hideous faces. We’d scream but they have gagged us in sheets, our limbs are useless, we cannot outrun them. They swallow us whole and we are digested in hell over and over where our eyes are skewered out with hot pokers, skin flayed, bones smashed by demons.

    The second hand of the clock moves and the world begins to spin…

  • Natalie Westgate

    Awww I missed the competition but what a great idea 😀 Looks like some great entries too!

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