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Joe R. Lansdale 67-Word Weird Horror Contest Winners : Day 1
© RevolutionSF contest survivors
April 05, 2010

We got your winners right here for RevolutionSF's Best of Joe R. Lansdale contest. Your challenge: Write a weird horror story in 67 words.

So many of you whomped up good ones that we're spreading the love for five days. One winner per day, with a few excellently weird runners-up.

Day 1 winner:

Eyes smoldered red, vicious jaws opened far too wide, razor teeth anticipated flesh.

The little dog charged.

Suddenly, Top Hat & Cane was moving. His dark cloak swirled, a ball of silver became a streak.

The small animal mewled with pain then a midget lay dead in its place on the sidewalk.

“Goddamn Were-Pugs.”

Top Hat & Cane readjusted his cloak, brushed idly at a lapel. -- Thomas Mueller

Excellently weird runners-up:

* * * * *

Thanks for sitting down to read this. I really appreciate your attention, because that way the earwigs can go right up your leg from the nest I put under your desk. -- Steve Karmazenuk

* * * * *

"Something About Old Habits Dying Hard"

He awoke on the floor.


His nose was still bleeding.


Woozier than last time, he felt alright otherwise. Both nostrils now rushed blood, albeit, at a slower pace. His clothes, drenched – white T-shirt red, blue jeans dark purple –made a squelchy sticking sound every time he moved. As the pool expanded slowly around him, he wondered to himself aloud: “If only I could stop picking.” -- Desmond Reddick

* * * * *

"Win-Win Situation"

"So she always goes to this same hotel to meet him?"

"Yeah, afterward she cuts through an alley to get to her car. Do your thing, and that bitch is out of my life."

I had to smile. This was the beautiful thing about being a hitman. And a vampire. I solve people's problems, and in return I have food practically served to me. Win-win, baby. -- Brian Dingman

* * * * *

She is holding back tears when the crash sounds. In the kitchen the tank is shattered with lone goldfish flailing on tile floor. Her son stands, wet arm dripping. Bending down and reaching, she says, Again? Standing, she turns her black eyes to the boy. With her tongue she nudges the fish until its body is firmly between the teeth. She bites down. Her boy child screams. -- Joe Leonard

* * * * *

Mother's Day

Hot summer night,
the house dark and quiet,
rage burning inside my head

Kill Mom, kill her dead

Creep in her door
Bash her in the head
Kill Mom, kill her dead

The stairs be creaking,
At the top, I'll be freaking

Kill Mom, kill her dead

Open her door, she'll be sleeping

On the stairs, a shadow creeping
Something coming at my head

Mom, is that -- -- Gary Raisor

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