A Halloween Story (18+)


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It all started so normally on that cold, dreary and dark night. The 31st of October: commonly known as ‘Halloween’. I was sat in my room when I gradually started to hear the laughs and clapper of feet storm through the night air – the sort of sound that of which could only be generated by excitable little children as they engaged in a traditional spot of trick or treat out upon the street. I quickly realised that I better supply the little ghouls with some treats in case they come a-knocking on my door. Checking my sweet collection, I was disappointed to see that we were all out; there were absolutely no sugary treats or tasters to be found in the depths of the cobweb-smothered cupboard. What else will the kids want? What else will they consume? What else will they take swiftly and walk off, leaving me alone in peace?

Likes. It was simple. I had fucking loads of the fuckers; hundreds from friends and hundreds from strangers, all sitting there in the attic collecting dust. I quickly brushed them off and collected them into a sturdy little fruit basket. I perched them on the doorstep and went back to my computer to monitor the outside world. Time to relax, I thought. If only I had known the trouble I had let myself in for…

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There I stood Aghast. Oh merciful creator! Spare me from these horrific demons of the night! Trouble and strife had befallen me on this cold night; the excitable kids devoured the likes, grew accustomed to the taste and swiftly turned into evil wretches. I gave them as much as possible but they just wouldn’t stop once they had tasted that heavenly flesh. The basket was soon empty. The fruits of life had been consumed. They quickly began banging on the windows and doors, moaning and groaning for more likes and gratification. They’re gonna break in! They’re addicted! They want blood! What had I done…

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I peaked out from the upstairs window and, low and behold, it was a sight to make the lord weep. The innocent children had turned into ghastly demons. All of them looked the same; they were a collective spawn of terror here to drink the blood that seeped from this world. They all moved the same, taking pictures of food, comparing their latest edition of iPhone, listening to the same music, carrying protein shakes, filming 7 second videos, taking 45 degree selfies, only communicating via Whatsapp, watching reality TV shows, creating profiles on every conceivable website, tweeting celebrities, stamping quotes on their bodies, filming the neighbourhood cats, throwing #s everywhere.. But all of that wasn’t enough! The zombies wanted more. More likes! More updates on their phones! More gratification! More identity! 

They flooded in, storming through the front door like a swarm of violent mosquitoes. Within a minute every piece of food in the kitchen had been snapped and uploaded to Instagram; after two minutes a total of 17,000 videos of them in my house had been uploaded to Vine; after three minutes there were 10 fan pages of my bathroom that had 50,000 likes between them. Soon every DVD had been replaced with a Breaking Bad series. Every piece of clothing had been ripped and converted to some form of fancy dress. And all those likes I had in the attic? Utterly devoured in an orgy of mass consumption.

Stood completely aghast, I could see that the zombie kids were united as one. But they were still hungry and weren’t going to stop until every single thing in this world was consumed.

Tears of fear in my eyes, I ran to the garden and watch the house implode on itself.

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