MUCH shorter scarier story

[freesnarforever]

The Curse of The Clown Guillotine.
Written by Justin T. Hunt.

Day One.
'The legend goes that a retired clown used to work at GrinBookPublishers company taking care of every element of any job. No-one understood why he did it or how he always managed to get things right all the time. But one day, one of the machines broke, the guillotine for chopping up the papers and that. He tried to fix it, but he had been in the wrong area to do so. Only one man was present and saw the death. After the funeral, the man who saw the death later disappeared from the face of the earth, but rumour had it that he had been killed because he did something without making sure he was supposed to. Ever since then, everyone made sure they did all things right by going to the boss first... "That's the story they told ME, anyway. But I'm sure you'll be fine Charles. Now, go along and collect up the rubbish bins, ok?"

Charles had been listening to a co-worker yakking on about the legendary mystery that had surrounded the book publishing business for years. Everyone in town knew about it, but no-one was sure why the place was still going. Probably because it was a horror publishing place and a horror mystery would attract customers more. Charles had started work at the place only a few months ago, and he had not once come across anything creepy. But that was only because he had listened to his boss and did what was smart, asked what he was supposed to do next.

That afternoon was a busy one, no doubt. He had to finish work and then go straight to a mate's b'day party, and then get things ready at home for his mum's return home after her second honeymoon with her new husband. He was kept very busy for an only child. Dragging his eighteen-year-old body around with the rubbish bins he had, Charles noticed a machine that was switched on for no reason with no one manning it or looking like they would use it any time soon. Feeling that it would be stupid NOT to turn it off, Charles searched the machine for the switch, found it then turned it off without another thought.
Nobody saw him do it, and the machine hardly could talk for itself.
He finished the day not even one percent guilty about the 'crime' he had done, and then found himself asleep at home before he even realised the day had finished.

Day Two.
It was Charles' day off for Wednesday, as was always the case.
He had organised with a few of his friends to go out and see a new movie in town, on that would no doubt be scary and blood-thirsty.
Once he had finished making himself breakfast and eating it like it was his last, Charles set about making breakfast for his mum and his new dad. They had both ordered freshly cut bread with various amounts of vegetables and only one slice of ham on it.
This was Charles normal meal to make for them every morning, and he always made it with two cups of Earl Grey Tea. He never, not once, asked when they wanted him to make it or how, he just always knew.
He had been cutting the bread into slices with his New Dad's sharpest knife when one of the five cats they had made the mistake of putting her fore-paws on his legs and digging in sharply.
Charles yelped in pain and accidentally cut his finger. But he had barely felt it.
The force of the knife at the time would have been enough to cut his finger completely off, but when he looked at it in surprise, there wasn't even a mark.

And in the publishing archives, an old, never used machine that had only been turned on by accident once that day and then turned off without permission lost one of its screw-in nails. Had anyone been there to see it where it fell, they would have seen something very strange: The nail was bleeding like mad.

Thinking nothing of it, Charles finished off making breakfast for his parents and then went on his way into town.
While he was at the movies with his friends, he had been drinking a bit and once the movie had finished he went to the toilet. While he was on the toilet, he thought, just for a moment, that he could hear gears crunching from some-where nearby. There were no machines in the toilet, so what was it?

Whilst in the publishing archives, a worker noticed yellow fluid gushing out of the old machine that smelt just like urine, upon checking the machine, he found popcorn wedged inside of it. He asked the boss what to do and then, from the boss' orders, got rid of the mess carefully.
Charles drove back home, feeling happy and excited, knowing it would soon be time for more paid work at the publishing factory.
That night, after Charles had gone to bed, everyone had been woken up by a strange grinding noise coming from Charles' room. What was bizarre was the fact that, upon checking his room, they found him still asleep with a cat on his stomach.

That night in the publishing archives, a man that had turned the machine on from the boss' orders to get rid of any remaining popcorn from earlier was surprised to find that the machine seemed to be making no grinding noises at all. But he just shrugged this off as peculiar and then closed up the archives for the night. The blood from the nail was now completely covered with ants and, if they could talk, they would have commented on the fact that the machine's 'blood' tasted rather like a human's.

Day Three.
Charles had made sure, the day before, that his work clothes (pure black in colour) were washed and ready for this afternoon's shift. He had another driving lesson today with an experienced teacher. He didn't like learning to drive in a manual car because it involved too much hand and foot work.
But when the time came for the lessons, it was almost as if he had remembered everything there could possibly be important about the driving like a robot. In fact, one would go so far as to say he was TOO perfect for only his third lesson of that week. He had even mastered the reverse park perfectly, something which he had never gotten right in both Manual or Auto cars.
The teacher was excited and said he was ready for his first test for his Next 'P' licence and wanted to organise one as soon as possible.
By the time he arrived back home, it was half an hour before he had to go to work. He quickly got into his work clothes and walked down to the publishers, ready for another shift.

The guillotine for cutting paper suddenly looked too much like a clown and appeared to smile wickedly. The old machine in the archives suddenly grew a human finger in an area where no-one could see it.
"Hey Charles, what's up with your finger? Trying to pretend you're a robot today?"
Charles had been surprised by the remark from his boss when he said hello and then saw the same finger he had thought he cut the other day. It was now looking like it was part of a machine. He tried to pull it off, but that didn't seem to do anything.
When he was out in the main electronic area, he noticed the guillotine was dressed to look like an evil clown and smiled.
"Trying to scare me again with that old legend, eh Frank?" he commented to a co-worker.
"You like it? You know, the best part is the fact that the teeth and everything else do not get in the way of us cutting the paper up. I call him Chewy the Clown. Great huh?"
"Very creepy, Frank." Charles walked away smiling.
"Hey, we ARE working in a horror publishing factory, you know."
Charles started working on the work tickets, still confused about what had happened to his finger. He was sure he hadn't done anything to it.
He worked hard that day until five in the afternoon and then started shutting up the place. That was when he came across the machine in the old archives again.
_________________________
The end coming soon. this one is heaps shorter than the others I've popped up.

[freesnarforever]

As he walked towards it, the guillotine's clown eyes appeared to follow him and become angrier. But no-one was there to see it happen.
Charles noticed the ants still sucking up the blood from two days back and bent down to inspect it.
He noticed the nail that had come out and picked it up, trying to figure out why it was covered in blood. He popped it under some water and put it back on the machine where it belonged and then noticed THE FINGER.
The finger was small and wiggling, like the machine was keeping it alive. Charles felt like being sick.
Without asking any-one for help or what he should do, Charles started to try and pull the finger out. He even got a knife he found and tried to cut it. It did nothing but make the finger bleed. The finger would not come off.

It was about this time when the guillotine came to life.
It started smashing its' metallic plates down like a thunder clap.
SLAM!! SMASH!!CLANG!! WHAM!!
Charles KNEW there was no-one else except the boss and himself there now, and it was unlikely the boss would turn on the guillotine for no reason.
Charles run out and looked at the guillotine in fear. It looked at him in rage.
The metallic plates smashed down again.
WHAM!!
Charles felt his fingers dropped off painfully and stared in horror as they slithered towards the archives, and his hand grew mechanical parts like his first finger had.

The guillotine smashed down again.
SLAM!!
Charles suddenly fell to the floor, he felt heavy and he couldn't move. His stomach was slowly getting bigger and larger until it was the same size as the machine in the old archive area. It moulded itself into the shape of a rectangle painfully, oh so painfully. Charles found he could not scream, he could only grunt in pain. He didn't know what was happening, but he knew the guillotine's plates were causing it.

He tried hard to move, to get away, but the guillotine smashed down again.
CRASH!!
The pain that time was so excruciating he DID yell. Surely his boss could hear all this? But he knew the boss was high upstairs, where he couldn't hear the machines.
With every slam of the guillotine, parts of Charles body would painfully transform into the very machine he had tried to fix only moments before.
AND WITH EVERY SLAM, THE MACHINE BECAME CHARLES.

Eventually, and to the real Charles' terror, his whole body had taken on the form of the machine. He couldn't move, he couldn't talk, he could only think 'Dear lord Help me!'
The machine that had turned into him walked slowly out in full view of Charles and, if he could, he would have gasped at the sight.
"I have to thank you, Charles, for trying to do something to help me out. But you should have listened to the co-workers and done everything under the supervision of the boss. But now, just so there are no witnesses, and just so your mind can no longer think, I am about to do something to your body which will show to you exactly what happens to those that just don't listen."
The machine in Charles' body walked towards the smiling clown guillotine, which opened its' saws like it was welcoming him to death.
Charles could not scream out stop, he could not prevent what was happening, he could only watch in pure, white terror as the machine in Charles body laid itself under the guillotine, smiled at Charles the machine and then put its' head on the table.
The blade came down once more, and at that power nothing would stop it.

The next day, when workers came in, they found the old machine that was kept in the archives out near the guillotine, with a small wet bit near its top which, after some-one was interested enough to taste, decided it was a tear from some-one's eyes.
They did not find Charles' body, nor did they see any blood. But had they taken the machine they wheeled back to the archives apart and looked around VERY careful and closely, they would have found something which no scientist in any universe could explain.
The machine now had a brain.
And while they wheeled the machine back, the clown guillotine settled down and waited for the next sucker to do something wrong.
After all, it had always been the CLOWN that got everything right.
Ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaaaa!
The End.

[TyredSoul]

Aside from the numerous, unnecessary asides and choppy structure, it's really not too bad a plot. You actually do have some flair for the horror genre, which I certainly do not have. So, I commend you for the effort.

Cleaning up the interjections and choppiness will make this shine.

[freesnarforever]

well, thnx, man! but what exactly do u mean by choppiness? could u explain

[TyredSoul]

You add some interjections from the narrator that are unnecessary. When you put in asides that explain the surroundings in a sentence or paragraph chock-full of action, you merely stem the flow of the action. Most authors (self included) suffer from too much exposition, trying to describe too many things or explain too much. While it is good to have your story firmly grounded in something, explaining every detail went out with Dickens. It is not necessary to explain everything.

Reading between the lines is the most fun part about reading!

[freesnarforever]

ah! ok, thanks. I'll keep that in mind. thank u. i've been writing since I was 6 and I'm now 19. it's not easy, but it's fun!