POST: Scary Stories--The Opening Paragraph

On this thread, please post the opening paragraph of your scary story. We want to see how you build setting and introduce your key character.

Take a risk. Let's see what everyone comes up with.

Mr. K

The rain poured onto the winshield, making the passengers of the car feel as if they were riding in a submarine.
"I'm sorry you guys," said Robert's mother, "I really thought we would make it to your grandma's house tonight, but this rain has made the traffic unbearable."
"We're going to have to stop at a hotel and finish this drive in the morning. The roads are getting too slick and I don't want to risk an accident," Robert's father explained.
"Makes no difference to me," said Robert, "This just means one less night of grandma's boring stories and terrible cooking."
Rachel, Robert's sister, was wearing ear phones and simply nodded her head.
"That looks like a good place to stop," said Robert pointing to a Holiday Inn.
"How 'bout that place across the street," said Robert's dad, "the sign says they have free continental breakfast."
"Dad, that hotel has backwater, hole-in-the-wall, fly-by-night, bankrupt hotel chain written all over it."
"Doesn't matter," said Robert's dad, "We'll only be there for a few hours to sleep."
The car slid to a stop in the parking lot and the family trudged into the vacant lobby. They left a trail of water as they approached the front desk and rang the bell.
A strange voice eminated from the back room, "Alright I have to go...someone wants to check in...just be sure no one can hear you...do it around midnight...got to go...bye."

It was nearly midnight in the forest, and the fog lay thick across the ground. The small twon nearby was completley invisible, cloaked in the erie sheet of mist. In the middle of the town, the church tower stood alone above the murk. There gleamed the light from which the village looked for researurance. But tonight, they knew something was very different.
Hank continued into the forest, leaving the last rails of human inhabitance behind him. Eventually, he reached the formidable clearing in the forest, which looked all too familiar. Here, the ground was completley bare, only dirt covered the forest floor. The grass and undergrowth had been shredded, ripped and tossed to the side. Slowly, painfully, Hank drew the handcuffs from his pack. Even more slowly, he placed them on his wrists and ankles, locking himself tightly within. With that, he dropped to the ground, and stared around in the mist through his gray-blue eyes. He hated and dispised himself, knowing what was inside him. But now, there was nothing to do but wait. Then, just as expected, the fog slowly cleared. And the aired with with screams.
Far away, in the little town, a ripple of terror flew through the sleeping minds of the inhabitants. Every man and every women heard the distant screams of horrifiying agony. Anger, hatred, and violence echoed from the cry into every corner of the town. Next, as if in a bad horror movie, the lights of the houses flicked out. Slowly, but steadily, the dark wave encircled the city, leaving the church light standing alone at the center. Finally, as the screams fell away, the last light flickered and died, just as it always did every full moon ...

Along a country road stands a small mishapen cross, worn by weather and crooked with time. Farther along there is a house, what must have been a majestic victorian during its time. But now all the windows are cracked and a whole side of the house has been pulled off by a tornado. The house has grown into the land with ivy crawling up its turret and the porch littered with dirt and weeds. Throughout the yard old furniture is scattered, a broken picture frame and a cracked headboard for an old bed. everything is cracked or broken except for a wicker rocking chair that sits solemnly swaying in the wind.

There was a nice quiet suburban town at the base of a valley. Up north of the valley there was a small hill that no one ever visited. There were stories told but many stretched so much to the point of unbelief. Long ago someone had built a rickety playground. There were a couple of rusty chain swings that creaked as the shivering wind blew them back and forth. Also there were a set of cold monkey bars and other playground necesities.
Suddenly foot prints appeared in the sand where the feet of someonne sitting in the swing would be. Then there appeared a little girl, not a day older than six. She appeared almost as she had been invisible.

There is a forgotten town, between the two mountains. It started when pioneers were travelling westward, and settled there. It was not a favorable place to live, and it was forgotten to the outside world, and the people who remained were fast to die. During those days, the villagers knew there were "others", no one had ever ventured near the others. They lived past the forest and over the stream. It was discouraged for anyone to go into the forest, but they should never, ever, go to the stream.

She stood on the doorstep of her house, looking out into the twilight. Clouds brewing at the edge of the sky told her that a storm was coming. Her blue eyes searched the dirt lane that wound around a small lake in the front of the house, scanning for her husband Jim, who had left early this morning for town. He had promised her that he'd be back two hours ago, and she was getting worried. Behind her, the dying rays of the sun shone on the house that she and Jim were remodeling. Bought at a relatively cheap price from a seedy looking man who hadn't spoken more than a couple of sentences to them, it was clearly a wreck. Sunlight glinted on the faded wood of the house, its paint peeling. Here and there, the light reflected on the jagged teeth of the broken windows on the first floor. But it was theirs. Jim was so excited about it, planning each and every room. Who was she to spoil it? So she just kept her fears to herself and tried to pay the increasing bills.

On a dark and lonely island there once lived a family of 4. The family had experienced something that nobody wants to even read in a book. Before the children were born, Greg and Mary witnessed a horrible event. This event is what caused Mary and Greg to be trapped on the island, and what caused thier pain, isolation, and suffering for the rest of their lives.
This whole predicament started when Greg and Mary were newly wed. There was a small community at the bottom of a valley, where everyone was happy, and nothing disasterous ever happened.... well that is until October 31st, 1955. On a strangely dark night, a large boat showed up to the island. The boat was full of masked and armed men who slaughtered everyone on the island..... except for the newlyweds. The men told Mary and Greg that they could live, but in exactly ten years their lives would drastically change, and horrible things would happen to them. The men left Mary and Greg on the island alone, with the fear of what would happen to them ten years later. Now, the date is October 30th, 1965.

Five minutes until midnight, and all of the lights in the old victorian home were lit. There was a masquerade party that night, and all of the masked guests were jolly and gay. They dannced, ate, drank, and laughted, and in the midst of all the fun, no one noticed one particular guest who snuck away into the kitchen. Once there, the guest searched high and low through all of the drawers until he found the perfect blade. He crept over to the electric utility box, and precisely selected the wires. The old grandfather clock in the ballroom struck midnight, and all the lights in theg grand home slowly flickered off.

The rain poured down hard as Harvey drove down the empty street late that night. He had lost track of time during the party and was now rushing to get home. After a few minutes he realized he was low on gas. When he got to a fork in the road, he decided to take the shortcut to save some time. The lights of the car caused the trees to cast odds shadows and made Harvey wonder why he never took this road before. As he went on, the engine of the car began to sputter. "Don't give up on me now!" he cried desperately. But after passing a few more trees, the car slowly came to a stop. All he could hear was the beating of his heart as he slowly realized he had stopped right in front of the town graveyard.

John Grant sat in the corner of his room cold and shaking. He hungered for something that he knew instictively to be human flesh. Strange because until recently, he didn't even know what raw meat tasted like, and so far had not tasted human flesh. John knew that it was all somehow related the bizzare creature that had made off with his left arm just two weeks before. It's body was like of a starved lion, and its head like a cross between a horse and a snake. The image of the unusual beast became more and more terrifying each time John played the horrible experience in his mind. John lived in a relitively small community out in the country, and himself owned a small farm next to a swamp. He dared not venture too far from his home, but only occasionally slaughtered his own animal to try in a futile attempt to satisfy his hunger for flesh.

It wasn't normal for huge storms to hit Radioville, but it just happened to creep up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Lily, being only 7 at the time, hated storms. She tried to fall asleep when, suddenly, she heard a crash downstairs. She sat up in her bed and looked around. Everything seemed fine, so she grabbed her teddybear and walked down the stairs. Lightning flashed and the lights flickered out. Lily ran upstairs and hid under her covers. She shut her eyes and hoped she would fall asleep soon. She looked across the hall and saw some light illumintaing the dark hallway. Thinking her parents were awake, Lily got out of bed and walked towards the door. She put her small hand on the doorknob. It was ice cold. She saw shadows moving under the door. She started to turn the doorknob when the shadows stopped moving. The light turned off and she opened the door. Lily's eyes grew wide as she looked around. Her mother was lying on a blood-soaked bed with a knife through her chest. Her father was hanging from a rope from the ceiling. She heard someone, or something, laughing abnormally and the next thing she knew, she was lying in a hospital bed. A doctor told her what happpend and left her in her cold room alone. Lily fell asleep and would never forget what she dreamed that night.

The newlyweds, Sarah and Peter, opened the door of their new home. It was a charming little house on Cape Cod, in fact, it even had a lighthouse about 15 yards away, though still on their property. It had been an old house, but remoldeled by realtors. Everything had been repainted, refloored, refurnished, etc. Except for one thing, the lighthouse. No matter how many times realtors tried to approach it, the same little boy came along a sang a song in another tongue, quickly changing the realtors' minds. But Sarah and Peter had made a pact when they bought the house; this summer, they swore to repaint the old lighthouse themselves so they could spend many nights together up there. And so, here they were, opening the front door of their new home. Sarah stepped in first, closely followed by Peter. He started to close the door until he noticed that the doormat was cruckid. As he straightened the doormat, he saw letters engraved on the floor. He quickly removed the doormat out of curiousity; it read "Le sang des proprietaires destiner ramenera tous les marins mort." Peter knew a little bit of French and he recognized a few words; 'sang' meant blood, 'destiner' meant destined, 'marins' meant sailor, and 'mort' meant dead. Peter was confused so he decided to ignore the message and cover it up again. Maybe Sarah would know what it meant, after all they did meet in their college French class.

It was a quiet night on the long narrow street. Many houses filled the street. Normally anyone could hear noises, like crickets chirping or dogs howling, but today nothing could be heard. All that could be heard was a faint thumping sound. The young baby sitter, Claire, and her partner, Tom, were at a job on this quiet street. Claire and Tom didn't notice how the five year-old, Matt, was alert to everything. But both of the baby sitters were busy watching a movie with the lights off. Suddenly the lights turned on and Claire screamed while Tom looked around. When they looked back toward the TV, there stood Matt with a large butcher knife holding it menacingly.

All was still on a dark night in a small village surrounded by tall mountains and isolated by other communities by hundreds of miles. From far way, the village looked nice but if examined closely one could see the cobwebs and cracked paint on the houses. No one had lived there for years. All of the inhabitants had just suddenly left a couple of years ago. Tonight, three siblings on their way to their father's house entered the village to get some food. They stopped in front of a building and went in to have a look. They discovered piles of rubble on the floor and broken furniture scattered across the room. Old, faded posters were plastered on the walls. "I don't think there's been anyone here for a long time. I'm not hungry anymore, let's go," Delia, the youngest sibling at 13, said. Her older brother Tristan, 18, and sister Leah, 16 agreed. The three quickly leftt, but when they got outside their car was nowhere to be seen.

There is a path full of weeds and surrounded by trees. A breeze is blowing, causing the leaves to make a faint scratching noises on the window of a cabin in a small clearing. The porch in the cabin is made of wood, rotting wood that doesnt seem to have a chance. The grass is dead and yellow around it, and there are no birds singing or frogs croaking from the little pond beside the cabin. The pond shows no life besides the algea and the broken sailboat slightly swaying in the breeze.

The lights, TV, and radio all turned off the moment I opened the door. I was scared. It was as if the power going out was all my fault. I continued further into the house. As I walked, the floorboards creaked, every step i took. I also heard scratching from one of the rooms. So, I decided to walk into each room and find out the cause. I put my hand on the knob and cautiously turned. Slowly I stepped in. The window was making the noise from outside. Every few seconds there was scratching on the window by the tree. I could feel myself shaking.

It was Friday, almost the weekend, and Tommy and Jessica were heading out for their trip to Mammoth Ski Resort. Tommy and Jessica were a married couple who had been together for 6 months. They had been driving for about an hour now, on a single lane road with winds and curves coming at them unexpectedly. They were listening to the radio, when all of a sudden, it got staticky and eventually stopped. They were frustrated, but didn't think much of it. Suddenly, their car slowed down and came to a stop. Tommy got out to investigate what the problem was, and he came across something very bizarre. Laying across the width of the road, was a flexible, medal bar, with spikes sticking out of it in every direction. He shouted, "Jessica! Quick, you need to see this!" She immediatly got out of the car, and surveyed the area. She gasped at the sight, and had a confused look on her face. "It seemed to me as if somebody wanted us to break down." They both looked around, as if searching for and explanation, and what they saw, alarmed them...

It all began on one cloudy night in the middle of the old church graveyard, a night so dark that nothing could be seen. However, just as the clouds began to part an eerie sliver of silver moonlight illumated the night, and by this fragment one could vaguely see the gruesome body of a moving, rotting corpse. This monstrosity reaked the stench of a thousand carcasses, and was missing the upper half of its head, an arm, and a foot, and yet it lived. It was the spawn of the man who had defied the very laws of nature, one who had cheated even death himself!

Vera sat at the desk in the room. A piece of her dark brown hair fell past her ear and she reached up to tuck it back again. In front of her, the picture of the little girl with the cold, grey eyes and stiff, ash blonde hair stared back at her, like always. Next to the picture sat the telegraph machine, what Vera considered to be her life line. Looking around the austere room, she was greeted by the same few objects she always saw. Her bed, white walls, white tile floors. The bathroom. And a locked safe in the middle of the room. The little girl in the picture stared on as if glaring at the photographer. Vera set her scarred, dry hands on the telegraph machine, sighed, and began to type.

Laura was young, only fourteen, but every year she was sent to visit her Grandmother. Her Grandma was a small, wiry woman of ninety-two that lived in an old farm house in Montana. Her husband died three years ago and she hasn't been the same since. This year she asked Laura to make a cup of tea and put it on the parlor table along with a tiny silver spoon and a small jar of sugar. After doing so Laura went back to the kitchen and asked if her Grandmother wanted anything else with her tea. In a raggedy voice she replied, "Nothing, my dear. He only likes tea."

A lone car drives down a winding dirt path on a cold foggy night. Howls are heard in the distant, as a full moon illuminates the sky with an eeire glow. Inside the car Marc is driving back from his Uncle Jerry's funeral, and is exhausted from driving for hours. He start to shut his eyes, but his cell phone rings. "Hello?", says Marc drowsily. A callous voice answers, "Stop the car now." Marc's foot involuntarily slammed on the brakes, and screeched to a stop. A split second after the car stopped, a bolt of lighting struck the ground ten feet ahead of Marc. "What just happened?" "I have done you a favor, and now it is your turn to do me one"

In the small town of Misty Falls, a worn-down church lies alone on the top of a hill. About two years ago, a priest by the name of John Blake built the church, for all the townspeople to share. It was a marvelous church, with bright marigold flowers surrounding the church, stain-glass windows, pure white walls, and "In the House of God, everyone is forgiven" just above the doorway. Unfortunately, three days after he finished his house, he fell sick, and while he was in the hospital, he was not visited once. He grew bitter, and on his second day in the hospital, he died a cold lonely death. At his funeral, only 1 person attended, whose identity was never known. A couple days after Blake's death, the words, "All shall perish by the wrath of God" were burned over the doorway, over the past inscription. The land around the church also turned bad; what used to be grass is now just all weeds and the flowers were now just brown, dead stems. All the townspeople have heard the legends of the church, and were all petrified to enter or get close to it. No one ever laid foot inside the church for two years, until one October night...