Head Harvester [Warning-Disturbing]

This is the story, I'm working on with all my passion. This is the story I want to get published and known for being a horror writer for.
This is the story that I want to finish writing. Please help me, all criticism is welcomed.
A little explanation, I made the narrator part of the story. I wanted him to be a character of the story without using 1st person view, I wanted it to be like the really really really old books. Another thing about this story is that each victim in each chapter will be of different mental capacities, like I will have some stupid teenagers, some smart teenagers, some adults, etc.
This story is suppose to be like those old cheesy movies as well.


Head Harvester: The Harvest Begins
Chpt 1
There it stood the house that once had been yellow and full of joyful colors such as green and pink. Now though it was rotting away and turning gray. The once house of love had now become a fun house of hate.
Old remains of people lingered and even new carcasses lay among the decaying earth known to most as grass.
A car pulled up it was a red Ford and five young students came out of the Ford. You knew they had come from the school down below the hill, that faced the decomposing house above but that didn’t mean the house wasn’t going to put up without a fight, for they wore the school sports uniforms.
Two jocks in their football jackets and jerseys they looked like they had been practicing. The three girls, cheerleaders one brunette, the other blond, and the other a red head. Both boys were big and muscle heads. They thought with their man toughness and not their thought toughness.
“Ooo Jamie they are going to get you,” said the blond haired boy.
“Be quiet Jesse,” replied Jamie the blond girl who seemed to be the leader of the pack.
“You guys maybe we shouldn’t mess with a place like this haven’t you heard this house has been followed up by 2,000 deaths do you want us to be the special mark,” asked the red head.

“Be quiet Tammy,” said the brunette.
“What are you scared?” asked the brunette boy.
“No Tom,” said Tammy, “I just don’t want to die.”
“Felicia stop,” said Jamie.
“Sorry,” Felicia the brunette said.
The five walked up to the once wooden door and opened it. The once house full of furniture and life was still and silent. No life existed here not even a mouse dare scurry across the graying floorboards. Jesse and Tom were the first to go in. The three girls were to walk in next, but Tom stopped them with a hand signal.
“Wait I’ve seen this in a movie if we don’t split up we won’t be killed,” he said.
“Fine we’ll stay together,” replied Jamie flipping her blond hair back to show her wonderfully angled cheekbones and flawless skin.
They began to explore this strange world to them. They passed several mirrors that had rusted and cracked. Jesse had time to stop and check himself out. Slicking his already gelled hair back and made hunky faces at himself.
The last time he would be able to that as it hit him hard. Something human, but inhuman at the same time. Blood spurred from the floorboards. Felicia looked around for Jesse.
“You guys Jesse isn’t here,” she said.
“Maybe he split from the group,” Tom replied.
They looked around for him they looked for Jesse in panic matters, but it was to late. Before he could reach them he had already left the building. He let out a ghostly tear and disappeared.

Felicia screamed once she realized it the body of the dead Jesse in the middle of their group. His head was no were to be seen as if a knife had cut it off and yet you could tell no blade did that.
2,001 deaths.
They were all shaken up, but it was Tom who pulled them back. Even though he was a brawny guy sometimes he used his head. Sometimes he didn’t this time he didn’t use his head.
“We’ll look for whatever did this and have them arrested then we could be even cooler,” Tom said recovering quickly from the major upset.
“Maybe we should go back and have the police come here and check it out,” said Tammy.
“For once I’m with Tammy,” said Felicia.
“Yeah Tom give it a rest for a night,” said Jamie.
Tammy began to walk back to the door when something like a strong force of wind flew her back. She felt no initial hit and thought herself fine. When the rest went to her aid they heard a horrible ripping sound as if someone was ripping thick pieces of paper.
They looked back to Tammy her head did not have her lovely red hair she was balled and her face had been sliced like deli meat.
Her eyes were missing.
2,002 deaths.

Now it was just them two deaths had occurred and there was no one in site. Felicia sat on the last of the furniture. She looked at Tom and she looked at Jamie.
“Well what are we going to do?” she asked.
“I say we continue our search,” Tom replied.
“Maybe we should,” Jamie said.
“Fine we should keep really close there is no way anyone could get us,” Felicia said.
They all began the journey up the wood rotten stairs unexpected of what was going to happen. They all put their life in the hands of the rotten despair of this house. Not a very smart idea, but good enough if you want to get yourself killed.
All was quiet as they went up the stairs they went into many rooms without a thing happening. They were looking for clues to this mystery and they could find none in this barren landscape they called a house.
Why have you stopped killing? Do you have mercy for these lucky few children? Do I have to get my hands dirty for you?
At that moment a scarred hand came from the floorboards and ripped Tom’s leg off. He was lying there in pain screaming and howling for help. The pain was seeping through and he was bleeding to death.
Hollow laughs could be heard from everywhere. Now it was only Felicia and Jamie, but not for long. No not for long.
2,003 deaths.

Now Felicia was getting nervous three of her friends had died and there was no turning back. She didn’t want to turn out like deli meat and she didn’t want to die bleeding to death either, but she didn’t want to be in this house.
Jamie could sense Felicia’s tension and she couldn’t blame her, but they had to exact revenge somehow.
“Come on,” Jamie said.
“I don’t want,” Felicia replied.
Jamie was known as a push over and so she began to push Felicia in the right direction.
“Come on if you have ever watched a horror movie the woman always survive,” she said.
“Yeah you’re right let’s continue…I guess the guy can’t kill us we are too beautiful,” Felicia replied.
Guess again this house has no feelings for you and if you live any close to getting out you’ll die and insufferable death.
Felicia and Jamie began their journey to uncover the secrets of the house that we all cherished as children.

The house that use to smell of love and beauty, but now it smells of death, blood, and flesh what love is left is the love of death. Could it be the children have inherited the insanity of departing like this house.
Without them realizing it Jamie and Felicia split up. When Felicia finally noticed she was in a room by herself. She saw chalk drawings on the peeling dusty wallpapers. She also saw pieces of metal and a hammer before she knew it she was creating a barrier in the room.
When she was finished covering the wooden door and windows with the metal she huddled in the corner.

She heard someone coming close to the door. Jamie she thought or maybe it was the police, but wouldn’t she hear the sirens.
She fought her impulse to scream out and instead she sat quiet.
What are you waiting for she is just a small girl?
She then knew her fate when the room shook with violent force and the metal began to bend of the nails she had mounted them in.
A man about the size the young football boys that had died came in. She couldn’t see his face for he wore a hooded coat. She did however see his hands were all scarred and scabbed.
He came close to her and she could smell rotten flesh on him mixed with blood. She screamed hoping someone heard her. Instead she noticed she screamed to late. Her half alive head looked around the room to see her headless body.
How? she thought.
“Easy just because,” the man said in his low voice that could make your ribs shake.
2,004 deaths.

“Who’s counting?” he asked and then he disappeared.
Jamie was last one left and she believed she had it in the bag. She was the prettiest one, she was popular, and beautiful no one was going to kill her. No one was going to touch her. She was the virgin of the group she wasn’t as dirty as Tammy or as bitchy as Felicia.
She looked behind her to finally realize Felicia wasn’t there. She then saw in the corner a thing and unlike going towards the thing she ran away from it. Suddenly her mouth covered by a scabby hand almost like those of zombies pale and decease.
She struggled as hard as she could.
Are you going to hurt her bad for her thoughts and actions? Do you hate her for being so naive?
“Will you shut up?” the man asked.
She began swinging her legs and kicking as hard as she could, but he was too much for her.
He had this inhuman strength she couldn’t imagine. She tried as hard as she could she finally gave up knowing nothing could be done about it. She just hoped for that moment when she was able to escape.
He took her in a room and laid her on the bed. She was to runaway, but he held her back so fast she felt as if her arm was to come off.
He took out a knife and pulled down her skirt. He took of her underwear pink with a little bow on them.

He took them off and threw them away.
“You’re going to get it if you rape me,” she said.
“It’s not me who you should be afraid of,” he replied.
He stuck the knife in her vagina and began to move it around. Blood was seeping out and he smiled at her he played with her. As if the blade was his private and he was trying to get her pregnant with metal shards. He finally found the prize and he took out her ovary.
He licked the blade so she could watch.
“Not so pretty now,” he told her.
“What are you going..”
He put a bloody scabbed hand on her mouth in a hush motion. He licked his lips and ate the ovary and laughed his hollow bare laugh. The laugh that stated this man had seen the worst of all.
He took the blade of the knife and throatily put it up to Jamie.
What are you doing?
“Didn’t I tell you to shut up,”
He began to cut her like an emotional goth child. He cut below the breast line and he licked her blood.
He then cut off her hand and left her to go crazy.
2,005 deaths.
“Who’s counting?” he asked again.
That’s obvious isn’t it?
“Hmm..”
What’s wrong?
“Bring me more,”
Gladly.

Sorry, it does not read like a 'cheesy horror movie,' but like a cheap horror movie. You have an idea, but the presentation is not up to the prime time SciFi flick. This is only something even SciFi would stick in the afternoon slot when most people are working or otherwise not really paying attention.

The phrase is, "A picture is like a thousand words." You need to turn that around to say, "It takes a thousand words to relate a picture." You cannot say, "The once house of love had now become a fun house of hate," but you need to describe what the house had been and relate that to how the house is now. You need to get your readers to sense a feeling of how the house once had been, and then paint how the house is now.

For a horror story, there is almost no emotion. People who are only presented in stereotype are killed with almost no feelings attached to their deaths. You need to have your readers connect to a character before you kill them in order for the readers to care.

The last scene really bothered me. You are a female, darling, so should be able to relate the true pain, humiliation, turmoil, and HORROR of what is being done (or at least much better than me). It comes across extremely dry.

Work on your descriptive skills. Actually look at an old decrepid building and work to put that structure into words. Look at a new active building and work to put that structure into words. See if you can then work a transition to change the new building into the old. Start building your reservoir of images along with the skills for putting those pictures into words (remember, it will take at least a thousand words). Get to work. I know you can do it, and you will be a better person if you do.

TerishD wrote:

Sorry, it does not read like a 'cheesy horror movie,' but like a cheap horror movie. You have an idea, but the presentation is not up to the prime time SciFi flick. This is only something even SciFi would stick in the afternoon slot when most people are working or otherwise not really paying attention.

The phrase is, "A picture is like a thousand words." You need to turn that around to say, "It takes a thousand words to relate a picture." You cannot say, "The once house of love had now become a fun house of hate," but you need to describe what the house had been and relate that to how the house is now. You need to get your readers to sense a feeling of how the house once had been, and then paint how the house is now.

For a horror story, there is almost no emotion. People who are only presented in stereotype are killed with almost no feelings attached to their deaths. You need to have your readers connect to a character before you kill them in order for the readers to care.

The last scene really bothered me. You are a female, darling, so should be able to relate the true pain, humiliation, turmoil, and HORROR of what is being done (or at least much better than me). It comes across extremely dry.

Work on your descriptive skills. Actually look at an old decrepid building and work to put that structure into words. Look at a new active building and work to put that structure into words. See if you can then work a transition to change the new building into the old. Start building your reservoir of images along with the skills for putting those pictures into words (remember, it will take at least a thousand words). Get to work. I know you can do it, and you will be a better person if you do.

Thank you for your help.
I do have on thing to say....I'm a boy. Not a girl.

OOH, ACK!!! I apologize. Yep, blew it. I swear I saw pink -- AAH, let me hush while I am ahead. I again apologize.

Okay, so you are in the same boat I am. You have to imagine. That is where experience does help me. Having lived a few years with women, I know a bit about their anatomy. Still, feelings and such cannot be related first-hand. The truth is however that men can sometimes do better, because we can put more attention into stressing certain feelings that causes more of an emotional attachment (I have found that ladies won't tell me that I am wrong - but they won't tell me that I am right either, although will mention that I presented the material well). The point is - TAKE THE TIME TO DESCRIBE. It is time well spent.

The once house of love had now become a fun house of hate.
Why? why was it once a house of love? and why a fun house of hate? what's fun about hate? do funny things happen?


The house that use to smell of love and beauty, but now it smells of death, blood, and flesh what love is left is the love of death. Could it be the children have inherited the insanity of departing like this house.

Here we go again with the house... Why was it the house of love? how long prior these events was the house a house that smelt of love? Have all those deaths happened in a very short period of time?



Without them realizing it Jamie and Felicia split up. When Felicia finally noticed she was in a room by herself. She saw chalk drawings on the peeling dusty wallpapers. She also saw pieces of metal and a hammer before she knew it she was creating a barrier in the room.
When she was finished covering the wooden door and windows with the metal she huddled in the corner.

I've stopped reading. I'm totally confused, I just don't get it... friends get killed right in front of them and not exactly in a quiet way and these people still stay around in the house... I know that's what usually happens in all scary films... people stay and then horrible things happen to them.. but... would real people do that? I'd certainly flee from the place.

I think this needs more information of some sorts like the origins of that house for a start.


I know that if this is chapter 1, more information should come along the way somehow but this seems to be going fast... deaths happen quickly so I need some info.


Anyway.. that's just me....

alexandra wrote:

The once house of love had now become a fun house of hate.
Why? why was it once a house of love? and why a fun house of hate? what's fun about hate? do funny things happen?


The house that use to smell of love and beauty, but now it smells of death, blood, and flesh what love is left is the love of death. Could it be the children have inherited the insanity of departing like this house.

Here we go again with the house... Why was it the house of love? how long prior these events was the house a house that smelt of love? Have all those deaths happened in a very short period of time?



Without them realizing it Jamie and Felicia split up. When Felicia finally noticed she was in a room by herself. She saw chalk drawings on the peeling dusty wallpapers. She also saw pieces of metal and a hammer before she knew it she was creating a barrier in the room.
When she was finished covering the wooden door and windows with the metal she huddled in the corner.

I've stopped reading. I'm totally confused, I just don't get it... friends get killed right in front of them and not exactly in a quiet way and these people still stay around in the house... I know that's what usually happens in all scary films... people stay and then horrible things happen to them.. but... would real people do that? I'd certainly flee from the place.

I think this needs more information of some sorts like the origins of that house for a start.


I know that if this is chapter 1, more information should come along the way somehow but this seems to be going fast... deaths happen quickly so I need some info.


Anyway.. that's just me....

Thank you for the criticism.
Has anyone scene Pulp Fiction or Star Wars?
Well I wanted to write a backwards horror stories.
One of the books tells you why it was a house of love.
And how the characters came together and what they did, etc.
This book continues on their journey.
I have a question, should I write the story of these two characters coming together first or continue writing this one?

right......

if it's going to be a backwards story, perhaps the house thing shoulnd't be mentioned here then? (just a thought) because it seems to be important and as it is now I find it confusing.


I've seen pulp fiction and I liked it..´

seen star wars but can't remember much... not my type of film.


so we're going to get more info then! : )

But that wasn't what I wanted to do.
I wanted people go....oh that's the house in Head Harvester 1.
Oh, I see this happened before this happened.
But fine, I'll right Head Harvester intended to be 2, but actually the beginning, that happened before Head Harvester intended to be 1, but actually the second half.

What's the strange smiley mean?

I read a lot, A LOT, of unpublished aspiring horror writers. This isn't the worst, by far, but it's not very good either, for a lot of the reasons TerishD gave you.

The characters are stereotypes and not just in the sense that they are jocks and cheerleaders who flip their hair and primp in front of mirrors, but that they are the sort of stupid teenagers who go into the creepy houses of death. That plot line has literally been done to death. So, if you are going to use it you are going to have to come up with some really original twist to put on it.

Also, the number 2,000 dead was bothering to me. 2,000 people are dead and the authorities haven't gotten involved? The place hasn't been torn down? It's just sitting there wide open and anyone can just drive right up to it. There is something that just rings false about that, even for horror.

As for the writing itself, you got your point across, but it felt very mechanical; almost like it was an outline for a movie. Horror writing require a lot of action writing. It requires a lot of setting up the atmosphere. You need to describe the setting and the characters in greater detail. And when the heads start coming off you first need to know exactly what that would look, sound, smell, and feel like and then you need to depart those sensation to your readers.


BTW, I thought you were a girl too the first couple of times you posted. That is the risk you take being a male using a female's image as a display picture.

Leaka wrote:

What's the strange smiley mean?

it was meant as encouragement

this is a long piece so it's going to take some working...

HYdraMStar wrote:

I read a lot, A LOT, of unpublished aspiring horror writers. This isn't the worst, by far, but it's not very good either, for a lot of the reasons TerishD gave you.

The characters are stereotypes and not just in the sense that they are jocks and cheerleaders who flip their hair and primp in front of mirrors, but that they are the sort of stupid teenagers who go into the creepy houses of death. That plot line has literally been done to death. So, if you are going to use it you are going to have to come up with some really original twist to put on it.

Also, the number 2,000 dead was bothering to me. 2,000 people are dead and the authorities haven't gotten involved? The place hasn't been torn down? It's just sitting there wide open and anyone can just drive right up to it. There is something that just rings false about that, even for horror.

As for the writing itself, you got your point across, but it felt very mechanical; almost like it was an outline for a movie. Horror writing require a lot of action writing. It requires a lot of setting up the atmosphere. You need to describe the setting and the characters in greater detail. And when the heads start coming off you first need to know exactly what that would look, sound, smell, and feel like and then you need to depart those sensation to your readers.


BTW, I thought you were a girl too the first couple of times you posted. That is the risk you take being a male using a female's image as a display picture.

My plan for this story is different kinds of victims.
You have stupid teenagers, business people, film directors, etc.
You have different victims on different maturity level, and different levels of intellect.
The reason the cops haven't come is because they have been killed their as well.
They are part of the growing number.

hummmmmm

I thought that when cops get killed the whole lot come down in a kind of heavy way..... if many get killed, I expect the whole of the countr police department or whoever governs them to be on the ball

alexandra wrote:

hummmmmm

I thought that when cops get killed the whole lot come down in a kind of heavy way..... if many get killed, I expect the whole of the countr police department or whoever governs them to be on the ball

Well I didn't explain it very well these killers are like regular killers, but there is something about them that is inhuman.
Something sort of supernatural about them.
If anything they went on a massacre, if a whole bunch of cops came down.
I'm not going to give my killers names either the shadow is the man raping the woman with a knife and the head harvester. The figure is the one counting and kinda telling the story, but he is also a killer.
He is known for really wonderful blackmail and manipulation.
So he has the police on his string as well.
Break any rules that the figure has set and you die or something very important and close to you dies so that way you can continue to do your work keeping the house safe from other cops and government to getting to close.
The figure is an inside man.
The shadow is a born hunter and killer.

and reporters?

alexandra wrote:

and reporters?

Don't the police control reporters?
Don't the police tell the reporters what they can publish and what they can't on an "active crime scene?

If not then the reporters who do want to write stories on this house are all pretty much dead. There is no manipulation going on there.
They are killed and their notes burned.
Of course somewhere remote, so that way no one finds them.
Or they are disguise as crazy weirdos, who decided to commit suicide.

right......


well.... you have a huge task! blimey! I can't write that much! (nice envy emoticon!)

alexandra wrote:

right......


well.... you have a huge task! blimey! I can't write that much! (nice envy emoticon!)

I can write that much.
I'm inspired to write that much.