The Second Year Creative Writing students have been getting into the seasonal spirit (get it?) and have published a fine selection of gothic fiction for your enjoyment.  (Well, some of it is really quite creepy so enjoyment might not be the best word for it)  A selection of their stories are published below…




Jamie felt relieved as she tumbled from the windowsill onto the cold marble floor. Ryan had told her that she was small enough to fit through, but Jamie hadn’t been so sure.  Jamie straightened herself up and dusted off the cobwebs and fragments of glass.  She took a few quiet, hesitant steps forward.  It was hard to see with just the moonlight to guide her but she could just about make out the crumbling plaster on the old school walls.  The pattern on the plaster reminded her of jigsaws, like the ones she used to do with her mother when she was still alive. Continue reading

The clown 

By Rhianna Mason 
The tyres of my Bentley make a crunching noise as I enter into the gravelly driveway. Looking up at the house, I’m stunned. Its ancient spires stand dark against the moonlight menacingly, casting great long shadows down the drive. Ivory grows up one side of the mansion, criss-crossing with the cracked marble walls. High, pointed arches loom over dark windows, and the paint on the door peels away in big rolls. This must be the wrong house, it looks like something from a whole other century. There’s a weird feel about this place, like one you might get if you were walking alone at night, or if you were driving past an abandoned house in the dark. Continue reading

Death’s Resistor

By Thomas McGlynn

Time stopped. It was only him and I, the whole universe frozen. It was soundless. Everything in the background; the road, the car, what remained of the other car, was all tinted yellowish-gold, as if somebody had put a coloured filter over everything except for him. I moved toward him, through the windshield of the car. He noticed me then. With a puzzled expression he mumbled something. The blood covering his face was redder than a rose. His nose was almost level with his mouth. The accident had not been kind to this poor man in his early twenties. Continue reading

Mama’s friends

By Grace Holmes

It’s wet and cold out here. The wind howls around us, controlling us. The night is dark, black and icy. I hold onto my brother’s hand tightly. I don’t want to let go, for fear that he will blow away. He looks up at me with his big blue eyes like a lost puppy wanting to be returned home. I begin to doubt myself, why did I take him away? Then I remember, it was for our own good. Dad was throwing bear cans and cursing at the TV, as he usually does. But tonight he was worse, he’s had a bad day of work. He screamed at my brother and threatened to hit him. So I packed our bags. We are walking down the road, there is and eery silence between us, all we can hear is the whirling wind of the storm, it’s going to be a long night.

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Justin Beaver

By Sean Fitzpatrick

Justin Bieber was like all pop stars; he thought he was great and he was on social media constantly. He lived in a nice house and wore nice clothes. He had it all: wealth, fame, and millions of adoring fans. He spend most of his time writing songs and performing concerts. He was known for having good hair, straight teeth and not being hairy.

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