Concept Art Writing Prompt: The Monsters that Crashed the Prom

Illustration for article titled Concept Art Writing Prompt: The Monsters that Crashed the Prom

Depending on where you live, prom season might be just coming to a close, and in this gymnasium, prom included a few special guests. What happens when a flood of horrors comes to boogie down?


This is an older piece by artist Sam Bosma, via The Art of Animation. So does this end in blood and tears, or do these monsters just want to dance? Post your story in the comments.

Illustration for article titled Concept Art Writing Prompt: The Monsters that Crashed the Prom

Here's my story:

As Rey looked down at the floor of the gym, she kicked the scoreboard with her heels, causing it to sway a little. "You know," she said, "I never understood why red was supposed to be a romantic color, but now I get it."

Below her, the bodies of her classmates, decked out in their formalwear, mingled with the massive monsters that had crashed through the gym wall just minutes earlier. Heads had popped beneath clawed hands like zits. Tiffany bracelets jangled at the ends of disembodied arms. What had once been a sea of silvers and blacks and pinks and powder blue was now caked in brilliant, flowing red.

Roach wrapped one arm around Rey's shoulder, his other hand gripping one of the beams that attached the scoreboard to the ceiling. "Is it everything you hoped for?"

"Mmm-hmm." Rey leaned back into his chest and dangled her boots over the carnage.

An enormous, toothy beast ducked through the hole in the gym wall. This one was larger than the rest by half and Rey straightened her back as it stomped through the gym. Its wrinkled head brushed against the scoreboard, sending it arcing back to the wall. Rey and Roach hugged the side beam as the scoreboard swung back forward, Roach's cackling laughter singing in Rey's ear.

"That was close," Rey said when the swinging finally slowed to a gentle rocking. "Dude almost took us out."

Roach shrugged. "One of them will get us eventually."

Rey twisted her neck to look back at him. "What do you mean?"

Roach waved a hand at the fresh wave of monsters climbing through the hole. "One of those guys is bound to knock us off or grab us. Then we'll be monster chow like everyone else."

Rey's stomach lurched. As Cindy Horowitz screamed one of the monsters shot a tentacle at her mouth and ripped Cindy's tongue from her throat. Cindy pitched forward, blood gushing from her mouth. Rey couldn't even think of all the vicious gossip Cindy's tongue had spread, all the times she'd called Rey a used-up cum rag. "I thought we were supposed to live through this."

"Ohhh." Roach rested his chin on the top of her head. "No, baby, no. We're gonna die here tonight. Together."

Rey felt tears spring to her eyes. "We were going to get out of this dumb town," she whispered.

"Not after this," Roach said. "Even if we did survive, we'd be public enemies numero uno and dos."

"You think they'd know it was us?"

Roach tugged Rey's fist open to reveal the star-shaped scar on her palm. Rey had nearly been suspended when Mrs. Pike caught her carving it into her hand with a pair of scissors. "I think they'd suspect," Roach said.

Rey searched the room for a means of escape. Roach had let the rope they'd used to climb up fall to the ground, Rey had thought to keep anyone else from following them to safety. She scrambled to her feet, wondering if she could fling herself onto a nearby stack of blue mats.

"I told you there would have to be a blood sacrifice," Roach said, letting go of her hand.

"I thought you meant them!" Rey gestured at the screaming, writhing remnants of teenagers below.

"Wow," Roach said. "Women really are from Venus."

Rey crouched on the edge of the scoreboard. She might break her neck, but she figured her chances on the ground were better than trapped up here. She closed her eyes, whispered a short prayer, and didn't even see it when the enormous maw engulfed the scoreboard and her with it.

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"Why did you do it?", they kept asking — the cops and psychologists and, later on, the few reporters who managed to get through to her in the youth facility by posing as relatives. "Why'd you do it, Margie? Why spike the punch? Was it a prank? Some sort of dare? Were they bullying you?"

Only one had the sense to ask the right question; the young detective who questioned her first, before her parents had even arrived. "Why that bowl of punch, the good stuff? You only drugged the Exalted Ones. You wanted them to go mad. How come?"

She wanted to tell him, right there, shivering on a hard wooden bench in her blood soaked dress. He was ugly like her, she felt like he'd understand. But the words didn't come out.

"Because I'll never be beautiful.

Because I'm tiny and soft and hideous, and I have to cover my pale, hairless shame with cloth. I can't even grow a beard. How will I ever get into college without a single Elder reference? How is Tom going to notice me when I barely reach his knees? So I wanted them to kill us all; All the tiny, the weak and insignificant. No more pain. Only beauty, forever."

And it had worked—except they didn't take her. Tom, the magnificent athlete with the clear grey eyes, had still passed her by; she had dreamed of dying in his arms, crushed against that strong chest. Instead he had picked up Bethany Greene and stared at her blankly for a moment before tossing her against the wall. Bethany fucking Greene. How was she worthy? Even Margie's brother David, who had helped her smuggle in the powder and watched the carnage with her, fell prey to the brilliant white teeth of Katie the prom queen. But Margie didn't die.

Now she looked around the court room and noticed that bright young detective again, wondering how he had come to be where he was. And her lawyer, who was just now leaning in conspiratorally to ask—why'd you do it, Margie—well, she was a squishy too. Could she have been wrong?