An organ plays in the distance. The mood is set.
Velcome, velcome! Come in, come in! Tonight’s dark tale is about to begin! Bleh!
Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, may I have your attention, please? Vonce again, it is I, Count Spatula, here to bring a close to our Veek of Blood Flash Fiction Contest! Ah, ah, ah! Before I announce our vinner, I vould first like to thank everyvone who participated. Vithout your submissions, this vouldn’t have been possible. Ve hope to have more contests on the site in the future on a variety of different topics. But until then, thank you all for your vork!
And now, for our decision. Bleh. After an extensive period of heavy deliberation and looking over our contest entries multiple times, I’m fairly confident in the story ve have selected to be our first ever Veek of Blood Flash Fiction Contest Vinner. And so, vithout further delay, please allow me present to you a submission from a man who chooses to go by the simple but effective moniker, “Faustico.” Here it comes, our vinning tale! Ladies and gentlemen…
CLICK HERE to read!
That is everything. I suppose ve should finally let the site persist on its own now. But…
…there is still vone more thing left to do…
Count Spatula turns to the bound and gagged figure of Dylan Alexander. He’s almost done.
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