The Cursed Mask of Doom - 7th Place

“Nooo!!”



Simon stood over the tattered remains of what had once been his halloween costume. He had left it on the porch for just a few moments, thinking it would be safe there. Alas, the neighbor’s dog had gotten its filthy paws on the costume and had thoroughly shredded it.



Simon whipped out his phone and began to call his friend. It went to voice-mail, so he left a message. “Hey, sorry but I’m gonna be late to the Halloween party. Something happened to my Halloween costume and I need to pick up a new one. See you soon.”



Simon ran down to the local mall. Most normal stores would be closed at this hour…


But this was not a normal store.



“Hector’s Fine Collectibles” was its name and antiques and knick-knacks was its game. While most people ignored this odd place, every Halloween it would stock up on the best in spooky costumes and horrifying decorations.



Simon burst through its door and raced around the store looking for a costume, any costume.



Nothing.



The Halloween merchandise was gone and only the usual over-priced curiosities and other junk remained.



Strolling up to the register, Simon saw two beady little eyes emerge from the shadows. It was the owner Hector H.



“What happened to your costumes and stuff?” Simon demanded. “I really need one and I need it now.”



Hector stared at Simon for a moment, then, as if only registering the question at that moment, replied “I’m sorry, but I’ve packed away all my Halloween inventory for the season. Whatever I don’t sell, I always donate to the local orphanage.”



Simon swiftly said “But sir, I absolutely need a new costume. Certainly the orphans can do with a little less.”



Hector shrugged his shoulders and stayed where he stood. Frustrated, SImon finally declared “Give me a costume right now or I will never shop here again. In fact, I’ll tell everyone I meet not to go to the is stupid, weird place!”



Hector’s face, which had been blank throughout the exchange, began to form a smirk. “Well, for a fine young lad like yourself, I think I could scrounge up something.”



Disappearing into a back-room, he emerged a while later with a strange green mask. “Here you go, that’ll be 30 dollars.”



With a groan, Simon paid the money and left to go to the party. Before reaching his friend’s house he pulled the mask over his face and prepared to have fun.



He did have fun. The mask was a little bulky and uncomfortable, but Simon was having such a blast that he didn’t feel like taking it off.



Afterwards, he was walking home with his friend Daniel. It was after midnight and it was time to turn in. Half-way there, Simon finally gave in and attempted to take the mask off.



It wouldn’t budge.



It was as if it had fused to his face; the mask was stuck there.



More annoyed then frightened, SImon asked his friend, “this stupid thing won’t come off, can you help please?”



They pulled and pulled and the mask still would not come off. With one final tug, it released its grip on Simon’s face with a nasty ripping sound.

“Thank goodness,” Simon said, before seeing the horrified look on his friend’s face. Reaching up to tough the side of his head, Simon found not skin and hair, but bone and brains. Simon screamed.