Here are the results to The Golden Word’s 5th Annual Scary Story Contest: Red Snow. Congratulations to all winners, and a big thanks to Mrs. Valencia and the judges.

1st Place: “Now I Know.” by Javen Brock

There are many things that I didn’t know before. First, I shouldn’t have gone into the woods. Mother’s constant warnings about them really did the opposite of their intended effect. Instead of scaring me, they made me curious. Now I know.
Next, I probably should have gone with someone. Going into the woods alone was a bad idea. Now I know.
Planning was another thing I should have done, instead of plunging into the cold darkness with no idea of where I was going, no plan, no route. Now I know.
Also, I probably should have gone in the day. The woods at night are not a child-friendly place. They aren’t especially kid-friendly in the daytime, either. Now I know.
A jacket would have been worthwhile, even if its rustling risked waking Mother up. But only now do I know.
They say hindsight is 20/20, and they couldn’t be more right.
A flashlight, too, would have been useful to see in the woods, at night. Makes sense, doesn’t it? Now I know.
The woods are loud. Every little step, every stick broken, every little leaf rustling in the wind, it all adds up. Makes the woods feel alive. Now I know.
Twigs are grabby. It may not seem like it, but they easily snag your clothing when you can’t see them. It’s unnerving. Now I know.
Darkness is threatening. You never think about it until you are face-to-face with pure, deep, absolute darkness. It feels alive. Now I know.
Running is tiring in the woods. You can’t see where you are going, you don’t know what is about to trip you. Now I know.
Snow is cold. You may never bother to realize how cold snow is until you go out into the snowy woods in your pjs. Now I know.
You can actually run longer and faster than you think. You just have to be in the right mindset. A scared mindset. Now I know.
The darkness has tendrils. They come after you. Even when you run. Now I know.
It’s hard to see a cliff at night. This should’ve been really obvious. Now I know.
Free falling is scary. Especially in the woods. At night. Now I know.
Snow isn’t that soft. You may have never thought about this, but when you fall onto it fast enough, from high enough, it still hurts terribly. Now I know.
And the darkness will not stop chasing you. Its tendrils will follow you wherever you go, dying to get a grasp on you, to hold you down, and take you away. Now I know.
Now I know what the darkness is. It’s not the lack of light. It isn’t just black. No, the darkness is alive. And it will find you. Grab you. And take you to its master.
The darkness works for the Reaper. Now I know.

2nd Place: “It only comes at night.” by Alyssa Artis

There’s a putrid smell on this cold winter night. It’s familiar to me. The air, it’s thick with wet
decay. The trees wallow in despair, witnessing the wreckage. It only comes at night.
My eyes burn, my body quivers. I go inside, there is no peace here. Only fear.
I close my eyes. I awaken to my pillow dampened by the nightmare, aware of a presence in my
room. It is then I see it. The figure standing in the corner of my room. A mere 10 feet away
from where I lay. It’s motionless. I see no face, but a dim glow where eyes should be. It is
wearing a dark hooded robe. It only comes at night.
I slowly pull the covers over my face. That putrid smell surrounds me. I close my eyes wishing
it away. I hear the breathing, directly over my head. I lay still, hidden under the security of my
cover. I cannot look. It’s familiar to me. It only comes at night.
I weaken. The fear suffocates me. I begin to pray. That putrid smell intensifies, tears roll down
my cheeks. The breathing above me is choked and shallow. I lay still… listening.
“I GOT YOU!” it howls, as my feet are pulled down. I hank back my legs and flee from my bed,
I run. I don’t look back. Down the stairs I leap, my heart racing. It only comes at night.
I find myself back outside. Trembling, my breathing burdened. The moon is a pale pink. My
eyes seek shelter, as I turn around to find it standing behind me. It towers me by seven feet.
There is no face, only a dim glow where eyes should be. It only comes at night.
I run, under the wallowing trees, the air still think with that putrid familiar smell. I will not let the
night take me. I will not let it own me. I run until until my legs bellow and my body becomes
too weak. Tears blinding my sight. It only comes at night.
I fall, red snow all around me. The putrid smell intensifies. Below me, I see it, covered in a
dark hooded robe, dim eyes looking back at me. I cannot open my mouth to scream. I am
alone. It is me. It only comes at night

3rd Place: “Forest Walking” by Sean Camp

My car broke down, well my moms car. Maybe it’s a sign I shouldn’t have taken it in the first place. Though this car isn’t going to stay warm for too long, right?
It doesn’t help that I’m in practically the middle of nowhere next to the Sandias. I probably shouldn’t have been going to that party anyway.
I get out. It’s frozen outside though, maybe I’ll start a fire. But I shouldn’t do it next to the road. Setting a bonfire next to the road probably would have been just as bad as what happens at parties.
So I walk into the forest of the mountains, I like camping anyway, well kinda. I set up a spot and start hitting rocks together onto a piece of wood.
Something fast goes past my side. What was that? Probably just an animal, hopefully. I try to start the fire faster but it’s no use, the sparks never catch.
Cold, that’s all I can describe it as. Around my ankle is cold, but it’s not normal, it’s frigid to my core. Before I can process, I hit the ground.
As I feel warm blood come down my face I’m being dragged, farther, from my campfire. And even farther from the car than I ever should’ve been. Compared to the sharp burning pain that comes next, the ground was nothing.
Burning, that’s all it can be described as. But there’s no fire, no real heat. All I can feel is a pull from the outside-in. It’s so wrong.
As the creature holds onto the skin of my back, I can feel it, tighter. Pure pain, that’s all it is as I drift in and out of consciousness. Tighter, angrier, more pain. Then the sound of tearing as I black out for what I know is the final time.

These empty roads have always unnerved me. At least I’m done with that party, it wasn’t worth my time or gas to get there.
As I drive by the Sandia mountains I remember those Native American legends I’ve learned. They always interested me, I mean Wendigos, Katshituashku, and Skinwalkers.
Though all those legends are nothing compared to what’s on the road. It’s so different and gross and wrong. Maybe it’s a legend too, but it isn’t one I’ve ever wanted to see. Truthfully, it’s a monster.
Though it looks like a man on the side of the road, well that description is wrong. It’s tall, taller than most people. Though its skin is so wrong. It’s pale and pink at the same time like it was stretched over another body. And the facial features are all off.
The only correct thing is the eyes, that’s true. The eyes are fine except the red pooling and streaking down from under them. Now that I’m closer, around the eyes the skin is almost torn, almost overextended.
Though maybe my gazing at it was too much. It walks onto the road before I can hit the breaks.