It's writing time!
Nursery rhymes are actually kinda horrifying to begin with . . . the Black Death, a bridge killing tons of people, a man so obsessed with pumpkins that he dosnt really care about anything else . . .

This is a great prompt.

One question: should it be in poem format or story format?

I want to dark stuff, one example is the pokemon game I write for fun, and this ... well ... its rather dark as well XD

@Uranium, however you want it, your choice...you could do it in poem format...OR you could write a story and have the poem be 'sung' through the duration of the story in itself, kinda like a scary horror 'echo' if you get what I mean...etc...etc...have fun with it

@Everyone else...because why not XD

like...wanna hear a small quickie that popped in my mind as a small sweet example of if you wanna change a nursery rhyme?

'Ring around the rosies,
everything is burning
ashes fly through the skies,
everyone's dead by m_orning.....'

^sing it with the tune of 'Ring around the rosies' lol

"Honey can you get the phone for me please."

"Yes Mommy!"

Jenny smiled as she watched her children Ann and Joey rushed to get the phone, still wearing blanket capes and pots for helmets. Being a single mother was tough, taking care of the kids and having enough to provide for them. They were poor, yes, but they were a happy family. Even if they could be spoiled brats sometimes. Still, she loved them with all her heart and wouldn't want anything to happen to them.

"Mommy a strange man is on the phone," Joey said, handing it to her. Puzzled, she accepted it.

"Hello?"

"Hey, babe, I'm back~" She fumbled with it, her blood running cold.

"I'm sorry," she said stiffly, "I think you got the wrong number."

"Aw, don't be like that, babe-"

"Goodbye." She hung up and took in a shuddering breath. Her stalker, her freaking stalker was on the phone. He had a restraining order and had recently been in jail. How the heck did he manage to get parole? No, just...no.

"Mommy are you okay?" Ann asked, holding a frying pan loosely in one hand. She snapped out of it and smiled.

"I'm fine, sweetie. It's just..." She trailed off.

"It's the bad man again, isn't it?" her little girl asked, face screwing up, "If you comes near us, Imma whack him with this." She swung it her makeshift weapon. "Take that!" Her smile became more cheerful at that.

"Sweetie don't swing it like that, you might hurt someone," Jenny chastised, "It's bedtime, come on you bed bugs, let's go." There were a few "Aww"s but she managed to tuck them into bed.

"Mommy Mommy read us bedtime story, pleaaaaase?" Ann asked.

"Yeah. pleaaaase?"

"Hm, how about...a short nursery rhyme this time?"

"Okay, what is it?" She hummed in thought before reciting it.

"Ladybug, ladybug, fly away home.
Your house is on fire, you're children are gone.
All except one,
Her name is Ann,
She crept under the baking pan."

"Aww, where did the other kids go?" Before she could answer, she heard Joey giggling.

"She said your name!"

"Joey stop that that!" Ann threw a pillow at her brother, causing her mother to frown.

"Honey, don't."

"But Mooooom-"

"No buts." She kissed them on the forehead and returned the pillow to her daughter. "Goodnight."

"Night mom!"

The next day, she left for work as she usually did. True it was a Saturday, but her work was demanding and she needed the money. She always worried about her children, but Ann insisted she was old enough to take care of her and Joey. Still, with that stalker running around... She shook her head. No, they'd be fine, right? She got a call in the middle of her work.

"Hello?"

"You'll regret this," the man muttered into the phone. She said a few cuss words at him and hung up. Work eventually ended and she began the drive home, only to notice that several fire engines were heading towards her neighborhood. What in the world? Her blood ran cold when she noticed it was her house on fire, in a big, roaring blaze. She screamed and stopped the car, quickly getting out of it and running towards her house. The neighbors and the fire fighters wouldn't let her near it. Wait...where were her children?

"NO!" She struggled against their grip. "No, no! My babies are in there! Let me go!"

"Ma'am, we can't allow anyone in there." She glared at the fire fighter that spoke up.

"Why aren't you in there?! Do something!" She wrenched herself free and rushed towards the door, flinging it wide open and getting burned in the process. The blaze and smoke were thick and huge, no one could've survived it. Jenny could only watch and wail as her house burned to ashes, her children nowhere to be found.

From the opposite side of the street, a dark haired man chuckled to himself.

"Ladybug, ladybug, fly away home.
Your house is on fire,
Your children shall burn!"

2.'Mary, Mary Quite Contrary'

"Dear, that old woman is outside again. Maybe you should go check on her," a soft, feminine voice rang out as a figure peered out a curtained window. A masculine sigh followed her words as a man sitting in a recliner looked up from his book, frowning.

"I don't really see how its any of our business, Mari. If she wants to tend her garden at night, that's her choice."

"Yes, but what if she's going senile? I've never seen any visitors stop at her place before, and I would hate for her to catch a chill and pass, if something could have been done."

This time a low chuckle followed her words as her husband set his book aside and stood, crossing from the living room to the kitchen in order to peer out the window along with his wife.

"It's July, I don't think shes going to catch a chill. Shes just a bit of an oddball, that's all."

Sighing, Mari gently shoved her husbands chest. "I still worry about her, David. Please go out there and check on her?" Her voice was a quiet plea as she rolled her grey eyes up at him, mustering the best puppy-dog eyes she could manage. She grinned a moment later when he growled and turned to put on his shoes, muttering the entire time.

"You know I cant resist that look."

"I know. That's why I use it."



The first thing he noticed was the humming. It was a familiar tune, yet he couldn't quite place it. Ah well.

"Excuse me, ma'am? It's awful late to be gardening, isn't it?" His voice was strong despite the slight chill in the air that he definitely wouldn't be telling his worried wife about. Who worried about an old lady tending her own business, anyways? His wife, he thought with more than a touch of fondness. The soft-hearted thing.

"Why hello there, young man. And on the contrary, I find gardening at night more soothing. The sun isn't beating down on you and the world is so much more quiet at night, don't you think?"

Tilting his head, he listened for a moment. Crickets, a dog barking. No traffic, no people walking up and down the streets. Smiling, he nodded. "You're right, I didn't think about that. Sorry for disturbing your peace."

"No trouble at all, young man. Feel free to stop by anytime. Perhaps next time Ill have a treat for you."

---

Sure enough, just a week later his wife stood at the window again, nibbling her lower lip.

"David, shes out there again and its misting out. Shes going to catch a chill for sure."

"And die?"

"David! That's nothing to joke about, at her age."

Sighing, he stood and headed for his shoes again. "Fine, fine. But last time she offered me a treat, so I might be a while this time," he warned her, arching a challenging brow. Mari simply stuck her tongue out at his attempt to dissuade her. "Good, make sure you stay and visit for a while. I'm sure shes lonely."


Sitting in the old woman's living room, a fresh cup of steaming tea set before him, David absently studied his surroundings. A bookshelf lined with herbology books, as many potted plants as there were flat surfaces and, surprisingly, a tabby cat that was winding around his legs. Somehow he figured the old woman was more of a plant than a living creature type of person.

Picking up his cup when the old woman returned with her own and sat across from him, he tried to come up with a topic. Gee, what was she interested in? "So what do you grow? I didn't recognize any of the plants in your garden."

Watching her take a sip of tea, he did as well, trying not to grimace at the slightly bitter taste. Wasn't tea supposed to be gentler-tasting than coffee?

"Oh, I don't suppose you would. I like to grow things a little out of the ordinary. Belladonna, foxglove, monkshood. Plants most people don't like to keep around."

As soon as she stopped speaking she began to hum that same tune hes heard her singing last week. Odd, but then, he knew several older people who couldn't stand any form of silence. He just wrote it up to her age and let it go. "I've never heard of those before, but your flowers are lovely. My wife adores them."

"Oh? That pleases me to hear, perhaps I'll send her a bouquet someday."

Smiling, he took a larger drink of tea, trying to get it down quickly without tasting it. "I'm sure she'd love that. She's the one that keeps worry about you and sending me over here. Not that its a chore," he quickly amended, realizing his slip of tongue. The old woman simply laughed, a soft, wheezy sound.

"Then I shall definitely send her a large, colorful bouquet."

David blinked several times when the world went a little fuzzy, rubbing his eyes to try and clear out whatever it was. His limbs were starting to feel heavy, like when he took his sleeping pills. "Ah...what kind of tea is this?"

"Oh, its a homemade blend from my garden, dear. Some say its a little bitter, but I find it refreshing. You look a little dizzy, dear. Perhaps you should lie down."

He tried to respond but found his tongue was too thick to answer her. Pressing his palms flat against the table he tried to stand, the world taking a sharp turn right before darkness overcame his sight.



She was singing again. He could hear the words this time, but his brain was too fuzzy to quite make them out. He recognized the tune, however. Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary. How appropriate, with her garden.

Slowly the world came back into focus, revealing him to be in a new location. With the cement walls and floor, it looked like a basement. The tired, creaky old woman was gone as well, replaced with a straight-backed, easy-moving version of herself. He could now understand the words she was singing, as well.

"Mary, Mary, looking scary,
What do you feed your plants?
With jellied eyes and picked tongues,
The hemlock just grows and grows."

What? What kind of twisted nursery rhyme was that? Opening his mouth to ask, all that came out was a thick gurgle of sound that made the spritely old woman turn around and smile, a large cleaver in her hands.

"Oh, you're up! Don't bother trying to move, dear, the poison will keep you paralyzed for several more hours yet. It's so much easier to take out the eyes when I don't have to hold your lids open or struggle with you. But don't worry, young man. Ill send your wife the most beautiful bouquet as an apology for taking her husband."

holy shoot Waycrazy, that is creepy 0____0

and also, what a surprise to have you stop by the contest ^_^

...but dang thats creepy stuff there o____________o"

*small shiver goes down her spine*

*bows*

I was reading some of my old poetry from high school this weekend, so it put me in a creepy mood. x3

ohh that's sweet

But you are aware that this means you are now a contestant and I'd have to ping you over each round with the new writing prompts and stuff until you get eliminated, right? Just checking.

Oh yeah, psst, almost forgot to reminder ping you guys, I think it was you who wanted to join in a new game, right?