FrightVision: Exhibit A: FrightVision

By Culliver Crantz

Welcome to FrightVision!

 

The scientists who are part of the FrightVision Universe are looking to make nightmares come true at the expense of kids. But how do they find out what the kids are scared of?

 

From the kids themselves.

 

Each story in EXHIBIT A is written by a young FrightStormer between the ages of 8 and 12 years old! Little did they know, their story could become the next experiment. 

 

100% of the royalties from EXHIBIT A will be donated to Anaik's Loving Library!

 

Happy Nightmares!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Write 211 LLC
• Release date: Apr 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9781952910982

Culliver Crantz

Award-winning author Culliver Crantz has a unique perspective on storytelling. Born from a chance encounter with a cursed set of screws, Culliver's imagination runs wild with spooky thrills and nightmares. With each turn of the page, he invites readers to delve into the unknown depths of his mind and experience the eerie tales he's crafted. Join Culliver on a journey of the macabre, where anything is  possible and nightmares come to life. Let the adventures begin!

Book preview

Check out the other books in the FrightVision series:

The Cursed Coin

Picture Day

Wishful Thinking

Framed for Life

#GraveyardChallenge

The Attack of the Yellow Smart Sack

The Cursed Coin 2

Broken Hearts

The Peephole

The Cursed Coin 3

FrightFully Fun Puzzles, Games, & Stories

Copyright © 2022 by Write 211 LLC

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means without prior written permission from Write 211 LLC. The only exception is if a reviewer uses a short excerpt for a published review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover illustration: Stephanie Gaston

Cover Design: Stephanie Gaston

www.FrightVisionBooks.com

Instagram, Facebook, YouTube: @FrightVisionBooks

Acknowledgements

Wow! I can’t believe we did it ... Exhibit A was a full team effort—the culmination of a goal from the moment I created FrightVision.

FrightVision was never meant to be just a book series—there are plenty of those. FrightVision was always meant to be bigger than that, something for kids to be part of—to feel connected to. And that is what Exhibit A has done!

Exhibit A was a writing contest for kids 8-12 years old. To enter the contest, kids had to create a spooky story no longer than 1000 words.

This contest evolved from some amazing brainstorming sessions with kids at elementary schools around the US. It was the product of awesome and creative kids taking time out of their day to be part of this project, along with educators and parents who all played a role in introducing FrightVision and Exhibit A to their kids.

Wow, just wow!

Kids from all over the world entered this contest and each one who wanted to be acknowledged is noted in this book. Whether their story was printed or not, they all deserve to be proud of themselves for entering a story—that takes guts.

Sixty-eight stories were chosen to be printed in the book ... I met with every kid virtually and talked with them about their story, found out how they came up with their idea, and told them that they were now part of the FrightVision universe.

My editor (I can’t thank her enough) went through each one of these stories with me to help complete the unbelievably difficult task of narrowing down the entries to the ones that are printed in the book. Then, she treated each of these kids like authors and fully edited their stories to fulfill the criteria of the contest.

All of these seemingly unconnected stories play a role in how the whole mystery of the FrightVision series comes together!

This experience has been incredible for me. It was awesome to be able to meet and talk with so many kids who all shared an interest in writing and creating.  I can’t thank all of the proud parents and educators enough for their help in encouraging their kids to be part of Exhibit A. I appreciate all of the amazing emails and messages about kids continuing to write, even after their story was submitted!

I’d also like to thank the FrightVision Board—a group of kids who have been a huge part of FrightVision since its original release. They played a role in the community aspect of Exhibit A, as 100% of the royalties from this book are being donated to charity.

Thank you all ... I am so proud of these young people! I applaud their creativity, imagination, and determination. I hope to keep finding ways to motivate, inspire, and challenge kids, as that is what FrightVision is all about.

The time has finally come to showcase the talent of all these young writers.

Please enjoy their fantastic stories!

Culliver Crantz

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Dearest Visitor,

Welcome ... if this is your first time, you’re in for a treat.

One’s imagination is a powerful thing—so powerful that it often has the ability to bring things to life that others might not have thought possible.

What if using that powerful imagination started off as something meant for good, but then with a little twist, it was better suited for fright?

All of these random ideas will come together somehow ... when the time is right.

Your nightmare is ready. Let’s begin!

Sweetest Dreams,

Crantz

The Red Man

by: Addi Warren, 11, Washburn, WI

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The dream always starts off the same. I’m at a cafe with my friend, Stayce. I don’t know if that’s really her name, because she’s not someone I know in real life. In the beginning of the dream, I always get a friendly, laid-back vibe from her that I enjoy and it puts me at ease.

In this dream, we’re always eating at the cafe, and then I get something on my shirt. I excuse myself and tell her I’m going inside to get some napkins. However, when I go inside ~ that’s when the dream begins to get a bit strange.

When I go inside, a bell rings to let workers know someone has entered the store. A friendly man near the cash register greets me. The cafe is now a convenience store inside with aisles of chips, cookies, and candy.

In one of the aisles near the back of the store, there is a tall, red figure staring at me.

He’s a tall figure that’s about 8-9 feet tall. He is basically skin and bones with no life in his eyes. He’s what you would picture a red mummy to look like under all the bandages. His jaw is slightly hanging off the side of his face, most of his teeth are missing, and there’s deep sockets where his eyes, ears, and nose once were. His arms are extremely elongated and if his arms and hands were completely stretched out, they would reach down to his ankles. This thing that I call The Red Man has a cold gaze that paralyzes me in place.

After some time, I snap out of it, and run back outside. I run towards Stayce as she’s getting up and ready to leave the table to go find me. I frantically yell at her, It’s here, and we have to leave now!

She starts to question me asking, What’s here? and Why we have to leave?

I grab her wrist and motion towards the car that brought her there. We both get in the car. I’m in the driver’s seat and we drive away (in my dream we’re both about 18 years old, even though I’m only 10 years old in real life). We drive at a high speed trying to get away, but The Red Man is always in the rear-view mirror. Stayce can also see the Red Man chasing us. He’s running on all fours, and keeping up with the car. Stayce and I are both terrified. We turn a corner, and he’s suddenly gone. He’s no longer running behind the car.

We think it’s safe to go back to my house. We go inside and up to my room, and we feel safe. The safety is short lived, because we feel a presence in the room. We hear heavy breathing coming from behind us, hitting the backs of our necks. We slowly turn around to find The Red Man standing on my bed, staring down at us. That’s when I wake up.

I have this dream every 3 months or so. I’ve never met Stayce in real life, and in my dream, we’re always older teenagers. I read somewhere that you can’t make up faces in dreams. The faces of people in your dreams are always people you’ve met and seen in real life. That means Stayce is a real person. This makes me wonder if this dream is telling me my future?

The Doll Maker

by: Afegenwi Minang, 11, Hagerstown, MD

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I hate dolls! I screamed, smashing my sister’s doll into a million pieces.

MOOOOM, she screamed.

Soon, mother was in the room yelling at me. You need to learn to play nicely with your sister, she yelled.

Come on Mom, all she ever does is play with dolls. Why can’t she just grow up and learn to play video games?

Ethan! my mother yelled. Your sister is just trying to play.

Yeah, with boring dolls. I muttered in a sarcastic tone.

You know what, since you think you can break your sister’s dolls, you are going to go down and help out with the doll charity. When those words left her mouth, my jaw dropped. But, I cannot go down there, it’s near the abandoned Doll Factory which is haunted by the spirit of Mr. Gray.

You may be wondering who Mr. Gray is. There once lived a boy named Grayson Millard. This boy loved dolls, but he was always being bullied because he loved to play with them. This did not stop Grayson from one day opening up his own doll factory. For over twenty years, his factory made dolls for orphans. Sadly, protesters who had hatred for dolls, came armed with torches, put his factory into flames and chased Mr. Grayson through the factory up to the rooftop. There, the fire consumed him and half of his factory. They thought he was gone forever, that was until three years ago, the town decided it was in their best interest to knock down the burnt building and build a parking lot. Bulldozers and wrecking balls came to knock it down, only to be swarmed by hundreds of dolls who mercilessly devoured the equipment, including the drivers. Police came to investigate and they were devoured, too.

I pleaded with my mother not to send me to the doll charity, but she would not budge. Come, let's go, and just like that, I was in the car heading straight for a death trap.

Upon arrival, there was a kid sitting by himself on top of a box. He had black spiky hair that was combed to the right, his skin looked shiny and he had a red shirt on. Ummmm, excuse me mam, are you here for a doll? he stammered.

No, I’m actually here with some help, she said, urging me to get out of the car. I peeked outside the car door and gave my mom a cute face in hope of changing her mind. It did not work. She gave me one last look and turned around and left.

Do you like peanut butter cups? he asked, while opening a full box of them. My name is Jayson. Now I know I said it was a death trap, but for now it was heaven, that was until lunch pulled around. Nudging my side, he whispered, Hey, I bet you thirty dollars that you won’t be able to go into the factory for twenty minutes. I almost choked on a piece of chocolate, but then I heard money was involved.

Did you say thirty dollars? I gulped.

He said Yup! I took the bet.

I began preparing myself to go into the old, burnt factory with wooden boards covering the majority of the windows, and suddenly a face appeared. As I turned around to run, the doors swung open. There was a large room with one door at the other end. Looking back to see the face; it had disappeared. Taking a deep breath, I entered. I heard a voice, Ethan, Ethan, it said in an eerie whisper. At first, I thought I was just hearing things in my mind, then I heard it again. Ethan, Ethan, I followed the voice through the next door across the way. It led to a hallway full of dolls. Now a hallway full of dolls would have sent me running, but I was curious as to where that voice was coming from.

As I continued through the hallway, I passed all sorts of life-size dolls, police dolls, artist dolls, construction worker dolls, even a doll that looked like my old teacher Ms. Peg, who had gone missing a year ago. As I walked through the hall, I saw a doll blink. I stopped dead in my tracks as a chill went up my spine. Finally, reaching the other side, I paused, took a deep breath and opened the door. To my surprise, there were machines making dolls. How? I thought, standing there with my jaw open. One machine made faces, another made parts, while the third constructed them. Startled, I heard a familiar voice. Jayson? I see you made it through the factory, Jayson said, as all the dolls looked in my direction.

Is this a prank? I asked.

Jayson gives a creepy smile, These are my friends!! At that point, Jayson’s arms, legs and head went rolling across the floor. Oooops,'' Jayson said, trying to put his body back together. So, you think you can hurt my friends and get away with it!" he yelled.

The chills came back. My whole body felt it. I was frozen in my steps and could not utter a scream. My feet felt like jelly. I ran as the dolls began chasing me. Going through multiple doors led me deeper into the factory.

You can’t escape! You are mine!!!

I burst through a door on the roof in the exact spot Mr. Gray died. The dolls blocked the way out. A tall body began to form. It was Mr. Gray. That's when the dolls leaped and pinned me down. I screamed and yelled, but could not get away. With tears running down my face, I could see a blurry figure appearing. It was a woodsman doll with an axe. He picked it up and CHOP!! My sister jolted me out of sleep. I was drenched in sweat. I got up, took her by her hand and said, Let's go play with your dolls.

The Girl in the Lake

by: Alexis Myers, 12, Hebron, IN

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The murky water gave people the impression that the lake was empty, but many things lurked beneath the surface. Abby untied the ancient rowboat. She didn’t want to go across the lake, but she had to. Her younger brother had left the boathouse’s lights on. Now Abby had to go and turn them off. The old building sat on the other side of the lake. It was only half a mile away. She pushed the boat into the water. A dull light reflected along the waves. The world froze. Goosebumps rose on her arms. Then she saw it.

Beneath the water, a child’s face glared up at her. Her knotted blonde hair flowed around her head. The face vanished before Abby could blink. Abby shook her head, muttering, I couldn’t have seen anything. It had to be the reflection of the moon. She grabbed her stuffed animal, stepped into the boat and sat down.

Seaweeds drifted through the water making ripples appear on the otherwise smooth surface. Abby positioned her stuffed tiger on the tip of the boat. The old toy had faded stripes and a small hole on its back. Sitting in the middle of the boat, she picked up the wooden oars and began paddling. She wanted to get back soon so she could finish baking the apple pie for her grandmother. The older woman almost never visited and the treat was her favorite dessert. Abby paddled faster. She was almost to the middle.

The lake was too deep to measure, so most of the time she wore a life jacket. Today she had forgotten to take one with her. Since she was a good swimmer, she wasn’t worried. This was the first time she had been alone on the boat. Her mother had shown her how to use the old rowboat years ago. She could remember that day perfectly. Her mother sat behind her and told her what to do. The air was still and the heat was almost unbearable.

But today it was chilly and it was getting dark. Fog drifted through the forest. It was over halfway to the shore on the other side. The dull light from the boathouse and the tiny sliver of moonlight were the only things that illuminated the water.

The thick fog began to surround the lake. It crept closer. And closer. It covered everything in a white haze.

Abby could only see about half a foot in front of her. The dim light was now barely visible in the fog. She grabbed her stuffed tiger. Which way was she going? She glanced around and everything in every direction looked the same.

The light of the boathouse had been smothered by fog. Abby closed her eyes. She gripped the edge of the boat. Why hadn’t she gone back for her life vest? What if she was trapped here? What if they never found her? Go away, she whispered to the fog.

Then everything did. Everything was silent. The soft buzzing of insects and croaking of frogs ceased. Something scratched at the bottom of the rowboat.

Abby opened her eyes. The sound was quiet. At first, she almost didn’t hear it. Abby slid to the center of the boat. The sound came again. Louder. And louder.

The planks under Abby vibrated. They slammed into her legs. Whatever was under the boat wasn’t going to give up. Not until it got what it wanted. The scratching became so loud it sounded like it was trying to dig through the boat. Then it stopped.

Abby tried not to make any noise. A minute passed and she still didn’t hear anything. Slowly, she crept towards the side of the boat. Abby hesitated, unsure if she should look over the edge. She picked up one of the oars and inched closer. She reached the side of the boat and peeked over the wooden lip. Her heart raced.