Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-35165970-20190103181613

He used to work as an administrator on a creative writing site which focused on horror stories of many different genres. The site allowed users to post their own stories as long as they were up to quality standards, and his job was to delete the ones that were not, as well as polish up existing stories with the power of editing. He deleted spam pages and undid vandalism on a daily basis to keep the site as pristine as possible. Nobody asked him or paid him to do it – his work was entirely voluntary, and something he dedicated time to purely for his own enjoyment.

Part of the reason he continued this work in his spare time was because of his passion for creativity. He was a writer himself who specialised in horror, considered one of the greatest authors on the site. One of his desires was to benefit writers all around the globe so they could come closer to producing works of fiction as high-quality as his own, giving them a platform to exhibit their work without the strict barriers to entry of publishing companies. He felt proud to contribute to a fast-growing library of horror literature, attracting an ever-increasing reader base.

It would be fine to just leave it there, but that would be masking the truth. The desire to promote creativity brought him to the site, but it wasn’t what kept him there. It wasn’t the factor that kept pulling him back, day after day, making him spend hours in front of his computer refreshing for new pages he could pass through the filter – no innocent passion could fuel a strange addiction like that.

The site housed the works of many respectable authors, however the vast majority of pages were created by users with no experience of writing in a professional context unlike himself. This meant that every so often, he would have the pleasure of deleting a story which was grammatically up to standards but had a fatal flaw with its plotline, most commonly clichés, overpowered characters that blatantly existed solely to satisfy sexual urges, wildly unrealistic plots and twist endings that were duff but seemed like someone had tried really hard.

Once their stories were deleted, that’s when violation of the rules began, and they would try to reupload, message complaints and abuse at him, create new accounts and angry posts to vent their frustration. At first, it was just a matter of quoting the site rules, as if to say, ‘your ignorance and low IQ isn’t worth my time’. But slowly, he began to discover that the rush of satisfaction he obtained from inexplicitly belittling those with less experience, intelligence and less ability to write as well as him was incredibly entertaining. He knew it would be outrageous to accuse him of such malicious intentions when all he was doing was editing a website, contributing to expanding creativity, and it was the ego boost that everyone would congratulate him for.

The real thrill came from the challenge of bringing these naïve and stubborn people down in the most creative and witty ways possible, using the power of sarcasm and humour to attack everything from their usernames to spelling mistakes. Using their own words and mistakes against themselves, feeling their fear and disbelief when he deleted new accounts they would create, unaware that their IP addresses could be traced.

The crack that got him hooked was the ability to assert his intellectual superiority on those few people, which he didn’t get many chances to do in his own life. He had a secret method for writing brilliant horror, one few of them had, which was why it was so difficult for them to create work that would live up to his own. In life, many were smarter and older and more cultured than he was. But here, in a place full of amateur horror writers, he was looked up to like a deity. His talent for writing horror in such vivid detail surpassed that of most users he knew, and warranted him a special respect few others received in this community.

He had just deleted a story which had been reuploaded multiple times by a username he’d seen too frequently. It was the typical Mary-Sue kind of shit he and his fellow admins spent much time poking fun at. It was incredibly sad how these people had no idea how to write. He’d seen this crap more times than he could count, and he knew the drill. One, delete. Two, quote site rules’. Three, ban account. He knew it would be back, and he was always excited to see what form it would take next.

It took a while, but he was right. A new page had been created within five minutes of the account being banned. He felt the adrenaline pumping through his veins again, and he was ready for a long witty fight, preparing to call his other admins to join in the fun.

The new story title was, ‘Think Twice Before Deleting This’. A threat, huh? It made him laugh out loud, alone in his room. He couldn’t help it, these people were just so ridiculous, thinking they were so big with their clever, scary threats. He opened the page to take a look, his mouse immediately hovering over the ‘delete’ button. If they thought he’d spare them a second thought then they were wrong. He began reading.

Think Twice Before Deleting This

''This is written for the administrator only. You know who you are, and I know you’re laughing at this right now. After all, its in your nature to laugh off other people’s emotions.''

For Christ’s sake, he thought, don’t write in second person unless you can actually do it properly.

''And don’t you complain about my second person narrative again. Fine, it’s overused, cringeworthy and not that scary. But how else am I supposed to threaten you?''

Fair enough.

''Now I know you want to delete this because it violates every fucking rule on the site. You barely even skim past the first few lines before you decide something’s to be deleted. Before you decide you could do so much better. But the fact that you’ve made it this far means something’s caught your attention. You want to see what this is about, and what I could possibly do. Admit it, you’re not going to press that button before you’ve made it all the way through this page – we both know it, so just relax and let yourself continue.''

He raised his eyebrows in amusement as he read further.

''Now, let me tell you a little about myself. I was born and raised in a good and loving family. I had everything I could have wanted materialistically, but all I wanted was for my ideas to be known and appreciated. I had stories in my imagination and wonderful characters which I knew various readers might love and others might hate. Like every child that lived in their own imaginary worlds, I had a dream that someday people would experience the same enjoyment from it that I did.''

If you’re going to make a threat you might as well make it brief, he thought. Don’t need your life story.

''When I discovered your site, I was ecstatic. I thought it was the place where I could finally let my creations become known. But you stopped me. Told me my work wasn’t scary, that people mocked my characters that I thought were the epitome of terror. ''

Because your stories were shit and the site has rules.

You were the obstacle between the author and the readers who so desperately wished to appreciate my ideas.

Yeah right. Name just one of your fans who’s over the age of sixteen and I’ll eat my words, he thought.

''It’s all your fault I’ve had to go through this suffering. Did you know that I almost broke my keyboard out of sheer rage and pain the first time you deleted my story? It’s not just that I lost hours upon hours of work, which I had no way of saving because Microsoft Word wasn’t installed on my computer. I can’t afford it, and my financial status is no fault of my own. I felt offended and rejected, like I wasn’t good enough. It was hard work writing that, you selfish prick.''

How incredibly sad.

''Alright, I can tell you still don’t have an ounce of sympathy for me, but I’ve said what needs to be said. Now for the threat that you’ve been dying to see.''

He shook his head. Go on - try me.

''After you deleted what I considered to be my greatest masterpiece, I began to read your work. I wanted to see how far I needed to go. That’s when I understood that you weren’t normal, and the things that came out of your imagination aren’t things that lay people like me could ever hope to recreate. That shit is beyond horror – it fucked me up mentally. I lie stiff and motionless in my bed when your creations come back to haunt me at night. I couldn’t understand how you did it, it wasn’t like anything I’d ever seen before.''

''After a period of careful consideration, I finally realised the key to your success, if you can even call it that. It was your description. Your description was of a truly remarkable standard. I knew your ability to write in such vivid detail wasn’t human. It was unfair that you had to set such high standards for us all, especially us horror writers who have little personal experience to draw upon. I so desperately wanted to know your secret, a secret that separated you from us crappy amateur authors, who struggle to capture anyone’s attention.''

''As you can see my IP address, I can find yours too. I have my sources. Interesting to see we were actually pretty close, so I decided to pay you a visit. Hear any strange noises at home last week? You would have if you were paying attention. But you were too preoccupied with hiding that body somewhere it wouldn’t be found. No wonder you can describe gore and violence in such brilliant detail – it’s not as hard to do when you’ve experienced it first-hand. No wonder you have the ability to scar your readers with words like no horror movie could ever achieve, when you make us experience what you see first-hand as well.''

''I managed to sneak into your house to obtain video evidence of where you obtained the idea for your last story from. Yes, that story. You know which one I’m talking about, and you know the truth behind how you wrote that. I can imagine that many feared it was inspired by real events, but you insisted it was just a product of your imagination. The human imagination can only be so powerful until a certain point, after which we are left on our own.''

''I know a thing or two about how to fuck around with technology. I’ve hacked stuff before, and once again my skills have served me well, to get revenge on you for disrespecting my hard work. The video which clearly shows the real-life inspiration for your last story has been set up to be automatically emailed to every user on this site as soon as you press that ‘delete’ button. I’ve already given readers a small clue in this post, but only you and I know the true extent of the horrors in that video.''

''Not only will the police be at your doorstep, but your readers will finally discover the secret behind your work. That’s your greatest fear, isn’t it? Them discovering how you gave them nightmares they would never forget, the method you have been trying to conceal for your entire career as an author.''

''Whether you decide to take this seriously is up to you, but you have been warned. Anyway, you know the drill.''

End of page. He began to move his mouse away from the ‘delete’ button slowly. 