Alright! The god/dess short story was lost during the move, so here's the replacement short story. It's only a page long, and it's supposed to be a horror thing. There is a slightly graphic scene in it, and it has been shortened. The original plan was to do this one ten pages (the extended edition) and one that's five pages (classroom edition) but I got lazy. Either way, I think it's a decent piece. Throwing the rest of it in there would have been too confusing for a short story.

BEAST
                I sat in my bed playing World of Warcraft (WOW), as I did every Friday night. It was my way of winding down at the end of a long week. My long, straight blonde hair was tied back, and I was wearing pajama pants with a Taco Casa t-shirt. My guild was trying to kill monsters in the game, so I was continuously pressing various keys in an attempt to help them. Being a Shaman, my job was to keep everyone else alive, and honestly, I think I’m pretty damn good at it.

               Out of nowhere, my phone chirped with a text message. Frowning, I pushed the home button to turn my screen on. No one texted me on Friday nights, because everyone I spoke to was on WOW with me. Casting a quick glance around my dark room, then looking back to the phone, I found that there were no new messages. Being that my phone was a Chinese knock-off of a Samsung S3, it was fairly normal, so I turned the screen off and tossed it back down by my legs. I returned to World of Warcraft.

               Several minutes later, the phone chimed again. I told my guild that I’d be back in a few minutes, and picked the phone back up. This time, there was a message. When I opened it, I realized it was from a number I didn’t recognize. “Get out of your house. Go into town or something,” it said, “You’re not safe inside,”

               Just then, there was a loud crash downstairs, followed by another text. “Too late,” this one said. Fear began to overtake me, and I sat frozen in my bed. Thankfully I’d shut my computer, so maybe whatever it was downstairs wouldn’t notice any lights.

               Silence followed the crash, and after about a minute, I heard my mom and my little sister screaming. Shrieking. I remained paralyzed on my bed, praying that it was some kind of sick prank. There were tearing sounds. Breaking sounds. Then, two thumps. Like something heavy hitting the ground. The entire time, they were screaming. At least, until the tearing sounds, and their screams were cut off, followed by gurgles. More silence, then my dad screaming in our pasture. It was faint, but I could still hear the breaking sounds. Thankfully, I was spared the tearing.

               Hoping that nothing was wrong – but knowing better through some kind of suppressed instinct – I climbed downstairs. Immediately, I noticed the door was broken in and several windows were busted. I didn’t need light to see that, or the two human shapes on my living room floor. I was thankful I’d put my house shoes on, because the windows had been knocked inward rather than outward, so glass littered the floor as I made my way to the light. A sight that made my stomach churn greeted me once I’d turned it on, already disgusted by something squishy I’d felt under my feet.

               My mom and my sister – Heather – were lying on the floor, dead. Their eyes were wide with fear, and their throats were torn out. Shredded, I guess you could say. They looked as if they’d drowned on their own blood, which explained the tearing and gurgling sounds. My mom’s torso had been torn open. Her heart was missing, as was her stomach, and her intestines had been strewn around the room like a dog would do to trash. Everything that had been inside her, as well as some of the stuff still inside her, looked as if it had been run through a meat grinder. Looking at the bottom of my shoe, I realized the squishy thing I’d stepped in had been some of her entrails.

               A low growl came from the kitchen, and slowly, I turned around. A beast stood up from a crouching position and coming to a height of at least eight feet. It was furry, and looked like a wolf-human crossover. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was a werewolf, but I thought they didn’t exist at the time. In its hand was a human heart. My mother’s.

               Just as the beast started towards me, a boy about my age burst through the back door in the kitchen. The beast whirled to face him, and the boy began fighting with it.

That’s the last thing I remember before everything went black.