Chill factor

In Competition No. 2793 you were invited to submit a short story featuring an animal written in the style of James Herbert.

Herbert, much loved by teenage boys of a certain generation, died last month and the tributes came in thick and fast. Crime writer Ian Rankin spoke for many when he tweeted: ‘Sad news about James Herbert — as a teen, I scared myself silly reading him. He led me to King, Barker, others. RIP.’

Most popular

Jawad Iqbal

Blue Origin’s all-female space flight was a step backwards for feminism

Herbert’s first novel, The Rats, published in the mid-Seventies, sold 100,000 copies within the first fortnight. Its stars were flesh-eating mutant rodents the size of dogs. Your contributions to the genre featured vampire tortoises, homicidal magpies and vengeful badgers.

On the whole, you captured the Grand Master of Horror well. Honourable mentions go to Basil Ransome-Davies, George Simmers, Shirley Curran and Anne du Croz. The prize-winners, printed below, are rewarded with £30 each. Bill Greenwell takes £35.

They moved in an ungainly fashion, arching towards the hospital, bristling across the derelict play-park. The superintendent and the major watched in disbelief as the first caterpillar, with livid red eyes, ripped at the mound of half-frozen corpses unloaded from the morgue. Soon its lumbering accomplices joined in, salivating. Their sections began to swell and throb.
‘How long have we got?’ asked the major.
‘Five minutes.’
‘We may have underestimated the number of carcasses.’ And yes, their process seemed only to have been impeded.
But as body parts flew upwards, there came a rumbling and the beasts began to turn into pupae, huge and hairy. A vicious stillness filled the limb-strewn concourse. The diapause might be only two weeks, yet England would be safe. Flame-throwers moved into position.
‘Oh God,’ murmured the superintendent. ‘Early eclosure.’
‘You mean…?’
His voice was drowned out by the gigantic beating of wings.