I don't think so. Besides, I could argue Edgar Allan Poe or Stephen King is predictable. I mean you know something horrible is going to happen.
This is something I originally had in my now deleted journal. I wrote this like four years ago and it's pretty awful actually, but this is a better example of what I write.
Quote:
Cindy is a little girl of seven. She lies comfortably on her soft hardwood mattress. She makes the usual noises that a little girl would do. Her mother opens the door and loving says “GET YOUR STUPID BUTT ASLEEP!”
Cindy cowers under her blanket as her mother gently slams the door. Cindy whispers “I didn't mean to do it. I was only playing with Tommy when I stabbed him with a fork. It didn't hurt much. He only needed five stitches.” Cindy continues talking to herself. “We were only playing tea time and Tommy hit me with Mrs. Beasley. I only stabbed him once.”
Mother enters the room again. “ARE YOU TALKING TO YOURSELF AGAIN MISSY? ONLY CRAZY PEOPLE TALK TO THEMSELVES!”
Cindy in terror sobs “I didn't mean to hurt Tommy Mommy. I’m sorry.”
Mother just rolls her eyes “Oh for Christ sakes Cindy you didn't hurt Tommy. It was just a plastic fork !”
“You, you mean he didn't need stitches?”
“He didn't even go to the hospital. Is he telling you stories again? If he did he isn't getting his Spam for dessert tomorrow.”
“Can I have Spam tomorrow?”
“Of course you can honey. Now go to sleep!” Mother slams the door and Cindy can hear her singing merrily “I’m a little teapot short and stout.”
Cindy now feels better as she goes to sleep knowing that she won’t be deprived of her Spam after her usual dinner of Strawberry Ice Cream and chocolate covered worms.
Everything is right with the world as Cindy starts to doze off to sleep. Unfortunately Cindy forgot to cover her left legs with her trusty blanket. Just before going into slumberland Cindy looks over and her fears have come to fruition. A tiny red devil with horns and a goatee has waited for this moment at last. He throws his pitchfork directly at poor Cindy’s leg. Cindy quickly covers herself just in time for the sharp pitchfork to bounce off her blanket harmlessly. The devil shakes his fist and disappears in a puff of baby powder dust.
Cindy now is mad as she grumbles. “Now what can happen next?”
Just than a large spider with a handlebar mustache…
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