Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company! discussion

Ruthie suggested this game :)

The Rules:

1) One person will write a paragraph (no word limit) without specifying the genre, plot or anything about the story.
2) The next person will continue the story with another paragraph--twists, subplots and other characters are allowed as long as it's contained in one paragraph.
3) If one person decides to end the story, she/he must write a new paragraph for a new story but here's the catch all paragraphs must end in a cliffhanger (...) except for the ending.

****

The crowds had gathered in front of the stage, waiting for the flag ceremony to start. At first, they didn't seem to mind being under the scorching heat of the sun, but when they realized that several minutes had passed already and that the leader failed to appear, a few of them started to look for a shade. A noise came from the left side of the building...

It sounded like the screech of a bat with a tinge of a human scream. The crowd turned their heads to face the building in unison. Silence blanketed the atmosphere. "What was-" someone started to say, when they were interrupted by an enormous, hulking shadow galloping out of the building's doors. The shadow headed straight towards the crowd...

The shadow headed straight towards the crowd, swooped down upon them, then soared straight up right before grasping the child in the bright red cap who sat on the shoulders of his father. Panic. Yelling. Running. Crying. A piercing scream echoed throughout the atmosphere (this one human in nature) - the sound of a mother who has lost her sole descendant. What do you call a parent who had lost a child? There are widows and widowers and orphans but there is no name befitting one whose situation defies the natural order. The first go before the last, the old die before the young. The distraught couple, too shocked to move, doomed to be trampled by the panicked crowd that has bruised and broken other members within the masses, is pulled away by a cloaked stranger who smelled like...

The stranger smelled like a cigar store. In their confusion, as he guided them from the premises to a smoky pub across the street, they glimpsed his polished black boots, his vest and gold watch chain, his cape’s satin lining. From behind them, in the scattering crowd, came the sound of police whistles, and there was a distant wail of approaching sirens.

Officer Maddox blared her siren, signalling cars to get out of her way as she floored the accelerator, rushing to try to save the child. She was under the assumption that there was something left to save.

She stumbled upon an old and abandoned warehouse. As she glanced around, she couldn't help but feel someone watching her every move. Ignoring the goosebumps prickling her skin, she opened the makeshift door and marched inside, only to be assaulted by a stench that made her stomach roll. Before she took another step, she covered her nose with her hand, while the other grabbed a flashlight from her belt pouch. As she fidgeted with the portable device, her eyes began to sting and she felt the tears welling up. Even with trembling hands, she was still able to turn on the flashlight. The sight in front of her caused her to scream...

Like marionettes they hung, their small bodies frozen in ghoulish parodies of movement; they would never move on their own again. Eleven, twelve, thir- as she tried to count the number of dead children dangling from the ceiling, her torch fell from hands gone suddenly numb. Blood spurted from the corner of her mouth and her rapidly-dimming eyes gazed down at the object protruding from her chest...

Death was a feeling that she was unaccustomed to. It didn't hurt necessarily, just left her feeling empty. After seeming hours of time passed, she realized that she could still see, could still move. Maybe she wasn't dead after all. She looked down at her recently impaled chest only to find it without mar. "What's going on?"...