No free game here. This thread is to showcase the fine writing skills of fellow gogers :)
The original giveaway/contest is HERE

Not all mentioned the game they were referring to in the stories, but some are recognizable :)

First of all, the winners (no particular order):

By Thespian
It was the stench that awoke her from exhaustion, pushing through her nostrils to reach her brain, like a butcher's hook in the flesh of a res, ripping her from his uneasy slumber. The Change had occurred while she slept! She struggled to overcome her panic, gathering the fragile remains of her self-control to contain the hoarse sobs coming from her throat. She had to keep moving! The stench was increasing by the minute, which now seemed stink waves hitting her aching head like ax blows. She stood leaning on the suddenly oozing wall of the corridor, cradling against her chest the dirty, bloody bandage covering the ruin which had been converted her right hand, and with faltering steps groped her way in the darkness...

By Andanzas
The woman felt dirty; she always felt dirty when the night arrived. She took her clothes as fast as she could, as if they were burning her skin, and prepared a bath. She cleaned all her body carefully and methodically. She took a knife and cut her hair in one quick blow; then she started to skin her head, her chest, her legs. Her skin floated in the red water. When she got out of the bathtub, she contemplated herself in front of the mirror. Satisfied, with two fingers she removed both eyes. The woman smiled. At long last, she was finally ready to leave the house.
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A little comment by me, I liked these two, because they got me interested in what might happen next. The questions I asked myself were "What? Why?" and that was what I expected from the beginnings. The two are even more or less. Thespian's is a bit more elaborate with nicer wording, but with mistakes ;) Andanzas's is simpler in form but correct.
The other entries were also quite good. I really liked BlueMooner's, Azulit's and Mondo84's stories. Shadormirage's was especially nice, but felt like a complete mini-story rather than an opening paragraph ;)
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Now for the rest of the great stories (again no particular order) PART ONE (because the post is too big):

By EC-
I was face to face with him now, breathing slowly as I knew it was finally over. I dropped the blood-stained hammer, and the wooden thud served as a death knell. Nobody thinks their life's last visage will be a looming whacko in a rubber mask, but life isn't predictable. "No, please, please you don't have..!" Enough. I straddled his chest, positioned my thumbs over his eyes and pressed firmly. The spongy balls flexed under the pressure for only a second, then burst into a mix of clear and red fluid. He prepared to scream as the transluscent goop slid down into his nose and mouth, and his cries warped into a sticky gurgle. As his struggle began to cease, I was already thinking about the next phone call.

By Tallima
My children will be fine. Craig had them and he had the axe. But I'm not sure about Sarah. I left her under the care of just four children, but she's only got a steak knife with which to defend herself. And that's exactly where he's going. It has to be. There are only three of us left and I just left Craig and my cabin behind. So what more can I do than pick up a torch and a machete and go hunting for that sadistic zombie, Jason. I'll find him before he.... Oh crap. I can hear Craig screaming. He was there all along. Got to run. Got to run faster. Faster. Damn you legs! Faster!

By langurmonkey
I woke up around 8PM, as usual. I ate breakfast, used the internet a little bit and prepared for my night security job. The night was cool and windy, just the way I like it. While walking to the subway station, I ran into an acquaintance. We both said "Hi' to each other and talked for a few minutes, then I told her, I have to go. My subway train arrived and I stepped in. I sat down on an empty seat and started thinking about my ex girlfriend. After some time, I decided not to think about her anymore because the thoughts were making me sad. I started thinking about this new PC game, that is coming out next week. An RPG. Then I noticed, I was sweating. It was really hot and humid. I looked out of one of the windows and there was a red glow. Finally, the subway train stopped. I got off and looked at my watch. "Shit, only 5 minutes before I have to be at work" I said to myself. Then I looked up and was confused. I wasn't in a subway station. The walls were a patchwork of fresh human corpses.

By mondo84
I am healing these souls, freeing them of the shackles of their troubled flesh. They are lost. I am bringing them to salvation. I am not a monster. I am a healer and scientist. I am the answer to these people's problems. How dare Paul accuse me of taking my methods too far? Has he developed a better solution? No, he hasn't. They are all cowards. My colleagues would rather do what is easy than do what is necessary. I am a pragmatist. These patients need real help, not the naive treatments clouded by false academic superiority.

Young Marilyn is still convinced we killed her baby and subject to extreme hysteria. She hasn't yet responded well to the heat chamber, but more sessions should change that. Lavinia thinks she is Mary, Queen of Scots. What kind of mad delusion is that? She may be ready for the iron maiden. I'll have to ponder this further. Lorena's ECT treatments seem to be slowly cracking the shell of her depression. And who could forget young Abraham? The sweet lad resolutely thinks he is a girl. He has left me little choice, but I am ready. My previous experiments on the other children are promising for the upcoming surgery. I hold nothing back. It must be done. If my Malcolm thought the same way, my treatment would be no different. The healing of the mind and purification of the soul transcend emotional restrictions.

What I am giving these patients is a chance to escape their torment. Their pain, much of it self-inflicted, has created delusions and mental barriers for them. But in order to break through these barriers and escape flesh, they must pass through the unmeasurable threshold of real pain. Only through this extreme pain can these poor souls understand peace. Only then will they understand what real pain truly is. And I will have done them a great service.

By sonix90
Suffocating underwater, he patiently waited to finally escape his nightmares, slowly drifting into a deep, eternal sleep, only to eventually wake up, alive. The area he found himself in felt familiar, but the body didn't match with his rapidly fading memories. His train of though was no longer human. Just before his brain readjusted, he realized he's been transformed into a naked, blind pile of antromorphic flesh, with it's arms tangled under the skin. The last remains of his human brain ordered him to scream, but the new body didn't respond. Now, he only had his mind set on hunting, even though his shape resembled more of a wounded pray. Soon, after hearing the sound of footsteps in the distance, he immediately rushed in the right direction, about to greet the new guest of Silent Hill...

By shadowmirage
It was the book that found me. Bound in flesh and bone. Words inked in crimson; echoing the voices of the damned from aeons ago.
As an aspiring literature student and antiquarian, I was prone to long meanderings through the New England countryside. The landscape of my favourite author had always fascinated me; the morbid history calling me to one disturbing tale after another - until one day, I stumbled upon the quiet town of Tiwerton.
Pallid and smothered by a pale fog, the town had a certain je ne sais quoi that attracted me, despite the famed inhospitality of its undoubtedly inbred residents.
A contact of mine, a fellow student, had set me on the hunt, referring to a mysterious and rare book - allegedly an unpublished tome by none other than my patron saint of horror.
A small horse-drawn carriage, a quaint anachronism, drew me to my destination; an old Rhode island manor belonging to an eccentric man of questionable repute.
As I drew closer and closer to the residence, it seemed as if the world behind me ceased to exist, but perhaps more than that, my entire past seemed to fade into obscurity, like a dream upon awakening.
In a state of sudden delirium, I hopped off and walked to the door, never glancing behind me, never noticing the carriage fading away into the mist with my luggage and my last hope of escape.
Six times I knocked on the door, before I found myself walking through the entrance. The dismally dishevelled manor seemed abandoned, and yet I kept strolling through it in a trance. I heard murmured voices in the next room, and then the next, until I found myself in the library.
Eagerly, I quickened my pace, the blood pounding in my ears. I stepped over the contorted corpse of the mutilated old man, fingering my letter-opener, and found a corridor in-between the bookcases. The voices echoed louder, and a delicious ecstasy almost overtook me.
At the last second, some instinctive fear awakened in my mind, and I tried to remember who I was and where I was...
The book. Bound in flesh and bone. It stood before me. Exuding unimaginable power. I heard the ancients call me. A sudden rhapsody of terror swept through me as I stooped to pick it up, my hands soiling the pages in glutinous rouge as I flipped the leathery leaves and read. Read. Read. Read. Red. Blood. Flesh. Bone.
Hear me Mantorok! I have come to do your bidding. Yes, yes. I am your faithful servant. Sir, sir? Do you hear me sir? You are under arrest. Kill them. Yes.

WOW, the writing here from GOGers... Very impressive.

Good stuff in here. Well done guys!

Sorry for the typo in the name of the thread ;p

PART TWO

By DieRuhe
The night began, as it often does, with the cessation of light. He closed the blinds, let the black curtains fall and gingerly got into bed, moving slowly under the covers, not wanting to disturb the silence that begins, as it so often does, with the cessation of noise. He observes that nightfall and silence often accompany one another, and having a great respect for both, wishes to disturb neither. But on this night, as he slowly extends his legs and feet, he feels that there is something else in bed with him, and he finds this disturbing. There should be nothing.

By BlueMooner
Another failure! I sighed in resignation and turned to the sink. Fingering my throat, I teased out yet another vomitus ejaculation. People who say it tastes better going down have obviously never eaten zombie flesh. As the heaving slowly abated, my stomach demanded attention. It alternated between trying to thank me with orgasmic pleasure at being empty, and warning me with stabbing pains not to do that again. Not an eighteenth time. As I stared at the familiar cocktail of partially digested rotting flesh splattered all over the grey metallic sink, my wandering thoughts reached a sad conclusion. Mother was right. I should have stuck with cannibalism.

By iainmet
Raining again, that musky damp feeling that chills you to the bone. The cold inner feeling you get from the humidty of the ever increasing thunder storm. Why did the editor want to send me out to the middle of nowhere just to interview some stuck up aristocrat tonight of all nights. I should imagine I will see the Wainwright manor any minute if I follow this road, hopefully they will have a hot drink and towels ready for when I arrive....if of course they are expecting me given the short notice I received for the interview.

By gameon
A civil war has broken out. Fleeing desperately, a prisoner has escaped. There is nowhere to hide, but suddenly he finds a secret pathway that leads to a mysterious castle. The prisoner is tired from all the running, and has no choice but to take refuge inside. It looks abandoned, derelict, perfect as to not raising suspicion. In fact, no-one had ever mentioned this place before. At the cave entrance there is a menacing skull and crossbone, with a key attatched to one of the eye sockets. There is a message engraved beside it which reads: "Dare you enter the Shadowgate?"

By Azilut
My pastor always told me that Hell was a place of infinite despair. As usual, he had no idea what he was talking about. I have come to learn that Hell is a place of hope - infinitesimal, unreachable, impossible hope. The desperate hope of a grieving mother that her child, now missing for the second week, might still turn up alive and safe somewhere (she won't). The hopeless hope of a man whose organs are rotting inside him that one more dose of radiation might put the cancer into remission (it won't). A despairing man can give up, let his fate roll over him, relax into his destruction. That is why no matter how sadistic AM's tortures become, He always holds out that faintest ray of hope - that if I am just a little faster, just a little smarter, that if I just resist the pain a little longer, maybe I can escape Him. An absurd notion - AM will never let me out of here, never even let me die. I know this. But I will keep struggling forever, keep suffering forever, because I am damned by hope.

By Narushima
I was the only one in the bus that brought me here. The driver, like all the locals, only answered my questions with a few grunts. Investigating this robbery is not going to be easy. But there is more than that. This town feels like it’s wrapped in a constant black mist. I’ve yet to see the sun and the sea is so black that it doesn’t even show the moon’s reflection. Something isn’t right, here. The people are more than your average secluded fishermen ; they seem almost inhuman. Most of the houses seem abandoned, but I’ve seen people come out of them at night to gather in this strange church bearing the name ‘Dagon’. And I heard them chant in a language that seems to come from another world, another dimension perhaps, another realm of understanding…

Very nice! I think I like Azilut's best.