Post by Kynella on Sept 28, 2007 21:56:14 GMT -5
Fear my poor excuse for a scary story using the words we were forced to use! [they're underlined!]
* * * * *
It seemed to be just another, quiet night. Except one thing: It was October 31st, also known as HALLOWEEN. And that could only mean one thing—mom and dad dropped the job of taking George out for Trick-or-Treating on me. As if I’d just love to take away my Halloween night bundled in warm clothes while George runs door to door with a pillow case full of future cavities. Yeah, I would just love that. May I add that I’m being so very sarcastic right now!!
The wind blowing and the full moon hovering above us added a nice touch to the Halloween theme that I strongly disliked at this moment. I could see that George was already shivering. Another thank you to Party City for the lightweight and thin pirate costume George had begged my mom to buy him. Of course, she granted his wish like a genie in a lamp. What a spoiled brat.
“Diane, I wanna go home!!!” George began to whine to me when he made me carry his stuffed and bumpy pillow case.
“Fine by me,” I agreed almost immediately, picking up my pace as we went down the sidewalk. “Hey, and maybe some ghosts will see us and eat us before we can get home. I don’t mind being eaten as long as I don’t have to finish that Language Arts paper I haven’t even started on!”
George stared at me. He grinned. “Ghosts don’t eat people!”
I glared back at him. “How do you know?”
“They spook people,” George corrected me, beaming at me like he was a professional on this subject. “Have you ever heard of Ophelia that lived up in that creepy old mansion at Plumbell Road?”
It took me a minute, but I remember some little kids laughing and whispering about something about that old white house on Plumbell Road. But really, I could care less.
“Nope!” I said with a sour edge. “But you’re probably going to tell me the stupid story anyways, right?”
George pouted. I knew him too well.
I shrugged. “Go ahead, George. I’m listening.”
He seemed to giggle at me, but I wasn’t paying enough attention to notice.
“Once upon a time...” he started in a dramatic voice. “There was a family that lived up in that house...the Charming family.”
I laughed slightly before unleashing my horrible pun, “how charming.”
George continued on. “Well, the story is that Lady Ophelia Charming started to realize that things were...getting out of hand.” He paused for effect. “She started to hear strange voices at night before she went to bed...telling to do evil and wicked things to her family. Ophelia started to think she was possessed, but she was too scared to say anything to her family.
“Ophelia was only fourteen. She had a younger brother and her father and mother...a normal family, right? Well one day after her fifteenth birthday, Ophelia started to hear these voices. They told her that she should kill her family...that they would judge her for what she heard and saw—”
“What she heard and saw?” I asked, confused.
“Oh!” George gasped. “I forgot that part. Ophelia was seeing things, too. Like, an old woman rocking in her mother’s rocking chair that no one else could see or hear, and Ophelia even met a ghost that roamed around her attic named Lucy. Ophelia was the only one who could hear the loud floor creaks from the spirits.”
“Well, anyways. Ophelia was freaking out, you know? She started to see more and more ghosts and hear them...and yet, she befriended the one ghost, Lucy. Lucy explained that she among the other ghosts experienced the same insanity that Ophelia was going through...and that the only way to solve everything was to kill Ophelia’s little brother.”
I could see the fear in George’s eyes.
“...did...she...” I stuttered, scared as much as he was. “...do it?”
He nodded stupidly back at me. “Yeah. She waited until a really heavy rainstorm came, so that her little brother’s screams wouldn’t be heard.”
I paused. This story was getting freaky.
“After Ophelia killed her own little brother, and began to see less ghosts roaming around her. She was so ecstatic; she didn’t feel the littlest guilt for taking her brother’s life with a rusty blade.
“But it wasn’t enough. She could still see many ghosts. So, Ophelia asked Lucy what she should do. And Lucy told her that the ghosts and spirits would leave her alone for good if she killed her mother.”
I gasped. “And you got this story from school?”
“No,” he scowled. “Pete told me!”
“Who’s Pete?” I asked, unfamiliar with the name.
“Can I just go back to the story?” he pleaded.
I raised my palms in surrender. “Sure, sure.”
“ANYWAYS,” he started impatiently, “Ophelia killed her mother in the dead of the night, with the same rusty blade she used to kill her little brother. And the next morning, she could only see Lucy and a four other spirits. Of course, Ophelia asked Lucy what she could do to make her completely sane and normal again, and Lucy replied in an evil laugh, ‘Kill your father!’.”
“And that stupid girl killed her dad, too, huh?” I questioned, stating the obvious. I snuck a Mini Crunch Bar from George’s bag and took a bite out of it.
“Well, yeah. She killed him as soon as he questioned where Ophelia’s mother was at. She got the same rusty knife and stabbed him.
And from there, she though for sure that the ghosts and spirits were gone forever. She was partially right. Even Lucy was gone from her sight and she can never hear anything else in her empty house. But one thing remained.
A blackbird. She was seeing the same blackbird on the tree in her front yard for the first time. The bird would stare at her and she feared to approach it. But when she decided she would, she made the biggest mistake of her life.”
He paused for a moment, while I took a deep breath.
“So, back to the story... Ophelia approached the bird and demanded a reason why she was hearing and seeing things. The bird just stared blankly at her, and she stared back. But the real mistake was when she heard the blackbird’s caw.”
George grimaced at me. I blinked back at him. “What? What was so special about the blackbird’s caw?”
“Have you ever heard a blackbird caw at you?” George asked me. “It sounds like tormented crying.”
“So?” I cringed. I didn’t really care what a bird sounding like.
“So, the caw wasn’t any ordinary crying sound...” His voice became a whisper. “...it was the screams of her family. When she stabbed them.”
He paused and smiled grimly at my scared expression.
“Ophelia knew what she had done, and how evil she really was. She raced back to her home and took the same knife, and struck her heart.”
When I thought he was done, I shuddered.
“Impressed?” he asked, bouncing on his heels as we approached our house.
“Very.”
“Pete told me all about it!”
I stopped walking for a moment, and looked over at the black street at my left. The scratching sound of autumn leaves rustling against the pavement made me think.
“George,” I started, still staring at the street.
George stopped walking and noticed I had stopped doing so a while back. He raced back over to me.
“Yeah?” he asked, panting from the quick sprint.
“What was the name of Ophelia’s dad?”
“Nelson.”
“And her mom?”
“Maria.”
I paused, and looked back at him.
“And her...little brother?”
He smiled crookedly at me.
I waited for his answer.
“Pete.”
I looked back at George with narrow eyes. I couldn’t read his expression. It looked amused and yet, grim.
“...coincidence?” I muttered in a question.
He smiled happily, as he took the pillowcase full of his treats and swung it over his shoulder. Then, he started to walk off as he opened a cherry-flavored Starburst and popped it in his mouth.
“Nope!” he exclaimed happily.
* * * * *
Woo! *dodges kunai* I know I suck, so let us put that aside and open up to real critizim.
