The End

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Beware o fearless children! Listen well as I spin my tale of mystery and terror. A tale that will test even the most courageous of heart – one that will cause you blood to run cold, and your breath to grow still.” The narrator’s voice was ghostly and hollow, thick and low.

A flash of lightning streaked across the stormy sky. Thunder lividly roared over the howling wind. Rain cascaded down from the angry clouds, furiously pounding against the house. All the lights went dead. Everyone in the room jumped, startled.

“The spirits are fuming – do you choose, still, to hear this story of horror?” the storyteller continued.

“Uh, Steph?” a voice piped up. “Cut to the chase, will ya?”

“Shut up, Bart, you’re ruining the effect!” Stephanie replied sharply. “You asked for a scary story, so that’s what I’m gonna give you.”

Timothy opened his mouth then. “Do you have to hold the flashlight up to your face? It’s kinda geeky,” he pointed out matter-of-factly.

“Can’t you guys get into it? I’m going for suspense here!” Steph exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air, irritated with their lack of imagination.

“Tell the story,” Cassie commanded, thoroughly intrigued.

The boys quit mentioning their vexations, and sat noiselessly. Grateful that someone was interested, Steph cleared her throat and began again.

“The house was dark and massive – a tall foreboding shadow atop a deserted hill. The only light came from the fireplace, where the flames roared, and long tongues of fire reached out as if to grab an unseen figure. The ebony clouds spewed lightning, and the thunder bellowed in response.”

It was then that Bart noticed that she was describing their very situation. He shifted uncomfortably as another splash of lightning flashed across the black, eerie sky.

Stephanie lowered her voice to a deep and menacing tone. Cass leaned forward intently, eager to hear. Tim rolled his eyes as if he were bored, and shot a glance at the boy on his left. But Bart remained motionless all through the story….

***

“ …They found her sprawled on the floor,” Stephanie said, depicting the scene that held her audience dumbfounded, “with no wounds or injuries, but a rope around her neck. Her face was purple, and her eyes were wide and bulging. She lay unmoving, the life choked out of her.”

“Hey, that’s not fair! You can’t kill her like that!” Bart cried melodramatically.

“It’s a story, remember? And I’m not done yet,” Steph reminded him. She stared darkly at her audience, and paused theatrically.

“The police found only one piece of evidence – blood. Written on the wall the red, dripping letters spelled out, ‘Death’. The ‘h’ was dragged out all the way down to the floor. And a dark stain coated the girl’s finger.”

The three other teenagers gaped in horrific fascination. Steph smiled proudly, happy with her success in captivating her listeners.

“The. End,” she finished, her disturbingly scratchy tone of voice causing the others to shudder.

Another crash of thunder echoed through the night, racking the house violently. The wind grew overbearingly loud and the rain seemed to pour down like waterfall. Stephanie dropped the flashlight, which turned off on impact as it came into contact with the ground.

Suddenly, the fire snuffed out, and the room went pitch black. Three screams resounded throughout the empty mansion.

A pair of hands fumbled for the flashlight, hurriedly switching it on. “What was that?” Tim demanded as he searched the room warily with the flashlight. The beam fell on the open window; rain was flooding inside.

Bart sighed in relief. “The wind must’ve made the fire go out.”

“Yeah, but who opened the window?” Tim asked curiously, moving quickly to close it.

“Guys?” they heard Stephanie call out, panic rising in her voice. “Has anyone seen Cass?”

“The plot thickens,” Bart said mysteriously.

“You’re not helping,” Steph said, crossing her arms in frustration.

“She’s…probably hiding somewhere just to scare us,” Tim said sensibly. “She’s the kind of person who would do something like that.” Tim spoke nonchalantly, though inside of him he was trying to convince himself that that truly was the case.

“I think we should look for her,” Steph said firmly. Bart nodded in agreement. Tim thought for a moment, and then he, too, consented, taking the lead with his two companions treading carefully behind him.

They first checked the library. Shadows danced upon the dreary walls, and dust billowed from the untouched books that rested on the shelves. A single book lay open on the table. It was black and fragile – an antique, no doubt.

Bart picked it up gingerly, showing it to his friends who looked over his shoulder. Steph gasped and took a step back in fright. The light he held on the book started shaking as Tim felt his blood freeze. His knees buckled and his lip quivered uneasily.

Bart continued to stare at the page. Darkly colored and written in calligraphy, a single phrase was highlighted. He read it aloud:

“Like a knife through the heart you words killed me, and I found myself in a pool of blood that was my very own.”

A shriek sounded from the next room. The scream was like that of a cat, loud and wailing, then gradually dying out, evolving into a painful moan.

In the blink of an eye they were out of the library, rushing madly towards the study, following the petrifying sound. Steph scrambled to the door, only to find it securely locked.

“CASSIE!” she screeched helplessly, frantically slamming her body against the wood. It wouldn’t budge.

Something was definitely wrong, Bart thought as he neared the door. Tim quickly shoved Stephanie aside and kicked – hard.

The door flew open, crashing to the ground with a heavy thud, and the light from the flashlight first found the open window. The room was deathly silent.

The shaft of light slowly moved around the room, searching until it rested on a limp form by the desk, lying in a fetal position on the floor.

“Ohmigosh – Cass!” Bart cried as he pushed through his stunned friends to reach the still body.

He kneeled down and touched her shoulder, gently turning her over. Her face was ashen and cold, her black hair fell into her face, but her breath did not blow it away. His eyes widened, and he felt himself choking as his fingers grazed the metal knob protruding from her chest. His legs were suddenly wet; he glanced down. His pants were covered in a dark red stain. He sat in the crimson pool, stock-still, a sick, revolting feeling sinking into him.

A thunderous clatter came from upstairs, jolting them and waking them from their inexplicable trance.

Tim ran in and grabbed Bart by the arm, yanking him up. “C’mon!” he ordered impulsively.

Bart obeyed, letting Tim pull him away from the figure on the floor. Steph ran ahead to the living room, the boys lagging behind. Bart cast a glance back at the dark study, stupefied, and staggered toward the direction Tim was hauling him.

***

“I say we call the police,” Stephanie said.

“And then what?” Tim asked sardonically. “Tell them we found one of our friends dead in a room when we’re the only ones in the place? That’ll go down real well. ”

“Maybe we’re not alone,” Bart said, as if the idea had just occurred to him.

“Shut up, dork,” Stephanie snapped, completely annoyed with his antics. He clamped his mouth shut. Steph was almost dangerous when she was upset.

“Let’s wait until morning,” Tim said. “After the storm.” He collapsed into a gigantic, elegantly decorated armchair, trying to relax as best he could. Bart shifted from foot to foot nervously, as though his limbs couldn’t bear to remain in one place. Finally, he began to walk towards the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Tim wondered, his head turning to watch him.

“I’m starving,” Bart replied. “Need something to calm my nerves. You want anything?”

“Nah.”

“Kay.”

Tim and Stephanie were left alone. Steph sank down to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. Tim stared into space.

“I…I can’t believe she’s dead,” Steph finally concluded after a moment.

Tim snapped to attention, but didn’t say anything. He wasn’t looking directly at her, but instead at an object on the coffee table. Hesitantly, he fingered it, then lifted it, curiosity getting the best of him.

“What is it? Steph inquired as she looked on.

“It’s anthology of poetry,” Tim mused as he paged through. A scarlet ribbon marked a specific poem. Tim carefully found the page and read the words that had been underlined in blood red ink.

“My heart is still; it is not beating,

There is no life in me.

For your sweetness is like poison,

And you’ve been too kind to me.”

Tim felt his hair stand on end. Stephanie felt a cold chill skitter down her spine, and spread down to her fingertips. They stared at each other, realization dawning on them.

“BART!” they shouted simultaneously. They scurried rapidly towards the kitchen, like mice from a cat, nearly trampling the other. They burst into the room, screaming Bart’s name.

Once again, the flashlight’s fading yellow laser shone, peering into the deepest nooks and crannies of the dark room.

The two teenagers heaved a greatly relieved sigh as they spotted Bart’s slumping outline in the chair, staring out the window.

Tim rushed hastily to his friend’s side, shaking him harshly as he fumed, his contained anger finally floating to the surface as he exploded in his concern over his friend.

“Bart, you had us so worried!” Tim reprimanded as though he was scolding a young child. “What were you thinking? You--” Tim stopped short as he realized Bart hadn’t said anything in reply.

“Steph,” Tim ordered with surprising calmness, “shine the light over here before it goes out.”

Trembling fearfully, Stephanie pointed the flashlight towards the chair where Bert sat sluggishly.

“Ahhh!” Tim jumped, letting go of the other boy as he leapt away. The light finally died away so only the moon, which cast a creepy illumination, lighted the room.

The teenager’s silhouette of a body lay sagging in his chair, his skin discolored and stony cold. In his left hand, was a half-eaten cookie, held loosely by his lifeless fingers.

“Bart!” Steph whimpered, feeling a nauseating feeling form in her stomach. Tim stood, and walked back over to the girl, putting his arms on her shoulders.

“C’mon,” he said simply, “let’s get outta here.” She nodded weakly, and he lead her away, closing the door behind him. They went back to the living room, sitting on the large extravagant couch in the center. Steph rested her head on Tim’s shoulder, thankful that she couldn’t see anything for her blurring vision.

“I’m scared, Tim,” she whispered, her voice tight.

“I know,” Tim said, trying to comfort her. “But it’s only a couple more hours till dawn.”

She sat up, brushing her face, the sadness banished from her countenance. “Are you saying you want to wait this out?” she accused. “And wait for whoever’s after us to just show himself?” She was absolutely appalled at his idea. Was he crazy?

“Where would we go in this storm?” Tim asked practically, gesturing to the window as the dark clouds covered the moon.

“The next house is only about a half mile away,” Stephanie informed him.

“You’re being unreasonable,” Tim started, but Steph cut him off.

“No, you’re being unreasonable. I’m not going to stay and wait around for this killer – whoever he is – to come and find us! I’m leaving!” She exclaimed, her decision definite.

She started to leave, when a piece of paper caught her eye. She trembled, afraid of what the consequences would be if she peeked at it. Her gut told her not to – it was too dangerous, so much had happened already. Just get out while you still can, she told herself. Yet, she found herself compelled to read it – as if something other than her conscience was telling her to do so. She hesitated, then picked it up and examined it, reading it aloud.

“I am all alone,

No one is around me.

Who will save my soul

From the demons that haunt me?

The air is still.

Death is near.

I can feel it

Droning in my ear.”

The sheet fell from her nerveless hands. Her entire body quivered, shaking with trepidation she couldn’t control.

“That’s it!” She exclaimed. “I’m outta here!” She dashed out of the living room towards the grand foyer, lightning flashing once again, thunder rolling loudly. The rain didn’t stop, but pelted the roof even more fiercely, so loud it could have been hail. Steph didn’t stop either. Determinedly, she pressed on toward her goal, and at last, reached the door. Her hand had been turning the knob when she heard a terrified yell of fear emit from the mouth of the only person left in the house that she knew of.

“Oh. My. Gosh,” she breathed. “TIM! OHMIGOSH! TIM!” she hollered, hoping and praying she wouldn’t have to face the scene that lurked in the back of her mind.

Stumbling blindly over furniture she exploded into the room. It was dark and she couldn’t see anything. Oh, please, no, she thought to herself, her body racking with fear, finding herself close to tears.

Why is this happening, she pondered, starting to breathe harder, her lungs seemingly low on oxygen. Why are my friends being murdered?

Her foot crunched something, and she realized it was the piece of paper she’d read aloud to Tim but a few seconds ago.

“Ohmigosh…” she scarcely whispered. It all fit together! A knife through the heart… poisoned sweetness…and now…Tim.

But what about me, she wondered. What about herself?

At that moment, the clouds parted, and moonlight saturated the room, suffocating the disturbing darkness, so all was light.

Stephanie’s eyes dropped to the dark-haired boy who lolled on the couch, his face white and – no! No! This wasn’t happening! NO! It wasn’t Tim’s body that was positioned flaccidly on the couch, his eyes still open and mouth still hanging from shock and horror, frozen in mid-scream. NO! It couldn’t be! NO! This wasn’t happening!

Her feet remained planted on the floor, unable to move. Her heart pounded in her chest like a war drum. She wanted to scream, to cry, to run, but her eyes were still frozen on the lifeless form of the third person to die that night in under an hour.

But what about me, she wondered again.

A sinister shadow appeared on the wall in front of her. A shadow she knew wasn’t her own. The shadowy silhouette held out a knotted rope with a loop at the end.

Her fear and alarm increased as she felt that spine-chilling feeling wash over her again. She had condemned herself, and there was no way out. The noose was for her, and for her alone. She had conceived it, now she must accept it.

She turned around slowly……………… and screamed.

***

“…They found her sprawled on the floor, with no wounds or injuries, but a rope around her neck. Her face was purple, and her eyes were wide and bulging. She lay unmoving, the life choked out of her...”

***

THE END