Halved
26-10-2005, 06:11 PM
A Halloween tale
One evening three girls were out trick or treating in the neighbourhood. They were growing too old for dressing up and trick or treating, they just did it to see if they could bribe any unsuspecting pensioners of their cash, and seeing if any tasty lads were on the menu. Halloween was the night of the year for Rosie, Ellen and Becky and they would often not return until the early hours of November 1st, drunk and, howling with insane laughter.
On this evening the girls decided to visit the local graveyard, they knew they wouldn’t be the only ones because the graveyard was where the Goths were usually hanging about on Halloween. The kicked open the hanging gates of the graveyard, which were attached to crumbling limestone walls, thick with green moss and mould. The gates screeched open, Rosie, Ellen and Becky walked in. The gates swiftly closed with a fierce bang, behind them. They looked around, no sign of the Goths anywhere. This was highly unusual. Becky sat on a headstone.
“That’s a bit disrespectful,” said Ellen, folding her arms. Rosie was silent, she paced around the graveyard, glancing from one grave to the other. Her mouth dropped open.
“Don’t you see? All those black roses on the graves.” said Rosie.
“Yes, well Rose, people do have relatives,” she replied.
“But not every single relative is going to put a black rose on every grave.” said Becky, quickly jumping off the headstone she was perched on.
“And some of these people have been dead for over a hundred years,” said Rosie.
The wind howled as it picked up in the tense atmosphere.
The church bell was ringing -nine, ten, eleven. Twelve. It was midnight. Suddenly, something so paranormal happened. The doors leading down to the cellar of the church opened. The girls shrieked and huddled close.
“I want to go home,” whispered Becky. But Ellen, clearly wasn’t going home, she was walking towards the opened doors.
“We cant let her go alone.” said Rosie, following her.
“Wait for me! You can’t leave me alone!” cried Becky, frantically running after them. They hurried down the cold spiral staircase of the church, Ellen leading the way with her lighter in the air.
Suddenly, Ellen’s lighter blew out, and the doors of the church cellar slammed shut, Becky ran to the top, attempting to push open the doors. No luck. She looked at the clock on her mobile.
13:00.
And the doors never opened again until the next year on Halloween, and of course, they were not alive.
Happy Halloween! J
One evening three girls were out trick or treating in the neighbourhood. They were growing too old for dressing up and trick or treating, they just did it to see if they could bribe any unsuspecting pensioners of their cash, and seeing if any tasty lads were on the menu. Halloween was the night of the year for Rosie, Ellen and Becky and they would often not return until the early hours of November 1st, drunk and, howling with insane laughter.
On this evening the girls decided to visit the local graveyard, they knew they wouldn’t be the only ones because the graveyard was where the Goths were usually hanging about on Halloween. The kicked open the hanging gates of the graveyard, which were attached to crumbling limestone walls, thick with green moss and mould. The gates screeched open, Rosie, Ellen and Becky walked in. The gates swiftly closed with a fierce bang, behind them. They looked around, no sign of the Goths anywhere. This was highly unusual. Becky sat on a headstone.
“That’s a bit disrespectful,” said Ellen, folding her arms. Rosie was silent, she paced around the graveyard, glancing from one grave to the other. Her mouth dropped open.
“Don’t you see? All those black roses on the graves.” said Rosie.
“Yes, well Rose, people do have relatives,” she replied.
“But not every single relative is going to put a black rose on every grave.” said Becky, quickly jumping off the headstone she was perched on.
“And some of these people have been dead for over a hundred years,” said Rosie.
The wind howled as it picked up in the tense atmosphere.
The church bell was ringing -nine, ten, eleven. Twelve. It was midnight. Suddenly, something so paranormal happened. The doors leading down to the cellar of the church opened. The girls shrieked and huddled close.
“I want to go home,” whispered Becky. But Ellen, clearly wasn’t going home, she was walking towards the opened doors.
“We cant let her go alone.” said Rosie, following her.
“Wait for me! You can’t leave me alone!” cried Becky, frantically running after them. They hurried down the cold spiral staircase of the church, Ellen leading the way with her lighter in the air.
Suddenly, Ellen’s lighter blew out, and the doors of the church cellar slammed shut, Becky ran to the top, attempting to push open the doors. No luck. She looked at the clock on her mobile.
13:00.
And the doors never opened again until the next year on Halloween, and of course, they were not alive.
Happy Halloween! J