Post by frankenjohn on Sept 29, 2005 18:44:33 GMT -5
I wrote a short story for Halloween:
Mischief Night
By John Tummino
It happened three years ago. It was October 30, 2002, 9 o’clock at night. I was watching “The Blair Witch Project,” and for the last hour and twenty minutes, I was shivering. All the lights were on. The volume was low. The blinds were pulled. The door was wide open. It was the climax of the film, the part where they go into the witch’s house. I barely was looking. Then, the phone rang. I screamed loudly and fell off the bed. It took a few seconds to realize that it was just the phone, and that the Blair Witch didn’t get me. I heaved a sigh of relief, got up, and answered the phone.
“Hello?” I nervously said.
“Why the hell aren’t you outside?”
It was Joe Bridges, my best friend.
“What do you mean? It’s nine o’clock at night. What would I be doing outside?”
“Did you forget what tonight is?”
I paused for a moment and thought.
“It’s not Halloween.”
“No freakin’ duh.”
“Then what is it?” I said, puzzled.
“MISCHIEF NIGHT!”
“So?”
“What do ya mean ‘So?’ Come on out! We’ll make some rounds.”
“You know I can’t get out of the house, right?”
“Why?”
“My parents are downstairs watching television.”
“So sneak out your window. You got that vine-ridden fence thingy.”
I don’t know what was so persuasive about that sentence, but it worked for me. I told him I’d meet him in front of his house in a few and he agreed. So, I hung up and grabbed my backpack. I couldn’t get any eggs, so I just loaded up on toilet paper from the upstairs bathroom. Then, I slung my backpack around my shoulders, opened my window, and climbed out. I had to be very careful, but I got down to the bottom very fast.
It was a cool night. The wind rustled the leaves on the ground and stirred them into mini-tornados. As I walked down my lonely, deserted road, I couldn’t help but constantly look behind me to see if anyone (especially the Blair Witch) was following me, but there never was. At least I didn’t watch the end, or God only knows how I’d be feeling right now.
My street ended in a cul-de-sac. I lived at the beginning, and Joe was at the end (that’s why he’s my best friend, the fact we live so close together). I got their pretty quickly, because I was moving at a fast pace due to the fact I thought I was being followed. Joe was sitting on his porch eating a Milky Way.
Joe was thirteen (like me, obviously), but was pretty tall for his age. In fact, you could even say he towered over me, and everyone else. He had blonde hair, blue eyes, and was most impatient person I’d ever met.
“What took you so long?” He asked me as soon as I got in hearing distance.
“What do ya mean? It took me only five minutes to get here!” I yelled.
“I thought you stopped to have a five star dinner.” He sarcastically announced.
I rolled my eyes at that comment.
“C’mon, let’s get going.” I told him.
He got up and started walking with me down the street.
“Listen,” I stated, “I want to be home pretty soon. Who knows when my parents will come upstairs? I left my door open, TV on, everything.”
“Relax you’re too hard on yourself.”
There was silence for about thirty seconds.
“So, where are we going?” I asked.
“The park.” He answered.
“Why the park?”
“We won’t get in as much trouble.”
By now, we had reached the end of the block. The park was only two short blocks away. But then, we saw a police car turn the corner. We ran a block and then ducked. They drove right past us. Then, we continued walking. We reached the park in a matter of minutes. So we went in.
It seemed we had missed the big crowd, because there was so much toilet paper in the trees, it wasn’t funny. There wasn’t any room to even put anymore on.
“Let’s go home there’s nothing to do.” I said.
“Umm…no. We’re gonna check around. Plus, I think I see some movement towards the other end of the park.”
I reluctantly moved towards the movement only to find that was Devon Ashton, Eddie Munich, and Hal Marcus. They were putting on their finishing touches on their tree when we busted in.
Joe pulled out a flashlight and said “Hey you kids!”
Instantly, they dropped anything they were holding and sprinted towards the nearest way out.
“Wait!!! Wait!!! It’s Joe and me!” I shouted.
They skidded to a halt and started walking back towards us. When they got near us, they pushed us.
“Idiots!” Devon called.
We got up and brushed the dirt off us as we saw the serious faces on the trio.
Devon, Eddie, and Hal were another motley crew. They were always doing something they shouldn’t have. This night was there night to go “all out” (even thought they go “all out” every day of the week). Devon was tall, had brown hair, blue eyes, and was the leader of the pack. Eddie was like my height (not too tall, not too short), had blonde hair, brown eyes, and was Devon’s right hand man. Hal has only been here a year. He’s short and fat, has brown hair, green eyes, and is more of a follower.
“I think I peed my pants.” Eddie remarked.
We all laughed, except for Eddie (of course).
“How long have you guys been out?” I asked them.
“About an hour.” Devon said.
“We’ve been out for only ten minutes and already he (pointing to me) wants to go back.”
“Yeah, why are you always such a party pooper?” asked Hal.
“Umm…well…ya see—“
Everyone burst into laughter, except for me (of course).
After they had all calmed down, Devon asked, “Have ya hit any houses yet?”
“Nope.” Joe and I answered at the same time.
“Hey why don’t you hit Mr. Kowaski’s house?” Eddie suggested.
Mr. Kowaski lived on the edge of the park in a big, old mansion. He was a real loner, and he never went out if he didn’t have to. I was told by an unreliable source that he has a collection of various weapons and he shoots anyone who trespasses on his property.
“Yeah, why don’t we?” snickered Joe.
So, he started walking towards the house. I, not wanting to be left with triple trouble, ran after him.
“So, what are you gonna do when you get there?” I asked.
“You mean what you are gonna do when we get there.”
I gulped.
“What are you talking about?”
“Did ya bring your eggs?”
“No, I couldn’t get downstairs, remember?”
“Oh, that’s okay, I have some.”
He slid off his backpack and took out an egg from its carton.
“Here you go.” He said, handing me an egg.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” I asked.
“You’re gonna throw that egg into Mr. Kowaski’s window.
“No I’m not.”
“Yes you are.”
Once again, random bad persuasiveness struck again and I went over to the base of Mr. Kowaski’s house. Reluctantly, I threw the egg. It landed perfectly with a splat on his front window. Then, I looked over at the guys and they were running away.
“WAIT!!!” I shouted as I ran after them. But then, I heard the door to Mr. Kowaski’s house open and the starting roar of a chainsaw. I turned around only to find a strange looking man with a chainsaw on Mr. Kowaski’s porch. Now, even though I said Mr. Kowaski didn’t come out often, he still came out, and I’d seen him, and the man on the porch was not him. Then, this man dashed off the porch and down the driveway, out through the street, and into the park, heading straight toward me. Then, it finally clicked: this guy was gonna kill me. I turned around and ran as fast as I could (without looking back) through the park and onto the main road. I continued onto my block and to my house where I ran up the steps and banged on the door. Right now, I didn’t care if I got in trouble because this was a life or death situation. After a few seconds, my dad opened the door and to his surprise, saw me. With a puzzled look on his face, said, “Son? What are you doing out here? How’d you even get out of the house?”
“Dad…no time…to…explain…got…to…get in…” I panted. Then I heard it: the sound of a chainsaw coming around the corner. Petrified, I stood on my stoop until the buzz was right behind me. Then, I jumped through my dad and onto the floor, turning around just in time to see the stranger nick my dad’s head off and onto the floor. His own blood spilled on me. Ultra-scared, I told my mom to run upstairs with me, and she did. The man (now killer) was running after us when he slipped on my dad’s blood. By then we were all the way at the end of the upstairs hallway and in my parent’s room.
The killer came up the stairs and then it happened: the chainsaw ran out of gas. Now the situation had worsened in seconds. Now we couldn’t hear where he was and he still had a lethal weapon in his hands.
My mom was pressed up against the door and I was standing by their window. Then, I heard the sound of a chainsaw going through the bathroom door. Then the closet. Then my bedroom. Then the other closet. Then, the chainsaw came right through my mom’s chest and blood went everywhere. The killer eventually pulled the chainsaw out and I couldn’t hear anything.
By now I was very disturbed. I witnessed the murders of my mother and father and I had the blood on me to prove it. I had to get out of the house. Fast. I turned around and opened the window. There was no vine-ridden fence thingy here, so I had to jump. I said a short prayer, and then I jumped.
My landing was successful. No broken bones. Just a very hurt foot, which caused me to howl in pain. Turned out the killer was eavesdropping outside the door, and since the window was open, heard my loud cry. He dashed down the stairs and outside as I tried to get up. Then, he was leaning over me, chainsaw high in the air, ready to strike. So I grabbed his legs, and he fell, but I didn’t get my hand off in time. He cut it off. I screamed in pain (and pain didn’t begin to describe what I felt) as my blood rushed out onto the killer. Lights went on everywhere. I got up and ran out into the street screaming, “HELP!!! SOMEBODY HELP ME!!! HE CUT OFF MY HAND AND KILLED MY PARENTS!!! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, HELP!!!” Everyone was filing out onto their stoops and porches to see what was happening. They were only out for a second, because when they saw the little boy running away from a deranged killer who cut his hand off, they instantly jumped back inside to phone the cops.
Then, I came to the end of the cul-de-sac. The killer was a bout twenty yards away. Then, I saw them. Those flashing red-and-blue lights. The raced down the street and ran over the killer, killing him on the spot. Bringing up the rear of the cavalry was a couple of more police cars and a few ambulances. I was rushed to the hospital.
I found out later that the killer had escaped from a home for the criminally insane three miles away from here. He came to Mr. Kowaski’s house through the garage window, grabbed a chainsaw, and killed him before coming after me. They also prepared to give me a prosthetic hand.
Also, you’d think I’d of undergone years of psychological treatment. Well, you thought right. I did. But I wasn’t affected as much as you think I was. You see, a little bit of a burden was lifted off my shoulders when I saw that cop car slam into the killer. It was the best/worst Halloween (well, nearly) ever.
Mischief Night
By John Tummino
It happened three years ago. It was October 30, 2002, 9 o’clock at night. I was watching “The Blair Witch Project,” and for the last hour and twenty minutes, I was shivering. All the lights were on. The volume was low. The blinds were pulled. The door was wide open. It was the climax of the film, the part where they go into the witch’s house. I barely was looking. Then, the phone rang. I screamed loudly and fell off the bed. It took a few seconds to realize that it was just the phone, and that the Blair Witch didn’t get me. I heaved a sigh of relief, got up, and answered the phone.
“Hello?” I nervously said.
“Why the hell aren’t you outside?”
It was Joe Bridges, my best friend.
“What do you mean? It’s nine o’clock at night. What would I be doing outside?”
“Did you forget what tonight is?”
I paused for a moment and thought.
“It’s not Halloween.”
“No freakin’ duh.”
“Then what is it?” I said, puzzled.
“MISCHIEF NIGHT!”
“So?”
“What do ya mean ‘So?’ Come on out! We’ll make some rounds.”
“You know I can’t get out of the house, right?”
“Why?”
“My parents are downstairs watching television.”
“So sneak out your window. You got that vine-ridden fence thingy.”
I don’t know what was so persuasive about that sentence, but it worked for me. I told him I’d meet him in front of his house in a few and he agreed. So, I hung up and grabbed my backpack. I couldn’t get any eggs, so I just loaded up on toilet paper from the upstairs bathroom. Then, I slung my backpack around my shoulders, opened my window, and climbed out. I had to be very careful, but I got down to the bottom very fast.
It was a cool night. The wind rustled the leaves on the ground and stirred them into mini-tornados. As I walked down my lonely, deserted road, I couldn’t help but constantly look behind me to see if anyone (especially the Blair Witch) was following me, but there never was. At least I didn’t watch the end, or God only knows how I’d be feeling right now.
My street ended in a cul-de-sac. I lived at the beginning, and Joe was at the end (that’s why he’s my best friend, the fact we live so close together). I got their pretty quickly, because I was moving at a fast pace due to the fact I thought I was being followed. Joe was sitting on his porch eating a Milky Way.
Joe was thirteen (like me, obviously), but was pretty tall for his age. In fact, you could even say he towered over me, and everyone else. He had blonde hair, blue eyes, and was most impatient person I’d ever met.
“What took you so long?” He asked me as soon as I got in hearing distance.
“What do ya mean? It took me only five minutes to get here!” I yelled.
“I thought you stopped to have a five star dinner.” He sarcastically announced.
I rolled my eyes at that comment.
“C’mon, let’s get going.” I told him.
He got up and started walking with me down the street.
“Listen,” I stated, “I want to be home pretty soon. Who knows when my parents will come upstairs? I left my door open, TV on, everything.”
“Relax you’re too hard on yourself.”
There was silence for about thirty seconds.
“So, where are we going?” I asked.
“The park.” He answered.
“Why the park?”
“We won’t get in as much trouble.”
By now, we had reached the end of the block. The park was only two short blocks away. But then, we saw a police car turn the corner. We ran a block and then ducked. They drove right past us. Then, we continued walking. We reached the park in a matter of minutes. So we went in.
It seemed we had missed the big crowd, because there was so much toilet paper in the trees, it wasn’t funny. There wasn’t any room to even put anymore on.
“Let’s go home there’s nothing to do.” I said.
“Umm…no. We’re gonna check around. Plus, I think I see some movement towards the other end of the park.”
I reluctantly moved towards the movement only to find that was Devon Ashton, Eddie Munich, and Hal Marcus. They were putting on their finishing touches on their tree when we busted in.
Joe pulled out a flashlight and said “Hey you kids!”
Instantly, they dropped anything they were holding and sprinted towards the nearest way out.
“Wait!!! Wait!!! It’s Joe and me!” I shouted.
They skidded to a halt and started walking back towards us. When they got near us, they pushed us.
“Idiots!” Devon called.
We got up and brushed the dirt off us as we saw the serious faces on the trio.
Devon, Eddie, and Hal were another motley crew. They were always doing something they shouldn’t have. This night was there night to go “all out” (even thought they go “all out” every day of the week). Devon was tall, had brown hair, blue eyes, and was the leader of the pack. Eddie was like my height (not too tall, not too short), had blonde hair, brown eyes, and was Devon’s right hand man. Hal has only been here a year. He’s short and fat, has brown hair, green eyes, and is more of a follower.
“I think I peed my pants.” Eddie remarked.
We all laughed, except for Eddie (of course).
“How long have you guys been out?” I asked them.
“About an hour.” Devon said.
“We’ve been out for only ten minutes and already he (pointing to me) wants to go back.”
“Yeah, why are you always such a party pooper?” asked Hal.
“Umm…well…ya see—“
Everyone burst into laughter, except for me (of course).
After they had all calmed down, Devon asked, “Have ya hit any houses yet?”
“Nope.” Joe and I answered at the same time.
“Hey why don’t you hit Mr. Kowaski’s house?” Eddie suggested.
Mr. Kowaski lived on the edge of the park in a big, old mansion. He was a real loner, and he never went out if he didn’t have to. I was told by an unreliable source that he has a collection of various weapons and he shoots anyone who trespasses on his property.
“Yeah, why don’t we?” snickered Joe.
So, he started walking towards the house. I, not wanting to be left with triple trouble, ran after him.
“So, what are you gonna do when you get there?” I asked.
“You mean what you are gonna do when we get there.”
I gulped.
“What are you talking about?”
“Did ya bring your eggs?”
“No, I couldn’t get downstairs, remember?”
“Oh, that’s okay, I have some.”
He slid off his backpack and took out an egg from its carton.
“Here you go.” He said, handing me an egg.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” I asked.
“You’re gonna throw that egg into Mr. Kowaski’s window.
“No I’m not.”
“Yes you are.”
Once again, random bad persuasiveness struck again and I went over to the base of Mr. Kowaski’s house. Reluctantly, I threw the egg. It landed perfectly with a splat on his front window. Then, I looked over at the guys and they were running away.
“WAIT!!!” I shouted as I ran after them. But then, I heard the door to Mr. Kowaski’s house open and the starting roar of a chainsaw. I turned around only to find a strange looking man with a chainsaw on Mr. Kowaski’s porch. Now, even though I said Mr. Kowaski didn’t come out often, he still came out, and I’d seen him, and the man on the porch was not him. Then, this man dashed off the porch and down the driveway, out through the street, and into the park, heading straight toward me. Then, it finally clicked: this guy was gonna kill me. I turned around and ran as fast as I could (without looking back) through the park and onto the main road. I continued onto my block and to my house where I ran up the steps and banged on the door. Right now, I didn’t care if I got in trouble because this was a life or death situation. After a few seconds, my dad opened the door and to his surprise, saw me. With a puzzled look on his face, said, “Son? What are you doing out here? How’d you even get out of the house?”
“Dad…no time…to…explain…got…to…get in…” I panted. Then I heard it: the sound of a chainsaw coming around the corner. Petrified, I stood on my stoop until the buzz was right behind me. Then, I jumped through my dad and onto the floor, turning around just in time to see the stranger nick my dad’s head off and onto the floor. His own blood spilled on me. Ultra-scared, I told my mom to run upstairs with me, and she did. The man (now killer) was running after us when he slipped on my dad’s blood. By then we were all the way at the end of the upstairs hallway and in my parent’s room.
The killer came up the stairs and then it happened: the chainsaw ran out of gas. Now the situation had worsened in seconds. Now we couldn’t hear where he was and he still had a lethal weapon in his hands.
My mom was pressed up against the door and I was standing by their window. Then, I heard the sound of a chainsaw going through the bathroom door. Then the closet. Then my bedroom. Then the other closet. Then, the chainsaw came right through my mom’s chest and blood went everywhere. The killer eventually pulled the chainsaw out and I couldn’t hear anything.
By now I was very disturbed. I witnessed the murders of my mother and father and I had the blood on me to prove it. I had to get out of the house. Fast. I turned around and opened the window. There was no vine-ridden fence thingy here, so I had to jump. I said a short prayer, and then I jumped.
My landing was successful. No broken bones. Just a very hurt foot, which caused me to howl in pain. Turned out the killer was eavesdropping outside the door, and since the window was open, heard my loud cry. He dashed down the stairs and outside as I tried to get up. Then, he was leaning over me, chainsaw high in the air, ready to strike. So I grabbed his legs, and he fell, but I didn’t get my hand off in time. He cut it off. I screamed in pain (and pain didn’t begin to describe what I felt) as my blood rushed out onto the killer. Lights went on everywhere. I got up and ran out into the street screaming, “HELP!!! SOMEBODY HELP ME!!! HE CUT OFF MY HAND AND KILLED MY PARENTS!!! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, HELP!!!” Everyone was filing out onto their stoops and porches to see what was happening. They were only out for a second, because when they saw the little boy running away from a deranged killer who cut his hand off, they instantly jumped back inside to phone the cops.
Then, I came to the end of the cul-de-sac. The killer was a bout twenty yards away. Then, I saw them. Those flashing red-and-blue lights. The raced down the street and ran over the killer, killing him on the spot. Bringing up the rear of the cavalry was a couple of more police cars and a few ambulances. I was rushed to the hospital.
I found out later that the killer had escaped from a home for the criminally insane three miles away from here. He came to Mr. Kowaski’s house through the garage window, grabbed a chainsaw, and killed him before coming after me. They also prepared to give me a prosthetic hand.
Also, you’d think I’d of undergone years of psychological treatment. Well, you thought right. I did. But I wasn’t affected as much as you think I was. You see, a little bit of a burden was lifted off my shoulders when I saw that cop car slam into the killer. It was the best/worst Halloween (well, nearly) ever.
