Haunted

• Alyce Cross, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2010

I could see my breath on the wind, its intricate patterns rising in the frosty air. I stood outside a run- down, dilapidated house, its door lying to the side, nearly every window was smashed and the moss and creepers ate away at the rotting wood. 20 minutes ago I watched four of my closest friends enter that house, and I was full of foreboding as my mind churned through rumours surrounding this god- forsaken place. It was supposedly haunted by old lady Spinster, who used to live in the house hundreds of years ago. The story went that the town was fruitful with a plentiful harvest every year; until old lady Spinster arrived, shunned all company and spent her time brewing poultices. People began to look at her in fear, warning their children away from the Spinster woman. Soon after the crops withered and died the people, despaired and angered by this turned to the only cause they could think of, Witchcraft.
The townsfolk turned on Spinster. Enraged and half starved they took to old lady Spinster’s home with malice that left such chaos and destruction in its wake. Spinster was brutally dragged from her house and dunked. Her cries for help slowly died and she lay limp in the water. Innocent until proven guilty, I believe the saying went. The townsfolk horrified at the thought of the atrocity they had just preformed never spoke of the incident again. Three weeks later the first person disappeared, without a trace, it was then followed by another and another until there was no- one left, they all disappeared. Some left but even they disappeared, one thing all the disappearances had in common, every person that disappeared claimed to have seen the ghost of old lady Spinster. And they say, to this very day that she haunts her old house, preying on those with a secret to hide.
I stared nervously at the house craning my neck to see inside, it had been a long while since my friends had walked boldly through the misshapen door. I can remember the way they ridiculed me for declining their invitation to join them, I was too scared. I shouted out their names, but there was no response, I grappled with the idea of going in to find them but both sides had good arguments, finally my conscious got the better of me, what if they were hurt? I cautiously approached the door and with a deep breath, stepped inside. I called out their names again; the only reply was the creaking of the floorboards beneath my feet. I approached an archway, as I stepped silently through it I felt somebody grab me from behind and say “boo”, right next to my ear. My scream pierced the silence and I whipped around to find myself face to face with Anthony, one of my friends who had walked into this house over an hour ago. I smiled as I realised what had just happened.