Night Of Revenge

• Jessica Garcia, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2008

It was a dark and foggy night. This was the perfect day for Halloween; children running around the streets in their costumes, knocking on doors, asking for some candy.
Everyone was having an exceptionally good time; except Peter.
Peter was not ordinary; in fact, he is not even a living human, but a dead cold corpse.
Peter was sitting in a dark and grimy hole underground, like a rabbit in its burrow. This was where Peter lived.
Out of nowhere, a head appeared in the room.
It was Peter’s friend Johnson. “ C’mon, come with me on earth.” He pleaded. “ Don’t you want to see the faces of those kids when they see us?”
“Not now!” began Peter; “ I need to do some business.”
Johnson sighed. “ Not this again.”
“Yes again. I need to go back to gain revenge.” Peter declared. “You remember what they did to me. Someone accused me of killing someone’s father, so the court decided to prosecute me. I want justice!” He exclaimed banging a white, bony fist in the earth.
“ O-o-k,” Johnson stammered, “ If you’re going back, you need to have a remember the rules.”
“ I don’t need to know the rules-“
“Rule number one: make sure you want to live, because you only have one chance…
Rule number two: you must take the form of another…
And rule number three: you must not be seen at midnight.”
When Johnson finished, the earth above rumbled, and soil had parted, showing the night sky.
When the rumbling stopped Peter climbed out of the ground and headed for the road.
Peter should not be seen, with his appearance, but since it was Halloween, it did not really matter, for everyone was wearing costume.
It took a long time to find who he was looking for. He was a small boy. He was the child of the mother who accused him of murder.
Peter went to the little boy and tapped him on the shoulder.
Peter bent down to reach the child’s height and whispered, “ Hey kid, I found a tipped over chocolate truck. Come with me and we’ll grab some.”
The child looked absolutely delighted and followed Peter.
Peter took him near the edge of a nearby river and stopped.
The child walked forward and yelled. “There’s no chocolate truck-“
Before he could finish his sentence, Peter struck the child’s back with a jagged stick: The child was dead and Peter took their body form.
“ Your mother accused me of murder and got me prosecuted. Now I want revenge by killing your family.” Peter muttered to the fallen figure.
“Peter!” A voice yelled. “ I won’t let you take anymore lives.”
Peter turned and saw Johnson, but Johnson did not stop in front of Peter but pushed him into the riverbed where a sharp rock pierced his chest.
He died once again, but did not go back to his grimy grave.
He was in the fiery depths of hell.