First runner-up: By Renee Olmo
The sudden coolness of the kitchen door knob in her hand made her stop. A recent memory came rushing into Molly’s thoughts. Noelle and Molly cuddled under the blankets at midnight watching a slasher movie and mocking the victims for their stupidity. What sane person in fluffy pink bunny slippers would venture into dark woods to confront an axe-wielding intruder? The idea sent them both into gales of laughter and the blanket was used to muffle their laugher rather than to shield them from the blood seeking maniac. She looked down at her pink-striped Joe Boxer pajama bottoms and her warm footie socks and started to laugh. What was she thinking? She could not wait until Monday to tell Noelle that she had starred in her own fright movie. “Okay,” she thought, “get a hold of your self.” She checked the door knob still in her hand. Cold, but still locked. Good. Think. Any responsible babysitter would first check the children when they heard a sudden crash. Knowing her cousins, they were probably bouncing their remote control cars at each other and hitting the walls. Oh, her Mother was going to owe her big time. “Maybe a car!” she thought gleefully as she sprinted up the stairs to the boy’s bedroom. Strange, but it was quiet upstairs. She opened the door suddenly so as to catch them in mid-throw and gave a low moan as she realized that they were both sound asleep. There was nothing out of place, and the room even though it was a mess, was just as she had left it. She left the door open and sat on the landing at the top of the stairs. She replayed the sound in her mind. The crash sounded like a mixture of wood scraping against the trees and metal clanking together. Maybe the swing on the play set had come loose and was hitting something in the wind? Whatever it was, it would have to wait until tomorrow. She was not heading outside of these walls tonight. It was cold outside. In fact, it was cold inside. She got up and started to look for the upstairs thermostat. She found it near the master bedroom on the third floor landing. It was dark and eerie without the warm lights of her aunt’s bedroom filling the hallway. She turned on every light and made her way around the landing despite a nervous sensation in her stomach. Man, she was creeped out. The whole night was a mess. The idea of sleeping in this huge house all alone in these noisy woods was totally freaking her out. She tried to be brave for her little cousins, who despite being so annoying trusted her to guard them through the night. She turned the heat up, kept on all the lights, and headed back down to the den. As she went downstairs the shrill scratching from outside stopped her; she could feel the blood unfold in her veins. There was definitely something outside. But before she could think of what to do, the frigid coldness of the den hit her in the face.
More runners-up:
By Heyla Browle
Molly’s strawberry blonde curls blocked her vision as she spun around. When she pulled her hair away from her eyes she gasped. Standing in the doorway was Noelle.
“Noelle?” said Molly in a questioning voice. “How did you get here?” She saw a slender girl with lank black hair and startling blue eyes that looked just like Noelle, but couldn’t imagine how she could be standing there.
“I rode my bike,” said Noelle, as if it should have been obvious.
“You rode your bike all the way from Norfolk!” Molly whisper-shouted. She didn’t want to wake up the boys.
“I have something important to tell you,” whispered Noelle in a serious tone. Her pale skin glowed eerily in the moonlight. “We’ve been friends for a while now,” continued Noelle, “I’m not like everyone else. As Halloween approaches I…”
“Who are you?” sneered Willy, the four year old. Molly hadn’t noticed him enter the room. She looked at Noelle. It was clear from her expression that she would say no more until they were alone again.
Willy was the most adorable of the three boys, with his blonde curls and dark green eyes. He was also the most annoying. Molly had never liked him, but now she hated him. Noelle was about to share something important and he had interrupted.
“Shhh,” hissed Molly. “Be quiet before you wake up your brothers.”
“My name is Noelle,” said Noelle. “I’m Molly’s friend. There was something different about her eyes. Instead of the bright blue being attractive, it was creepy. To Molly’ s surprise Willy began backing slowly to his bedroom, never taking his eyes off of Noelle.
“Tell your friend not to come near my room,” he whispered fearfully. Then he turned around and ran. I watched his retreating figure then turned to face Noelle. There was something about her that Molly hadn’t noticed in their countless sleepovers. In the dark of the night, Noelle looked terrifying.
By Gwen Wood
CRASH!
Molly instantly sat upright, suddenly fully alert. She looked toward the large patio window that overlooked the back yard and her ears strained to pick up any sound coming from that direction. What could have caused a crash like that? Could it be that stupid dog, Chester, finally returning home? "It better be him", she muttered to herself. She had spent hours calling for him, all to no avail.
Slowly standing up, Molly walked toward the patio door. Looking out, she could see none of the overgrown yard or the creepy trees that crowded the yard like tall, dark skeletons. All that she could see was her own frightened reflection in the glass. She flicked the switch for the back light.
Darkness.
A burnt out bulb; just my luck, she thought.
The last thing Molly wanted to do was to go out there. She could hear the trees swaying in the breeze, the creaking of their branches as they jostled for space in the unkempt yard.
Resigned to what she must do, Molly breathed a deep sigh and slid the patio door open. The night air held a chill and the wind had picked up. Blown by the wind, dry leaves rattled and crackled against the fence. Barely just stepping out onto the patio, Molly called, "Chester? Chester?" Once again she strained her ears, stood still, and listened hopefully for a reply. Nothing came. Daring to take a few more steps out into the back yard, she called again, "Chester?" Still, no reply. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, partly to guard against the chill that had set in, and party to help ease the fear that had crept into her. All around her was darkness. The moon was covered by clouds, and the only light came from within the house. Nothing but dark swaying shapes could be seen beyond the patio.
As Molly took a few more steps off the patio, she stumbled over something and nearly fell. Badly shaken, she felt in the darkness and righted the plastic tricycle she had just tripped on. "Stupid kids" she muttered to herself.
Reluctant to venture further into the cluttered yard, Molly took one last glance around the yard and turned her heels to return inside. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a tall, white form, like that of a man, in the farthest corner of the yard. Molly did a double take, trying to better make out what she had only barely glimpsed. But when she returned her gaze to that dark, shadowed corner, it was gone. Nothing but the dark shapes of trees remained.
By Tom Armbrister
The noise made Molly bolt upright! Whatever had made the crashing sound was close. It sounded like something heavy slamming against a tree or rock somewhere out beyond the huge front porch of the old house. Molly was in the upstairs front guest bedroom, and she thought, “Everything about this house makes me nervous.”
The windows didn’t have blinds and curtains on them like “normal” houses. No! This one had roll-up blinds and flimsy white sheer curtains like Molly had seen in some old black and white movie. One of the old blinds had suddenly snapped and rolled itself up when Molly was putting Jackie, the two year old to bed earlier. It had caused Molly to practically jump out of her skin, and Jackie to begin to scream with fright. It took forever to get him calmed down again. And oh yes, and that unnerving screeeeching and scraaaaping of the ancient tree limbs was getting worse with the increasing wind. It seemed to Molly that the wind was beginning to moan in rhythm with those menacing limbs.
She walked to the window, moved the ugly lace curtain aside, and ever so gently eased the edge of the old shade outward, just enough to peek out. Oh my! The bolt of lightening almost blinded Molly. She jumped back, forgetting to release the shade that jerked out of her hand and rolled up with an alarming SNAP! Her heart was racing, and she found herself holding her breath. “What was that I saw just before the lightening flashed?” Molly asked herself. It looked like someone standing just outside the old iron gate.
The walkway leading up to the house was made of old and much worn red bricks, just like the ones still found in some of the oldest streets in Richmond. Molly wondered about the rusty wrought iron gate that stood guard to the walkway. That was another eerie thing about this house. What was with that wolf’s head? The gate had a top bar made like a bow… like a bow and arrow bow placed with the string side down. And where the bow handle would be, there was a wolf’s head, also made of iron. There was a mechanism attached to the head that made it rotate, so that the wolf’s face with its “wild” eyes and snarling “grin” faced whoever approached the gate. And then, as the gate was opened, the head would turn to follow your entry, and then continue back around to face the next visitor as the gate was closed.
“Turn the light off, you dummy,” she whispered to herself.
Molly dropped to her knees, crawled over to the night stand beside the bed and slowly reached up and pulled the chain on the antique desk lamp. Crawling back to the uncovered window, she slowly, ever so slowly, raised her head to the level of the sill. Then it happened. That hair-raising howl of a wolf, followed immediately by an ear-shattering peal of thunder!
By Alexandra Smith
Every nerve inside Molly pulsed at once as she jerked herself out of her chair. She practically flew up the stairs, her heart racing faster than her feet. She yanked open the door to her cousins’ bedroom. The 2-year-old, sucking his thumb, was tucked snugly into his crib. The other boys snored softly in their bunk bed. Neither had fallen out, as Molly had feared. Still with an uneasy feeling in the pit of her empty stomach, she shut the door and tiptoed down the stairs.
Creeeeaak.
Molly froze. But soon she realized that she was on the third step from the bottom, and that step always creaked. She sighed loudly and placed a hand on her racing heart. Her adrenaline still high, Molly wandered into the den. Roxy, the beagle, was safely locked in her kennel. She sat alert, turned her big brown eyes to Molly, and whimpered.
Molly knelt by the cage and reached in to scratch Roxy’s ears. “It’s okay, girl,” Molly whispered, though she wasn’t so sure herself.
Molly took her fingers back out of the dog’s kennel and heard a low growl. Before she could react, though, she realized that her own stomach had made the noise. She hurried to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, pulling out the only piece of pizza left. Wondering how in the world three boys, each less than half her size, could cram so much into their little stomachs, Molly collapsed onto the raggedy sofa in the corner of the dimly lit den. Ignoring Roxy’s whining, Molly bit into the thick, cool cheese and picked up the TV remote. She flipped on the tube and got nothing but snow. Molly groaned and dropped the remote on the couch. As she shoved the rest of her pizza into her mouth, Molly wondered if the crash she had heard could have been the satellite dish. She shivered as she looked out the window into the cold, swirling night.
Scraaaape.
The tree branches clawed at the glass. Molly swallowed her pizza with difficulty and stepped outside, despite Roxy’s warning barks.
The wild wind whipped Molly’s long, dark hair every which way. Squinting, she stepped barefoot through the grass, dodging mini-whirlwinds of dead leaves. Her teeth began to chatter as she longed for her sweater. She stepped on a twig, nearly giving herself a heart attack. As she turned around, her bangs stung her cheeks. She looked to the roof and saw the satellite dish precariously lying on its side, rolling back and forth as if locked in a fitful dream.
Eager to trade the charcoal sky for a painted ceiling, Molly made for the door, only to find she had locked herself out. More disappointed and scared than ever, she jogged around the house to the front door. The backyard gate squealed like a cat as she passed through.
CRASH!
The sound was right behind her this time. She wheeled around, and a scream was caught in her throat.
By Caroline Shenenberger, 8 years old
Molly ran out of the kitchen door to see what had happened. To her surprise, a giant oak tree had fallen in the back yard. In the middle of the fog the fallen tree looked a little “funky” but Molly could see a person wearing a mask who had jumped up in front of her all of the sudden.
“Eeeeeeeee!” screamed Molly at the very strange and unexpected site.
She could see a small lock of hair coming from the mask. Molly frowned and ripped off the mask. Dylan, the 5 year-old brother made a sour face and ran into the house and up to his room. Molly followed him inside and closed the door behind her. She glanced over at the calendar and sighed.
“Tomorrow is Halloween!” she moaned, sadly to herself. She had left her costume at home she remembered! She slunked upstairs to her room, checked to make sure her cousins were all asleep before changing into her pajamas and collapsed onto the bed, exhausted from her first terrible day away from her friend Noelle.
The next morning she and her cousins were having breakfast when they heard a knock at the front door. To her surprise it was her parents with her Halloween costume! Her parents said that they couldn’t let her miss Halloween so they thought they would come up to surprise her. And as a DOUBLE surprise she saw her friend Noelle get out of the car with a big basket of most plump and juicy mulberries she had ever seen!
“Yay!” she yelled excitedly running past her parents to hug Noelle.
“Let’s eat them!” said Noelle, running into the house with Molly.
The two older boys quickly lost their mischevious behavior and immediately grabbed for the mulberrys.
Molly said “OK, you can have some…. BUT you have to be nice to Noelle and I …. And not be yourselves!”
Dylan and Mike, his 4 year-old brother said “OK, we promise…. Now give us some berries!” And they dove into the basket like they had never seen mulberries before!
Molly went up to her parents and gave them both a big hug then she told them about the tree “incident” and thanked them for coming and bringing Noelle with them.
“This is going to be the BEST Halloween ever!” she announced to the room. “But, I think I’ll stay away from trees!”
Mother cleaned up the breakfast dishes while Dad went out to see what he could do about the tree. Molly and Noelle gave the boys their own generous bowl of berries and took the rest upstairs to make plans for their exciting Halloween night!
By Marty Asire
First a crash and then a thud followed by a muffled sound that sounded like someone trying to hold their breath just as it was being knocked out of them.
Darn those kids, thought Molly. The older two had probably climbed out their upstairs window and tried to shimmy down the tree so they could run screeching around the backyard in an attempt to scare the daylights out of her. Well, they didn’t need to worry – she sure wouldn’t be coming back here to babysit anytime soon. She would promise to clean bathrooms and do laundry for an entire month before she would let mom talk her into coming back. These kids were more than any one human should have to bear.
As tempting as it was to leave them out there in the dark, Molly decided to go out and bring the little rascals inside. Still, it might be fun to give them a little scare of their own.
Instead of turning on the back door light, Molly found a small flashlight. Remembering the times when she and her friends would sit around a summer campfire and tell scary stories while holding flashlights beneath their chins, she decided to give the boys a taste of their own medicine. Hearing them scream in terror would almost make up for the kind of day she had had.
Ducking down low so that they wouldn’t be able to see her moving around the kitchen, Molly made her way to the back door. She reached up, took hold of the knob and turned it as silently as possible. Without realizing that she was holding her breath, Molly slowly opened the door. Staying crouched over, she crept out onto the darkened porch holding the flashlight beneath her face. Knowing that she would look terrifying to the boys, it was all she could do to stifle a giggle. This was going to be good.
Maybe she should throw in a good groan or two just for good measure.
Molly let out a low moan while looking into the darkness of the backyard. Surely her lit up face and ghoulish sounds would make the boys scream, revealing wherever they might have hidden themselves. But there was only silence. Another moan. Still silence.
Disgusted that once again, those terrible boys were taking the fun out of everything, Molly turned her flashlight into the backyard.
EEAAAAHHHH!! she screamed as her mind tried to comprehend what the light of the flashlight revealed.
By Kim Porter
Her heart stopped in mid beat. As the cold sweat broke out on her forehead, she was torn between crawling under that very table or setting out into the dark with a flashlight to make sure everything was ok. Doing neither, she got up and crept to each window, taking a quick glance outside for something out of the ordinary before drawing the blinds as quickly as possible.
She had gotten around to all of the windows except for the one that overlooked the entryway of the house. Feeling as if eyes were beaming through a crack in the wall, watching her every move, she slid along the foyer until she reached the window. Hoping she would see nothing, her eyes peeked out from around the plaid panel drapes that hung on either side of the window.
Panic struck when she saw a 1950’s Oldsmobile wrapped around the large oak tree planted at the end of her uncle’s driveway. There was no sign of movement, no other sounds, except for those trees. Their steady motion back and forth made her vision momentarily fog over.
She thought she had mentally prepared herself for manning this house alone, especially with the storm that had been predicted to come through before the morning. Intervening like usual, her parents just had to talk her aunt and uncle out of staying home. Her thoughts of annoyance were broken when the rain started. It didn’t begin in a drizzle and slowly creep to a steady downfall like a Sunday afternoon shower. It came at once, so hard that she was struck with the image of cats and dogs bouncing off the metal roof of this forsaken house.
Nevertheless, she was stuck here. As she reached up to draw the blinds, hoping someone else had seen the car accident and had already phoned 911, her eyes caught movement. Not much, but enough to make her break a sweat through her thin cardigan sweater. Slamming the blinds down against the window sill, she turned to run to the phone in the kitchen. Her father would know what she should do. In mid stride, the power went dead and being unfamiliar with the house, her foot caught the edge of the coffee table and sent her flying. She connected with the hardwood floors seconds later.
Slightly disoriented, she staggered to her feet. Carefully this time, Molly edged into the kitchen and located the phone. Unfortunately, it was a cordless phone and it had gone with the power. Too bad her parents thought she was too young or else she would have had a cell phone attached to her hip like every other fourteen year old back home.
She heard one of the boys thrashing around in his sleep upstairs. With the events of the last three and a half minutes, they had completely slipped her mind. Molly started up the steps and was frozen in place when she heard three long slow blows against the front door.
By Julie Kephart-Jones
Fifteen second is a long time in the mind of a teenager.
Molly’s mind skipped through several thoughts: SCREAM…RUN…LOOK?...WHAT WAS THAT?...CHECK THE BOYS…RUN…SCREAM…LOOK…But no sound came from her adrenalin-pumped senses.
As she slowly stood, her disembodied face appeared in the kitchen window, nearly sending her into another mind-fit. Yet the overriding survival instinct of “listen” held her tongue.
Her mind searched for sounds: creaking, groaning, thumping. She realized with dawning clarity that she was particularly listening for footsteps. Why?
She quickly and furtively ran to all the outside doors, checking the locks. There were heavy deadbolts at every door, including the door to the basement with no exterior openings. She checked the locks, and then scanned the windows on her way to the stairs. Here, too, there were deadbolts, all engaged.
Her thoughts were disjointed: Why did her uncle and aunt have so many locks? All the boys were sound asleep in their beds... How had the boys sleep through that noise? All upstairs windows locks engaged…Why deadbolts on upstairs windows? Why hadn’t she heard Buddy barking? She distinctly remembered Buddy bounding back to the gate just before she slammed it shut.
Padding back downstairs, she finally noticed she was out of breath, and simply collapsed into the nearest chair.
Molly had few fears as a child. Darkness and shadows had always been simple annoyances, signaling the end of play. She remembered the Halloween she and Noelle were ten. They decided they were too old for costumes and door-to-door knocking. They rode there bikes in the dark, no lights or reflectors, and tried to scare the little kids in costumes. They had laughed and laughed at their fearless adventure…
Now, like a slow-motion movie, Molly remembered observing the large photo of her cousins next to the French doors, rattling against the wall. Perhaps a tree limb hit the house. She got up, sidled to the side of the doors, and snapped on the lights.
She cautiously looked out. Floodlight streamed across the toy-riddled backyard, and abruptly stopped at the fence thirty feet away. She scanned left and right, but nothing seemed amiss. The gate was shut, and Toys, swing set, doghouse, were all in quiet repose.
Scraaaape…
Then, she noticed the edge of the deck. About a foot of the corner was splintered. Relief flooded Molly, like a warm blanket. She even smiled at her own silliness. Of course, a rotted limb had broken and dropped. Uncle John could easily fix that.
As she turned to go back to her former teenage angst, a thought struck her that made her head snapped back to the door. There was no tree limb, or anything else in the vicinity of the broken deck. She wasn’t good at estimating distances, but she was pretty sure the trees did not stretch very far over the yard.
A previous thought descending over her psyche like a bucket of ice water.
Where is Buddy?
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