Post by ponyiowa on Nov 2, 2011 18:44:21 GMT -5
I had to write a scary story because my Writing teacher made us for this Short and Spooky writing unit, probably because of the upcoming Halloween. So I thought, why don't I post it here as a late Halloween story? And, here it is! ;D (By the way, it's in present tense, though I usually write in past tense,and very long too.)
I sit up straighter in my saddle as an owl hoots. Its calls pierce the still night air.
“Jeez, Kendra,” laughs my friend Addie. “It’s just an owl!” I twist around to look at my friend, who is only a few paces behind me. Of course it was just an owl--for her anyway. Addie isn’t afraid of anything.
I’m not a scaredy-cat or anything, but every normal person has at least a few fears. I’m not scared of owls either, but combine that with riding out a cold, dark, night, in a scary forest, on a bet to go to one of the spookiest places in our medium sized town, Cedar Hills, and I think anyone would be scared.
We’re out here is because Addie and I took a bet where we have to go into the old haunted stables and explore it, from other friends, Angelica and Carrie. Actually, Addie took the bet, and I’m just here along for the ride, pun intended. But now I’m starting to have second thoughts about accompanying my friend on this bet of hers.
We’d agreed that Addie and I would ride ahead, while Angelica and Carrie would follow, at a distance, from behind. While I have been deep in thought, we have been getting closer to our scary destination.
“We’re almost there!” Addie whoops excitedly as we crest a small hill deep in the woods. “And now we are there!” she adds as we start to trot downward.
As we head closer to the Stables I can see why this place was easily the scariest place in Cedar Hills. A wooden building is in the distance. It must be the main house where the office was, I think. Next to the main office is an big building, which I thought must be the Stables.
“Let’s go!” Addie shouts to me, and with a gentle nudge to her horse’s side, send her and her blood bay horse, Starfire, running down the hill at full tilt.
My palomino horse, Cresta, snorts in a way that almost sounds disdainful. I agree with her. “It’s okay, girl,” I tells her, reaching down to pat her golden neck. “I’m not as excited to get there as Addie and Starfire are.” At the foot of the hill is a cracked and faded sign hangs off of a wooden signpost. I have to squint hard to make out the letters: Cedar Hills Stables. Weeds sprout at the bottom and around, where otherwise all other plants and greens have died.
I get the feeling that someone, or something, is watching us, and I shiver--not just because I’m cold, though that’s part of it. I should have brought a jacket.
Addie doesn’t seem bothered by the spooky atmosphere and is practically bouncing in her saddle. “Hey, Angelica, Carrie!” she shouts into the air. “Get ready to watch, because we’re coming into the Stables!”
I wince. Her voice is very loud and I’m quite sure that if there are any supposed ghosts around, they now know we’re here and are lying in wait for us. What a happy thought.
Before I can have too much time to dwell on my melancholy thoughts, Addie slips off Starfire and leads her toward a wooden leading post, her objective being to tie Starfire there while she and I complete our bet. I copy her. As I turn to go, Cresta nickers urgently and reaches out to nip my shirt sleeve. I comfort her with a pat on the nose.
“I’ll be back soon, girl. Just wait here and be good.”
With those parting words, I follow Addie through the main office door.
* * * * * *
We enter into a small waiting area. It is square shaped and on the far side of the room are a door and a window with closed blinds right next to it. The plush covered seats are decorated with a layer of dust, as is everything else in the room. Our footprints leave clean empty crevices on the creaky wooden floor.
Creak. Creak. Creak. At least I sure hope that’s our footprints.
Addie stops suddenly, so I do too.
“Look,” she says in a hollow whisper, reaching up to point a finger at something on the Cedar Hills Stables bulletin.
I follow her finger and immediately see what’s causing Addie to whisper. A yellow, stained newspaper clipping is pinned onto the wall with a bright red tack. The metal point is rusty with age. The newspaper article’s title reads: “Accident on Track: Will Cedar Hills Stables ever be able to capture its reputation again?” The date is September 4, 1940.
I suddenly remember a little tidbit that I’d picked up: in addition to being a stable and boarding horses, Cedar Hills Stables also raced horses in competitions. I continue reading.
“Callie Smith, 13 years old, was severely injured in the huge race this past Saturday. She was riding a mare from Cedar Hills Stables, Spirit Dancer, when Spirit Dancer suddenly slipped out of Callie’s control. With Spirit Dancer’s wild bucking and rearing, it was inevitable that Callie soon fell off, breaking her spine and becoming paralyzed from the waist down. Spirit Dancer also fell after attempting to jump but being tangled up in her reins, jumped short and broke her neck.
“Strangely enough, soon all the other horses from Cedar Hills Stables began acting up too, though none of their riders were as badly injured as Ms. Smith was. However, Phantom Ghost, a dappled gray stallion rode by Emily Sandton, eventually brought himself into such a frenzy that he collapsed and broke his front right leg, causing him to sadly be put down.
“A quote from Emily Sandton: ‘I don’t understand it. It was a perfect day. I had just told Phantom to trot forward, and then there was suddenly a ruckus when that pinto, Spirit Dancer, began bucking and twisting. Next all the other Cedar Hills Stables horses were doing it, plus my dear Phantom. I quickly jumped off, causing a sprained ankle, but the one who suffered the most was poor Phantom who broke his leg and had to be put down. I just don’t understand it. It had been the perfect day.’”
Below is a part of an article titled “Huge Earthquake hits in Cedar Hills in the early morning of September 5, 1940”, which I didn’t pay much attention to. And that was the end of the newspaper clipping. I look at Addie, who looks scared. “Wow, I didn’t know that about Cedar Hills Stables.”
Addie pulls herself together and says, “Come on,” to me. We walk out of the waiting room to the actual main office. A large desk sits by the door. A pen and paper lay on the desk, forgotten forever. More plush covered chairs align the walls. Certificates decorate the wall, proclaiming Cedar Hills Stables’s accomplishments. However, when I look at them, the most recent one is from 1939.
This room doesn’t seem as scary, but then I witness something bone-chilling: the pen slowly uncaps itself and then begins to write on the paper. I grip Addie’s arm and whispers, “Look at the pen.”
She does, and draws in a sharp breath.
As much as I don’t want to, I’m curious of what the pen is writing. I slowly walk over and begin to read it upside down.
“What are you doing here?” the pen writes.
“We’re on a bet,” I answer, feeling a bit ridiculous to be talking to a pen. “Who are you?”
“No one you need to know.”
"Um, okay then. Uh, I just wanted to say that if we disturb this place or anything, we’re sorry but we really need to do this bet.”
For a long moment, the pen doesn’t write anything. Finally, its reply appears:
“Beware.”
Then it recaps itself and lies silently back down on the now used piece of paper. I stare at the pen for a second more, not wanting to believe what just happened, but I know it’s true.
“Come on, we still have to go to the actual stables part,” I tell Addie, and we head out of the back door.
We come around to the front of the Stables and head in. The large doors are also wooden and the smell of rotting wood fills the air, making me gag. The building is fairly large for a stable, but its layout is simple: just one long corridor extending down with a row of horse stalls on either side. On the right side of the corridor though, halfway down the row, is another hallway that must lead to the tack room.
Addie and I slowly walk through the aisle, looking around. I still have the feeling that someone or something is watching us, though, but I don’t remark on this feeling to Addie.
I suddenly think of Carrie and Angelina. Where are they? I can’t hear them, so maybe they’re the feeling that I have of being watched.
To interest myself while I walk, I began reading the names of the horses on the plaques that are on each stall door.
“Sienna Mist. Cherry Dumpling. Thunderstriker. Spirit Dancer. Phantom Ghost,” I recite, recognizing the last two names from that ancient scary article.
Suddenly, the stable doors, which had been open before, slam shut with a bang! My heart is pounding faster than it ever as before.
“Carrie? Angelica?” Addie calls. “If you’re doing that, it’s not funny!”
Somehow I think that it’s not them.
I hear a thumping noise from somewhere, and I elbow Addie with a whispered, “Do you hear that?” She listens, and then nods slowly.
As the sound gets closer I can hear that it’s actually hoof-beats, like from a horse. Then the back barn doors fly open (which reveals that a paddock is behind the stable) and I can’t believe my eyes.
Two proud horses gallop through the doorway, coming to a stop before us: a pinto mare and a dappled gray stallion. They snort and roll their eyes at us.
“Spirit Dancer and Phantom Ghost,” I breathe to Addie, to which she answers with another nod.
The horses look beautiful and strong, which makes me suddenly step forward and try to pat Phantom on the nose. They immediately step back, but not before my hand reaches Phantom’s nose...and then goes through.
They were just what I expected: ghosts.
“Hi,” I address them shyly. “Um, sorry if we are disturbing your resting place, but we’re on a bet, like I explained to the pen, so....yeah.” I trail off as the two horses focus their eyes on me and stare.
“Do you want us to go now?” Addie suddenly asks.
The mare and stallion swing their heads toward Addie, and I suddenly notice that the middle of the mare’s neck is crooked and that her head swing is much looser than the stallion’s, and I know why. Looking down, I also discover that the stallion’s right front leg (which looks like his left front leg from my perspective) is at an angle and that he holds it slightly off the ground. Poor Phantom.
Spirit Dancer snorts, and for some reason I know she’s saying “no”.
“Then...do you want us to do something for you?” I ask, remembering that sometimes ghosts hung around because they still had something left to do.
“Yes!” a voice pops into my head.
Addie and I both jump, so I know she’s heard it in her head too. Phantom whinnies, and I get the feeling that he’s laughing at us.
“Don’t worry, it’s just us talking,” a feminine voice assures us, which wasn't assuring at all.. Aren't talking ghost horses in my head supposed to be weird?
“Anyway, to get to the point,” the voice who said “yes”, Phantom, says, “we are here to explain why we acted up that day a long time ago. You see, we felt that there was an earthquake coming--”
“A massive earthquake,” Spirit Dancer chimes in.
“--so we needed to warn our riders and everyone else. The other horses from other places didn’t feel it because they weren’t accustomed to tremors and earthquakes like we are in Cedar Hills,” Phantom continues. “When they wouldn’t listen, we resorted to more desperate measures, eventually killing ourselves. So then we waited until someone brave enough, like you two, would come that we could tell our story to.”
“So now what?” I ask, confused. “Do you want us to tell that to a newspaper or something?” Yeah, that would sure go over well.
Spirit Dancer shakes her head, making her bi-colored mane wave in the air. “No, we just wanted someone to know our real story, and thank you for listening. But now you must go. A huge earthquake is coming, perhaps in a few minutes.” “But we didn’t explore all of--” Addie begins, but I grab her arm and begin tugging her toward the door.
“Thanks!” I call toward the horses, who are already beginning to fade away. They whinny in reply, then fade into thin air.
Addie and I race toward the front stable doors, which are open again. Outside, Starfire and Cresta are neighing and trying to pull free of their tethers, already feeling the first tremors of the earthquake.
We quickly untie them, hop on, and start at a full gallop. We’re just at the top of the hill where there’s a huge explosion sound and cracks begin spreading in the ground around the Stables. A huge one opens, and the two buildings fall in, swallowing the remains of Cedar Hills Stables. Only the sign remains. Then all is silent.
Turning back into the woods with a sigh of relief, we are met with Angelica, Carrie, and their horses.
“Sorry, we lost track of you and couldn’t keep up!” Carrie says with her eyes wide. “What was that explosion we just heard a few seconds ago?”
Both of us answer, “Nothing”, and then smile secretly at each other.
“Well, did you go into the Stables?” Angelica asks.
“Yep,” I answer.
All of us nudge our horses into trots and Addie starts giving the details, leaving out the pen and paper & ghost horse parts, of course. Angelica and Carrie are listening attentively, but I’m thinking about Spirit Dancer and Phantom Ghost. And I promise myself, “I’ll never forget them.”
In the distance, two faint whinnies can be heard in reply.
I sit up straighter in my saddle as an owl hoots. Its calls pierce the still night air.
“Jeez, Kendra,” laughs my friend Addie. “It’s just an owl!” I twist around to look at my friend, who is only a few paces behind me. Of course it was just an owl--for her anyway. Addie isn’t afraid of anything.
I’m not a scaredy-cat or anything, but every normal person has at least a few fears. I’m not scared of owls either, but combine that with riding out a cold, dark, night, in a scary forest, on a bet to go to one of the spookiest places in our medium sized town, Cedar Hills, and I think anyone would be scared.
We’re out here is because Addie and I took a bet where we have to go into the old haunted stables and explore it, from other friends, Angelica and Carrie. Actually, Addie took the bet, and I’m just here along for the ride, pun intended. But now I’m starting to have second thoughts about accompanying my friend on this bet of hers.
We’d agreed that Addie and I would ride ahead, while Angelica and Carrie would follow, at a distance, from behind. While I have been deep in thought, we have been getting closer to our scary destination.
“We’re almost there!” Addie whoops excitedly as we crest a small hill deep in the woods. “And now we are there!” she adds as we start to trot downward.
As we head closer to the Stables I can see why this place was easily the scariest place in Cedar Hills. A wooden building is in the distance. It must be the main house where the office was, I think. Next to the main office is an big building, which I thought must be the Stables.
“Let’s go!” Addie shouts to me, and with a gentle nudge to her horse’s side, send her and her blood bay horse, Starfire, running down the hill at full tilt.
My palomino horse, Cresta, snorts in a way that almost sounds disdainful. I agree with her. “It’s okay, girl,” I tells her, reaching down to pat her golden neck. “I’m not as excited to get there as Addie and Starfire are.” At the foot of the hill is a cracked and faded sign hangs off of a wooden signpost. I have to squint hard to make out the letters: Cedar Hills Stables. Weeds sprout at the bottom and around, where otherwise all other plants and greens have died.
I get the feeling that someone, or something, is watching us, and I shiver--not just because I’m cold, though that’s part of it. I should have brought a jacket.
Addie doesn’t seem bothered by the spooky atmosphere and is practically bouncing in her saddle. “Hey, Angelica, Carrie!” she shouts into the air. “Get ready to watch, because we’re coming into the Stables!”
I wince. Her voice is very loud and I’m quite sure that if there are any supposed ghosts around, they now know we’re here and are lying in wait for us. What a happy thought.
Before I can have too much time to dwell on my melancholy thoughts, Addie slips off Starfire and leads her toward a wooden leading post, her objective being to tie Starfire there while she and I complete our bet. I copy her. As I turn to go, Cresta nickers urgently and reaches out to nip my shirt sleeve. I comfort her with a pat on the nose.
“I’ll be back soon, girl. Just wait here and be good.”
With those parting words, I follow Addie through the main office door.
* * * * * *
We enter into a small waiting area. It is square shaped and on the far side of the room are a door and a window with closed blinds right next to it. The plush covered seats are decorated with a layer of dust, as is everything else in the room. Our footprints leave clean empty crevices on the creaky wooden floor.
Creak. Creak. Creak. At least I sure hope that’s our footprints.
Addie stops suddenly, so I do too.
“Look,” she says in a hollow whisper, reaching up to point a finger at something on the Cedar Hills Stables bulletin.
I follow her finger and immediately see what’s causing Addie to whisper. A yellow, stained newspaper clipping is pinned onto the wall with a bright red tack. The metal point is rusty with age. The newspaper article’s title reads: “Accident on Track: Will Cedar Hills Stables ever be able to capture its reputation again?” The date is September 4, 1940.
I suddenly remember a little tidbit that I’d picked up: in addition to being a stable and boarding horses, Cedar Hills Stables also raced horses in competitions. I continue reading.
“Callie Smith, 13 years old, was severely injured in the huge race this past Saturday. She was riding a mare from Cedar Hills Stables, Spirit Dancer, when Spirit Dancer suddenly slipped out of Callie’s control. With Spirit Dancer’s wild bucking and rearing, it was inevitable that Callie soon fell off, breaking her spine and becoming paralyzed from the waist down. Spirit Dancer also fell after attempting to jump but being tangled up in her reins, jumped short and broke her neck.
“Strangely enough, soon all the other horses from Cedar Hills Stables began acting up too, though none of their riders were as badly injured as Ms. Smith was. However, Phantom Ghost, a dappled gray stallion rode by Emily Sandton, eventually brought himself into such a frenzy that he collapsed and broke his front right leg, causing him to sadly be put down.
“A quote from Emily Sandton: ‘I don’t understand it. It was a perfect day. I had just told Phantom to trot forward, and then there was suddenly a ruckus when that pinto, Spirit Dancer, began bucking and twisting. Next all the other Cedar Hills Stables horses were doing it, plus my dear Phantom. I quickly jumped off, causing a sprained ankle, but the one who suffered the most was poor Phantom who broke his leg and had to be put down. I just don’t understand it. It had been the perfect day.’”
Below is a part of an article titled “Huge Earthquake hits in Cedar Hills in the early morning of September 5, 1940”, which I didn’t pay much attention to. And that was the end of the newspaper clipping. I look at Addie, who looks scared. “Wow, I didn’t know that about Cedar Hills Stables.”
Addie pulls herself together and says, “Come on,” to me. We walk out of the waiting room to the actual main office. A large desk sits by the door. A pen and paper lay on the desk, forgotten forever. More plush covered chairs align the walls. Certificates decorate the wall, proclaiming Cedar Hills Stables’s accomplishments. However, when I look at them, the most recent one is from 1939.
This room doesn’t seem as scary, but then I witness something bone-chilling: the pen slowly uncaps itself and then begins to write on the paper. I grip Addie’s arm and whispers, “Look at the pen.”
She does, and draws in a sharp breath.
As much as I don’t want to, I’m curious of what the pen is writing. I slowly walk over and begin to read it upside down.
“What are you doing here?” the pen writes.
“We’re on a bet,” I answer, feeling a bit ridiculous to be talking to a pen. “Who are you?”
“No one you need to know.”
"Um, okay then. Uh, I just wanted to say that if we disturb this place or anything, we’re sorry but we really need to do this bet.”
For a long moment, the pen doesn’t write anything. Finally, its reply appears:
“Beware.”
Then it recaps itself and lies silently back down on the now used piece of paper. I stare at the pen for a second more, not wanting to believe what just happened, but I know it’s true.
“Come on, we still have to go to the actual stables part,” I tell Addie, and we head out of the back door.
We come around to the front of the Stables and head in. The large doors are also wooden and the smell of rotting wood fills the air, making me gag. The building is fairly large for a stable, but its layout is simple: just one long corridor extending down with a row of horse stalls on either side. On the right side of the corridor though, halfway down the row, is another hallway that must lead to the tack room.
Addie and I slowly walk through the aisle, looking around. I still have the feeling that someone or something is watching us, though, but I don’t remark on this feeling to Addie.
I suddenly think of Carrie and Angelina. Where are they? I can’t hear them, so maybe they’re the feeling that I have of being watched.
To interest myself while I walk, I began reading the names of the horses on the plaques that are on each stall door.
“Sienna Mist. Cherry Dumpling. Thunderstriker. Spirit Dancer. Phantom Ghost,” I recite, recognizing the last two names from that ancient scary article.
Suddenly, the stable doors, which had been open before, slam shut with a bang! My heart is pounding faster than it ever as before.
“Carrie? Angelica?” Addie calls. “If you’re doing that, it’s not funny!”
Somehow I think that it’s not them.
I hear a thumping noise from somewhere, and I elbow Addie with a whispered, “Do you hear that?” She listens, and then nods slowly.
As the sound gets closer I can hear that it’s actually hoof-beats, like from a horse. Then the back barn doors fly open (which reveals that a paddock is behind the stable) and I can’t believe my eyes.
Two proud horses gallop through the doorway, coming to a stop before us: a pinto mare and a dappled gray stallion. They snort and roll their eyes at us.
“Spirit Dancer and Phantom Ghost,” I breathe to Addie, to which she answers with another nod.
The horses look beautiful and strong, which makes me suddenly step forward and try to pat Phantom on the nose. They immediately step back, but not before my hand reaches Phantom’s nose...and then goes through.
They were just what I expected: ghosts.
“Hi,” I address them shyly. “Um, sorry if we are disturbing your resting place, but we’re on a bet, like I explained to the pen, so....yeah.” I trail off as the two horses focus their eyes on me and stare.
“Do you want us to go now?” Addie suddenly asks.
The mare and stallion swing their heads toward Addie, and I suddenly notice that the middle of the mare’s neck is crooked and that her head swing is much looser than the stallion’s, and I know why. Looking down, I also discover that the stallion’s right front leg (which looks like his left front leg from my perspective) is at an angle and that he holds it slightly off the ground. Poor Phantom.
Spirit Dancer snorts, and for some reason I know she’s saying “no”.
“Then...do you want us to do something for you?” I ask, remembering that sometimes ghosts hung around because they still had something left to do.
“Yes!” a voice pops into my head.
Addie and I both jump, so I know she’s heard it in her head too. Phantom whinnies, and I get the feeling that he’s laughing at us.
“Don’t worry, it’s just us talking,” a feminine voice assures us, which wasn't assuring at all.. Aren't talking ghost horses in my head supposed to be weird?
“Anyway, to get to the point,” the voice who said “yes”, Phantom, says, “we are here to explain why we acted up that day a long time ago. You see, we felt that there was an earthquake coming--”
“A massive earthquake,” Spirit Dancer chimes in.
“--so we needed to warn our riders and everyone else. The other horses from other places didn’t feel it because they weren’t accustomed to tremors and earthquakes like we are in Cedar Hills,” Phantom continues. “When they wouldn’t listen, we resorted to more desperate measures, eventually killing ourselves. So then we waited until someone brave enough, like you two, would come that we could tell our story to.”
“So now what?” I ask, confused. “Do you want us to tell that to a newspaper or something?” Yeah, that would sure go over well.
Spirit Dancer shakes her head, making her bi-colored mane wave in the air. “No, we just wanted someone to know our real story, and thank you for listening. But now you must go. A huge earthquake is coming, perhaps in a few minutes.” “But we didn’t explore all of--” Addie begins, but I grab her arm and begin tugging her toward the door.
“Thanks!” I call toward the horses, who are already beginning to fade away. They whinny in reply, then fade into thin air.
Addie and I race toward the front stable doors, which are open again. Outside, Starfire and Cresta are neighing and trying to pull free of their tethers, already feeling the first tremors of the earthquake.
We quickly untie them, hop on, and start at a full gallop. We’re just at the top of the hill where there’s a huge explosion sound and cracks begin spreading in the ground around the Stables. A huge one opens, and the two buildings fall in, swallowing the remains of Cedar Hills Stables. Only the sign remains. Then all is silent.
Turning back into the woods with a sigh of relief, we are met with Angelica, Carrie, and their horses.
“Sorry, we lost track of you and couldn’t keep up!” Carrie says with her eyes wide. “What was that explosion we just heard a few seconds ago?”
Both of us answer, “Nothing”, and then smile secretly at each other.
“Well, did you go into the Stables?” Angelica asks.
“Yep,” I answer.
All of us nudge our horses into trots and Addie starts giving the details, leaving out the pen and paper & ghost horse parts, of course. Angelica and Carrie are listening attentively, but I’m thinking about Spirit Dancer and Phantom Ghost. And I promise myself, “I’ll never forget them.”
In the distance, two faint whinnies can be heard in reply.
You probably will get an A+.
Unfortunately my homeroom teacher hasn't asked us to write anything like that yet. 