Mary's Wood by H.G.

2001 9th nov: No one ever went through Mary’s woods. The wait was over .
Halloween had arrived. My friends and I had been looking forward to it for a long
time. Me and my friends range from sixteen to eighteen in age. We’ve been friends
for years and Halloween was our favourite night of the year .Only thing is that I
live next to a place where people have been known to disappear , they found one
girl dead here last year actually..It’s called Mary’s woods.

We said we would stay away from it. It had reached eight o’clock and we were out.
My friend who is eighteen, john brought out some drinks...Like beer. We were on
our way to an outing with a bonfire when we drove by Mary’s woods. John was
driving . He put his foot on the brake slowly as we approached by the woods . I
asked him what he was doing and told him to drive .We were late as it was.

Myself, Jay and Connor looked at each other, Connor told John to listen to me and
go ahead. John had a curios look upon his face. I was thinking if he was to even
attempt to get out and go into the woods, I would pull him back. He put his eyes
back on the road and pressed the accelerator. We sat there in silence. How long till
were there? Were not even near yet ! said john. Okay okay, calm down. Something
wrong? I asked. No . He kept silent for a while . He started to twitch and shake a
bit while driving. What are you doing ? I asked. He did not reply, he pulled over. We

all got out of the car. John was walking left to right panicing . Jay got frustrated
and tackled john to the ground. What are you at! ! Jay said. John shoved Jay off ,
stood up and started saying that we needed to drive back to the woods , I thought
to myself, “I knew this would happen!” Why! I asked. I was frustrated with john,
we all were. “Why do you want to go back?” John looked down at the floor like a
child when they’ve done something bad. His voice quivered a bit. “well?” I asked.
He said to us as we past he got a feeling he hadn’t felt for years. It was a felling of
doubt and bad luck. I started to get goosebumps , thinking that we might end up
going back to the woods because John was serious about this. “Can we go back ,
please?” “Alright fine.” I said.

So we turned back. I could feel myself getting butterflies and I started to imagine
things that would happen when were there. As we approached to park beside
the woods the car suddenly stopped causing us to all to push forward. “What
happened? !” I shouted. There was no reply . I slowly looked around to the
passenger seat. Jay’s head was still from the back . I did not want to look at his
face. So I sat back in my seat, shaking with fear, I felt something in the boot touch
my lower back. I looked into the boot and there was nothing. A small grunt came
from the driving seat. John said ina painful voice , “I saw something standing in
front of the car , it jus caused me to stop, im sorry is everyone ok?” he looked over
at jay and froze.

He let out a huge scream. He jumped out of the car and I followed. I ran to the
window of the passenger seat and there was Jay split in half. Connor let out a huge
scream in the back. I could barley see into the car. I walked closer and Connor was
getting thrown around the car, like he was being possessed, John pulled me and
we both ran into the woods. I was running with John through the woods and I
started to feel weak and out of no where I blacked out , several hours later I woke
up, it was still dark and I was lying on a bunch of spread out dead leaves. I saw
something in the distance and I started to walk over to it slowly. There John was

hanging from a tree by a rope looking down at the floor. The wind blew him side to
side , I was so scared I couldn’t even scream. I stepped back slowly and felt a gasp
of air brusk across my back…

2002 7th march: No one ever went through Marys woods. Halloween had arrived…

Scratches by S.C.

Scratches     

It was a dark and stormy October night in Edinburgh City. There was an acrid taste of smoke in the air, results of all the fireworks being set of in anticipation of Bonfire Night. Rain was pouring down the sides of buildings, creating a grey sense of damp despair before mixing with fresh blood running into an alley and down a gutter.  Detective Sergeant Damian Clark was the first to arrive at the murder scene after the Scene of Crime Officers or SOCOS. According to the onsite doctor, the victim’s death had been caused by severe blood loss and lesions to the chest and stomach, but that was pretty obvious to DS Clark given the amount of blood spattered on the walls of the alley and the smell of the remainder of intestines that were hanging from the cuts raked across the victim’s stomach.

Despite the horrific injuries, the man was surprisingly easy to I.D. According to a bus pass and credit card the man’s name was John Newbury, a civil servant from The Borders. DS Clark wondered what had brought him so far from home and the more pressing matter of what had killed him. There were no signs of a struggle. The credit card and cash in the wallet ruled out a mugging gone wrong. Nothing indicated a serial killing and there was nothing to indicate any form of racial crime.

The remains of the body were being loaded into a police van to be taken to the state pathologist and any other evidence was being loaded into a police van to be taken to the local forensics lab. With the Scene of Crime Officers wrapping up, DS Clark decided to call it a night and head home. He would start on the case tomorrow when he had more time and resources.

DS Clark was expecting an easy night, but this case had decided it wanted to be solved. It was (according to the un-reliable digital alarm clock by his bed) two in the morning when Damian was woken by a sharp short bang. He assumed it was the fireworks again, but then remembered that nobody in his flat block was stupid enough to set off fireworks in the corridors. After getting up out of bed to make sure he wasn’t being robbed, Damian heard a distinct scratching noise. It took him a few minutes to realise that the scratching was coming from outside his front door. He slowly started walking towards the door. As he did, the scratching got faster and louder, as if something was trying to get in. Damian’s heart was racing as he neared the door, his arm outstretched ready to open the door. As soon as he made contact with the doors handle, the scratching stopped and another sharp short bang echoed through the outside corridor. This bang was closer than the last. With sweat trickling down his face Damian wrenched open the door. There was nothing. Damian thought he must have been going crazy, but he was sure he’d heard the bangs and the scratching. Looking at the door confirmed he wasn’t, as it was perforated with at least a hundred deep scratches bored into his oak door, as if something had tried to claw its way in.

Once his heart had stopped going a mile minute, Damian slipped into his police detective mindset and began to notice subtle things about this altogether creepy situation. There was an acrid metallic taste in the air, and the corridors floors were also scarred with light scratches, but they were intermittent, as if the “thing” that was at the door had been leaping down the corridor. But these gaps were much too far apart. “What sort of animal could have jumped like this?” Damian pondered out loud. While he was itching to find out more about this creature, it was late, and human nature told him that unless he went back to bed and got some sleep, work would be hell tomorrow. He returned to his flat, but before he got into bed he locked every window and door in his flat. Despite the fact that his heart was still pounding, he was soon fast asleep. So quickly did he fall asleep, that he didn’t hear the series of short sharp bangs, echoing down his road.      

  

                    

                      

Horror Story by J Mc

James Macken

 There once was a house a very old and spooky house. In a small town and no one can remember the face of the old lady who used to live their and no one had entered the house in years. Everybody believed the house was haunted and that the old lady was now haunting it herself.

It was Halloween and it was Tim’s favourite time of year, he loved Halloween because he would always pull pranks on his friends, and they would have the craic. Tim and his mates decided this year they would go in to the haunted house and see if it was really haunted or just a scary tale.

Halloween finally came around, they first went out and did a bit of tricker treating and got some sweets. Then when it was twelve o’clock they headed down the road the haunted house. When they got there they were all nervous and scared to go in. They rang on the doorbell  just to see if there was any one home even thought they thought no one lived there. To their surprise an old lady answered the door , they all got a fright and stepped back , then the old lady said “Hello there it’s been so long since any one has called to my door I keep making special punch on Halloween but no one has been there ever to drink in the last 15 years” she said with delight in her eyes. They all laughed and walked in to the house she offered them the punch, they were cautious to drink it but then they decided to, they drank it and it was the most delicious punch ever. She gave them biscuits and tea. They promised to come back every year because she said she gets really lonely. 

                             The End…

Halloween Ghost Story by E.O'G

Halloween Ghost Story

The wail of a vampire was heard. Everyone in the town shuddered behind their boarded up front doors and windows. Mothers clenched their children tight and fathers paced the floor listening to the noises outside. Just a typical Halloween evening.

Every Halloween in Riverview was the same. As night fell over the town the dead would rise from the graveyard and walk among the living looking for human flesh. The locals knew the drill. They would board up all the doors and windows, hang up cloves of garlic in every room and line the outskirts of every room with salt. It seemed to work. And every year they heard the same story of some poor soul who hadn’t been thorough enough with their precautions and had ended up a victim.

It was my 8^th Halloween. I was terrified. All the children in school had been telling stories of how the zombies liked to eat you alive whereas the vampire tended to prefer you dead before they sucked your blood. “They prefer blondes!” one boy had cried. I’m blonde, “would they go for me first?”  I thought to myself. I was average looking with straight blonde hair and dark blue eyes, I was small for my age so maybe I could hide... My mother assured me that Halloween would be fine, we would take all the nessecary precautions and I t would be ok. But I still wasn’t convinced; I  had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Around 11pm the noises began as the dead rose. My mom tried to distract me and my brother Johnjoe with cards games. It wasn’t working. The howls and screams got louder as the creatures neared my house I was shaking with fear. The screeches of the creature’s nails against our doors made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight. I was shaking, Johnjoe was sobbing quietly to himself trying to be brave, he was only 6. My mother could be heard muttering prayers. Then a crash coming from the upstairs landing made us all jump. Surely they couldn’t have broken in that window? My family and I froze. “Quick hide!” my mother hissed urgently. Johnjoe and I charged for the kitchen and hid under the table. He was hysterical as my mother tried to console him begging him to be quiet. My father grabbed a golf club and held it in front of him like a sword blocking the door into the kitchen. My mother hid behind the door. We made eye contact and she put her finger to her lips motioning for me to stay quiet. I felt Johnjoe shivering beside me under the table. The house was still, the silence was eerie. Maybe we were wrong, maybe the creatures hadn’t found a weak spot in our house defence? Then suddenly as quick as a flash there was a swooshing noises and my dad fell the ground yelling. Two black shapes swarmed over him and as he struggled and kicked held him down. Then he went limp. And all we could hear was the wet sound of tearing flesh as the zombies devoured my father. I peeked over at my mother, her eyes were closed and she was silently mouthing prayers as the tears streamed down her face. Time seemed to slow down.

When the growls and grunts of the zombies had faded the silence was painful. I don’t know how long we lay there for desperately wishing the zombies would leave us but at then same time not wanting to be forced to have to face whatever remained of my father. It was quieter than before and a small part of me thought thye might be gone. Then Johnjoe hiccupped.

A withered grey hand clasped around his ankle and dragged him viciously out from under the table. Johnjoe let out a piercing scream and wailed as the zombie sunk his rotting teeth into his little thigh. Simultaneously my mother flung herself at the zombie, onto its back and tightened her hands around its neck. “AAAARGH  NO NOT MY SON.” she cried desperately and the zombie roared and bucked like a donkey. Johnjoe lay limp on the floor. I was frozen with fear still hidden under the table, I was powerless to stop what was happening in front of me. As the zombie and my mother continued to wrestle her cries of pain became louder and the zombie shrieks also. When two more creatures came charging to the room I knew it was over. I closed my eyes and tried to block out the noises of her petrified screams as she succumbed to the zombies vicious attack. Their squeals of pleasure told me they had come across Johnjoes limp body. I waited for my inevitable end.

As I lay there with my eyes tightly shut I could here my family being devoured. The sickly smell of blood hung in the air and a draft was coming in the back door blowing a cool breeze into the kitchen. The sounds of the zombie chewing was a wet, slurping sound and the sound of tearing flesh and cracking bones stung my ears. The zombies hissed at each other and groaned . And then silence. They were gone.

I could not believe it. I carefully crawling out from under the table, wary of any noise or movement. Then I saw it, the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. The orange glow of the sunrise peeked through the cracks in the windows. The creatures of Halloween were banished to their graves once more. I sank to my knees with relief and despair. Around me lay the bones and whatever the zombies had left of the mangled corpses of my family. Happy Halloween.

A Harry by D.A.

David Aspil

A Harry…

Last year on Halloween in Mystery Town something very strange and unexpected happened. A group of children decided to go for an adventure in the Deep Deep woods were there was big house .It was thought that the house was abandoned and it had been for eight years since the incident..

A well known friendly couple used to live there, until one day the suddenly vanished. Their car and all of their belongings were left behind and there was no trace of anyone leaving. Since then no one dares enter the Deep Deep woods.

As the children approached the big house there was complete silence apart from the crack of a branch breaking a howling wolf. The frightened children gently knocked on the front door twice anxiously awaiting for an answer. Nobody was home...

They gently poked the front door with a stick.

Suddenly for no reason at all, the door blew up. The children were extremely frightened but refused to show fear in front of their friends.

There was a small stream of smoke coming from the broken door. The children were brave. They slowly and cautiously tip toed into the big house. There was no furniture in the house. There were really high ceilings with cob webs drooping from them. The children lightly approached the hall. The hall was long and dark. At the end of the hall there was a tiny door as if midgets had lived here, it was only about a metre high but still the children crawled through, scared to death.

The room it leads into was pitch black so the children couldn’t see anything. They turned on their mobile phone to use as lights.

There was a high pitched loud scream from the corner. The children shrieked and jumped when they saw it standing in the corner.

There was a tiny midget with spiky hair and foam was coming from his mouth. He screamed ‘‘my name is Harry’’ and then he suddenly pounced on the biggest child. He grabbed him by the shoulders and bit into his neck. The child just stood there with a wild look in his eye and he too had foam coming from his mouth now. The three other children sprinted out of the big house afraid for their lives.  They jumped behind a large tree. Then Harry ran out onto the porch mumbling and grunting to himself as he scanned the landscape looking for the other children. He ran down the road back towards the town passing by the children without realising.

The children slowly followed him, keeping a long distance between them.

They slyly creeped their way back to the town without being cited by Harry.  They immediately ran back to the town square only to find that Harry had been caught by a group of escaping prison inmates. The police had heard about this deranged creature and decided there would be no one better to handle the situation than some ‘hard’ inmates.  The inmates weren’t afraid of Harry. They grabbed by his spiky hair and tied him to a lamp post. As a crowd gathered they burnt him alive.  

A Fistful of Feathers by B. McC.

A Fistful of Feathers

The golden glow of an ancient city illuminated the darkened night, and the battle between the contrasting light and inky darkness was a spectacular one to behold. As the succeeding glow chased away the wakening patches of the shadows, a harrowing halo of light guarded the curtain walls and turrets of the bustling, crawling kingdom.

Shadows hung heavily in the shady alleys and corners of the city, kept alive only by the flock of it's remote people, carrying their deeper inclinations solely in their eyes. They walked as one through the lonely streets of their home, through the shining jet that was night. Bats fluttered overhead, searching for darkness, while birds slept restlessly in the grooves and hallows of the towering walls.

One small bird, a tired starling, had found a particularly cosy spot in which to hide; a hollow dent in the stonework of a grand mansion. It rested its wings, and soon fell into a light sleep, kept partially awake by the hum of the city below. A warm, quiet glow radiated from the curtained windows of the mansion, which stood on a quieter side street, away from the bustling human traffic. It's arched bedroom windows hung over the street, as if surveying the road. Inside its walls it insulated a quiet atmosphere. It was cosily hidden from the ear-straining noise of the city centre.

Tapestries hung on the warm walls, and fur carpets enclosed the floor. Grand armchairs with clawed feet observed the room, while overhead, a sapphire chandelier hung from the ceiling. Sitting in the chairs were people cradling glasses of red wine, wearing magnificent, opulent clothing, of silk, fur and fine wool. They sat and talked, true excitement reflected on their faces. Behind them a huge, spiralling staircase stretched ans towered over them.

Sitting in one chair was a young man, wearing a fine green shirt and silk breeches; he had a handsome face and short, blond hair. He sat across from the contrasting guest, a giant, petulant man, with crushed eyes and a round neck. He held his wine glass up to his snout.

'I can't think what would be taking her so long,' the young man said, as he drank. 'I suppose it must be the cumbersome crowds outside.'

'Well, if she takes any longer, I don't think we'll be able to contain ourselves. A quick glance wouldn't hurt anybody...I say, these pork pies are delicious, aren't they just?' The squat man took a handful of the fattening pies from the bowl in front of him. 'I think Beady has already started,' he continued, pointing with a thick finger at the scrawny man in fine yet loose clothing, who scuttled around the surrounding bookcases noiselessly. He looked up with suspicious round eyes upon hearing his name.

'I'm just looking at these books, that's all,' he said, resentment in his tone. On a nearby settee a hairy man lay upside down, his heading touching the floor.

'You need to relax, you lot,' he said, with calm eyes. 'This house is huge, and no amount of early searching will help.'

Beside the lazy man sat a wrathful one, his face tinted red. His clenched fists bunched together on his lap. He said nothing, but looked at the upside-down man with tired, agitated eyes.

A sudden explosion of noise swept from the front door into the room, as a hunched figure walked in off the street. The castle's maids rushed to close the heavy steel-lined door.

Removing a simple woollen coat was a young, pale woman, with grey-blue eyes, spaced freckles, and black straw hair. She stood apprehensively, unsure of herself. But her uncertainty was met with the housemaids politely taking her coat and offering her a seat. Her clothes were plain and simple, and dull compared to the dazzling display of vibrant colours the other outfits provided. Her quiet eyes met with those of the other guests, and she tried a smile; they then scanned the room, and saw the powder-white feathered figure that was the Master's pet dove. It sat in it's cage, fascinated by the new visitor, upon whose face a true grin formed.

The light silence was chased away by the arrival of the Master of the house. As he walked down the spiralling staircase his silk robe gracefully brushed the steps. A golden brooch closed the robe and rested on his neck. His breeches were the colour of red wine, his buckled shoes like coal, and he wore gloves as snow-white as the dove that looked up at him from its perch. He smiled warmly as he reached his guests. He held out his hands as he spoke.

'My humble friends, the honour is mine to have you here on this night. My name is Master Noiviblo, and it is a pleasure to meet you all.'

He walked around the room, shaking hands with the now standing guests. Still fascinated by the caged dove, the late visitor abruptly stood up in realisation. She shook the Master's gloved hand. When the introductions were over all sat down, Master Noiviblo sitting across from them.

'Many of you probably know the basis of tonight already, but I will explain, just in case', he began. 'A fortnight ago, I was given 10,000 pounds worth of gold from the King as a pleasant thank you for helping the homeless on the waterfront.' He looked around his beautiful room proudly. 'But as you can clearly see, I have no need for such a sum. And so, I have organised this special night. Somewhere, hidden in this castle, in the wondrous gold I received. Whoever finds it first will become it's rightful owner. And until then, the castle doors will be locked, by my personal guard who will wait outside.' Noiviblo poured himself a glass of wine. 'Are there any questions?'

He was met with five impatient faces and one slightly enthralled one. They all shook their heads. As he drank, he stood up.

'Well, that is wonderful, then. I will be waiting in a restaurant nearby, on Basore Street. But before I leave, please, get the chance to know each other...'

An excited buzz once again began as the guests talked. The handsome man in the green silken shirt approached the lone quiet woman.

He smiled politely as he took her hand, and kissed it.

'My name is Camor Mac Mahon, and it's a pleasure to meet you, Miss...?

The woman went a bright red as he held her hand.

'Invidia Schauen', she answered. 'It is lovely to meet you.'

'A very beautiful name, that is,' he said.

Behind him the plump man stood. He held out a meaty hand to Invidia. He smiled, with a jaw full of rotten, brown teeth, spaced away from each other by long stretches of blackened gum. His breath stank of pork and warm wine.

'My name is Matt Mc Cerdo. Great to meet you,' he said wetly, his greasy hand shaking hers. 'Excited, are you?'

'Yes, I have been looking forward to this night,' she said, holding her breath. 'I wish you much luck.'

'And to you too, my dear,' he replied, and made his way to the company pf the pork pies on the ornate wooden table.

The next guest was the scrawny gent with the loose clothing. His pointed chin and sharp nose were illuminated by the light of the fireplace. He shook Invidia's hand with a skinny talon.

'Mine is Beady Bourman.' His eyes lived up to his name. 'Nice to meet you.'

'And you,' she said, smiling.

The next man had relaxed eyes and a fatigued smile. He yawned and stretched, with a stature that suggested he was more interested in lounging than finding riches. He shook the woman's hand in a lazy, laid back manner, barely clasping her hand.

'I am Basie Goethe...a pleasure to meet you, love.' Thick brown hair coated his arms and knuckles. 'I hope I don't fall asleep during this bloody hunt. Those seats are far too comfortable...'

Invidia laughed. 'I understand; it's like sitting on a cloud. But one could buy many of these chairs if they found the treasure...'

The hairy sloth shrugged. 'Good point!' he agreed.

The last of the other guests was next. He shook the woman's hand with a strong grip. His eyebrows pointed down, towards his frozen frown, and deep grooves were molded in to his forehead.

'My title is Toorne Mc Grath,' he grunted.

'Nice to meet you,' Invidia answered, surprised by his short greeting. She decided to make small talk. 'What a magnificent house this is...'

'Aye,' he answered. 'Not used to such a clean environment, are you, East Sider?'

He left the shocked woman behind to stand by the fire. But she soon calmed herself. Such a prejudice man deserves no thought, she said in her head. But she couldn't help but glare at the bull by the fireplace.

Upon realising that the introductions were finished, Master Noiviblo clapped his hands together and stood in the middle of the room. He smiled graciously at his guests.

'Once again, I am honoured to have you all here tonight.' From his pocket he produced a silver key. 'And now, I will leave you to what you have been waiting for. I shall lock the door, and leave you to your search!'

His face was glowing with excitement as he made his way to the front door with the housemaids. His guests sat, facing him, reflecting both excitement and impatience. They waited, the only sound the munching of pies in Mc Cerdo's jaw.

As the Master opened the door, shouts, laughter and banter invaded the room. He stood, waving the key in the air.

'I wish you all good luck. Enjoy yourselves!'

The steel lined doors slammed shut, rattling the furniture and window panes, and the scraping of the key in the lock echoed through the silent mansion. The deathly quiet hung as heavy as lead around the guests' feet, and all, including the nervous dove, sat apprehensively. They waited, for what, they were unsure of.

A seemingly endless calmed silence was broken by an echoing male voice.

'Well, I guess we'd better get a move on, then?'

Life exploded around the guests as they sprung into action.




Calm blue light fell from the sapphires that rested in the chandeliers. It delicately filled the corridors of the castle, brightening every corner, crevice and hollow. Furry rugs wit eye-straining patters lay on the floor, and dust flew from keyhole to keyhole, desperately searching for their resting place. Not a single daunting shadow stood near.

The great wooden door at the end of the long corridor creaked slowly open, and a small man scampered in. He looked under every table, in every drawer, and at every stone-lined shelf present in the room. He scratched his thin nose as he searched, and soon disappeared through another heavy wooden door. The room's dust once again settled.

Thirty minutes had passed since the search had started, and the guests had dispersed into the mansion. Those with no plans of action tended to stick together, and so for the time being, Mc Cerdo and Goethe had decided the pair up. However, pigs and sloths were never hard working, and so their progress moved at a steady crawl.

They were still ion the living room...

'Matt, for god's sake, leave those damn pies alone,' Basie Goethe snapped at him, as he prodded the books in the book shelf. 'At least try to make an effort.'

'Beady already went through those shelves, you fool! We're wasting our time here.'

'Well, do you have a better idea?'

'Of course! Let's search the larder...'

Camor, Beady, Invidia and Toorne's paths had crossed for a brief time as they hunted. They stood in a grand study, searching and conversing, stunned by the room's beauty. The young Camor Mac Mahon discussed motives with the red-faced Toorne Mc Grath.

'You must be the youngest here. What is your reason?' Toorne asked, with a voice as thick as vodka. His pointed eyebrows had not moved once that night.

'I want to settle down with a girl,' Camor answered proudly, as he examined a beautiful ornate desk. 'I'll put it towards a house, furniture, gifts...'

'What is her name?'

'Jane Codicia. I love the sound of her name, so madly; it fills me with such-'

'Lust,' Toorne snorted. 'Yes, I know the village tart all too well. We all do.' He took in the empty pleasure of seeing the young boy's face, a storm of violent shock and fury. They boy grabbed him by the shoulder.

'You take that back, you fool! A man as unloved as you knows nothing about the matter!

'It is lust you are working towards, not love. I am not the fool. It's naive men like you that fall for the drink in the end...'

The heavy figure of the man then strode off in to the quiet calm of an empty room, leaving it's trail of destruction. The boy left behind stood in disbelief.

Invidia, overhearing the wrathful conversation, stepped over to help him. She too had been a victim of his rude, quick temper.

'Men like that deserve no respect or thought. All they deserve is pity...'

'Not even that,' he bluntly replied. Well, I'd better get a move on...that gold won't find itself.' As he left through the door opposite to the one Toorne had used, Invidia and Beady began to talk. Stunned by the sudden display of anger they decided to change the subject.

'So, what would you put the money towards, should you find it?' Invidia asked, as she looked under a teal rug that hugged the floor. Bourman searched through the cabinets in the corner.

'Well, I've been needing money to fund a project that has been going on for years now. I was never able to finish it, but hopefully by the end of this day it will no longer be a problem.'

'What is this project, then? Is it for a charity?'

'Oh no, something much more charitable than that,' he replied. 'It's for an unfinished servant house on my estate. It has been an eye-sore for so long, and is quite an embarrassment...but hopefully tonight shall be a solution, and it will be finally built. I don't want to spend too much money on it when options like these are available...'

Invidia flinched as she tried to keep a straight face. But she allowed herself the pleasure of glaring at the greedy man, as he searched shallow baskets, rubbing his sharp chin. He became aware that the young woman had not answered. She must be vain, not to care about the problems pf others, he thought. But nonetheless he continued to talk.

'What would you spend it on, then? You made no inkling as to what it would go towards...'

'A dear cousin of mine is sick, and alone. I need to visit her...and unlike some, I don't have a single coin that can go towards such a trip.'

She stood up and made her way out of the room, refusing to look at the rat behind her. As she creaked open the door, his scrawny voice called behind her.

'Schauen, wait! ...Why did you really come today?'

She sighed as she turned around.

'Not used to such a display of generosity, are you, West Sider?'

The door slammed shut.




In the damp larder, only a faint blue light braved the darkness. With great difficulty, it illuminated two character, one fat and squat, one hunched over and fatigued. Munching could be heard...

'Sooooo, what would you spend these riches on, if you were to find them?' Basie asked, his eyes half closed. He gave a long stretch.

'Well, everyone deserves a little treat every now and then,' Matt answered, crumbles cascading down his clothes. His skin was the colour of raw meat. 'Or perhaps a grand feast...you can never have too many of those!'

Basie laughed. 'To each his own, so. If I were to find it, I wouldn't work another day. I wouldn't need to. And I'd have a lovely, relaxing break...'

It was Matt's turn to laugh. While gluttony could pass for his middle name, he did woke well when he wanted to. And he often wanted to work when there was money at the end of it. The only thing that could distract him was the fattening sin food provided...

'I wonder what Toorne's putting it towards?' Basie thought out loud.

'He told me he was gong to save it up,' Matt replied. 'How boring...'

'Really? The only time I've heard him talk he was givin' out useless insults. I suppose he does speak some sense then...'

The two fell silent, and the crunching continued. Eventually, Basie moved himself.

'I think I will have a search on my own; I'm not very hungry. But perhaps I shall see you soon...?

Matt nodded, his mouth full. He raised a hand full of pies in goodbye.

The sloth then left, leaving the pig behind.



In the next two hours that followed, the searches grew more serious and determined. Previous pairs split up completely, and disappeared into the mansion. Few words were spoken in that time, as suspense grew among the guests. No time was available for an idle rest.

Although one person found the time to talk. She searched under the tables that lined one wall of the stone room and, looking up, caught the stare of the white dove that sat on it's perch. She got up to stand levelly with it.

'Such a beautiful creature you are. So small, pure and innocent. How could someone lock you up?'

Invidia knew that talking to birds was probably the first sign of madness, but in this case she decided it was acceptable. One would have to be truly full of fake pride to lock such an animal up.

'You must be jealous of the other birds then, that are free to fly. You haven't sung once! You're like me, in a way. I envy those other guests' wealth. They put it to such waste, while people are suffering without it, like my dear cousin... and it has ruined them, has turned them prejudice. My god, I am mad - I'm confiding in a bird!...'

Invidia flinched as her body suddenly became weak. She rested against the large cage beside her. It's inhabitant suddenly changed, and began squawking; a shrill, dark, furious noise, one no-one would expect a dove to make. Distressed lines creased Invidia's forehead as she scowled at the thoughts of those so close by. Her strained knuckles turned an ashen white.

'Yes, they are scum. A waste of good money and space...a waste! Yet they refuse to acknowledge their uselessness. Well, when they realise, it will unfortunately be too late...'

The dove extended its wings in fury. It squawked endlessly, wishing to fly. In it's envy it bit the wires of the cage, the once silent jealousy now taking over violently.

But a calm suddenly washed over Invidia. She stood in shock at her words as she came to. She pushed the dark thoughts out of her head and stood up straight. She looked down at the dove, who too was now calm, resting its wings and sitting on its perch. It looked up in what appeared to be relief.

'I am weak. I can't let that aggression take over, or I will become like them...' What she did next pleasantly surprised her. She opened the great cage door, and held out a hand. At once, the dove obediently and happily jumped onto it. The door was then closed shut.

'I need a bit of company on this search. Someone to keep me on track...'

Invidia left the room, wearing a peaceful smile.




Dust and darkness enclosed Camor as he entered the tiny side room. Thick, decorative pots and ornate books filled the shelves carved into the brickwork. A small slit in the wall served as a window, but the pitch-black night outside gave no light. The space was crowded and cold, closing in on its inhabitants.

Camor made his way into the tiny room, leaving it's door open for a source of familiar but inefficient light. He rifled through a nearby desk, just able to make out its contents. He saw the outlines of a paperweight, sheets of parchment, and sharpened quills, but no glitter of gold. He closed the drawers in disappointment. He was just about to leave when he heard a brittle smash behind him.

Darting around in sudden surprise, Camor could just make out the inky shape of a broken pot, smashed into many small fragments. It stood on the floor below the stone shelf.

He grabbed the pieces in alarm, praying it was not a valuable pot. He places the pieces on the wooden desk and tried desperately to assemble them in some sort of order. But his hands were clumsy and shaking as he tried to work, and he was so engrossed in it he didn't realise that several segments were missing.

The black shadows stirred silently behind him, and curtains fluttered in the still air. The feel of dry clay grinding under his fingers made Camor shiver. It was only when the heavy hand clasped over his mouth did he become violently aware.

The hand tugged at him with such formidable force that he was dragged off his chair. His legs flailed weakly in desperation. Shock overcame strength as he fought weakly like a trapped animal. Camor looked up, expecting to see the outline of Toorne's red face, streaked with anger. But all he saw was darkness, the shadows having taken over the once calm room. Its heavy door had been closed behind him.

Warm air stroked his face as the figure grew near. In a deathly quiet whisper, it was impossible to distinguish its voice. It spoke...

'I apologise for being late,' it began, as it tightened its grip on the boy. 'I am the seventh guest...'

He looked up in confusion and sickening fear. A sudden violent strength sprung up from this fear, and for a moment he fought back well with it. But the new found energy was quickly drained...

A black hand was raised, half hidden by the thick darkness, and was thrust down. Red blood mixed with the surrounding black space as it escaped from the punctured hole. A long shard of clay stood on Camor's heart...

He collapsed to the ground as pain, as sharp as the deadly shard, flowed through him. His eyes strained as he nursed his scar, blood escaping through his fingers. The dark figure knelt down beside him. He could feel the stranger's cold hands wrapped around his face. He struggled to escape.

'Hands as cold as the love you felt for her,' it said, before grabbing the bloody fragment and once again stabbing him in the heart. Seven heavy stabs; all Camor could do was howl weakly and quietly like an injured animal as the life escaped his body. He was too weak to chase after it, and so his raised arm fell in exhaustion. The young man, in a darkness as black as death itself, died.

The darkened figure stood, dropping the murder weapon into the fresh pool of blood. With not a hint of remorse, it turned to the wooden door beyond, leaving the butchered boy behind.



Gold, the colour of dusk and as bright as day, lay in the small wooden case that sat on the stone basement floor. It's golden glow rested on Invidia's relieved face. She picked up the clumps of gold, examining them with fascinated eyes. She had never seen anything like it. Sitting on her shoulder was the dove, with feathers as soft as cushions, who too had a look of some amazement on it's tiny face.

But her peaceful victory was soon disturbed by the distressed shouts upstairs. She could hear the wiry voice of Beady Bourman above.

'Murder! There's been A MURDER!'

The words rand in her ears as she dropped the gold. The bird beside her squawked in alarm, as the woman's hands began to shake. She stood up slowly.

'I sensed this would happen,' she said quietly. She held out a hand, and the dove stepped into it. Suddenly, an idea hit her. She looked at the case of gold, and the hollow in the wall behind the removed brick where it had been hidden. She then looked down at the small bird.

'This is where you come in,' she said, and hastily got to work. Above, she could hear rushed footsteps.

After five minutes, she was up and running towards the living room, where the shouts of murder had escaped from.




'It's disgusting. Horrific! The murder of an innocent young man, right under our noses.'

Toorne stood at the front of the room, his hands behind his back. His face was a mask of fury while fear and shock had taken over the other guests.

'One of us is the murderer. It could be anyone. Show me your hands; I want to see if there is a trace of blood.'

Several faces glared at the dominate man as he moved around the room. Only one spoke up.

'This is ridiculous,' Matt said. 'No-one here is a murderer. None of us are capable of such a crime.'

The guests looked at each other, silently agreeing.

'It may have been someone outside...someone who wasn't invited!' Beady exclaimed. 'Perhaps they grew jealous and desperate. Do you really think one of us would brutally murder someone in such a way? We are not savages.'

Anger and confusion had since consumed Toorne's face. He acknowledged these ideas; they did seem possible. They made more sense...and were more pleasant to believe. He suddenly reached a conclusion.

'No-one is leaving this house.' He ignored the shocked faces before him. 'We have to find this murderer - discover how he is entering the house, and how long he has spent here. We must put this sick murderer down. And avenge the innocent man taken from us.'

'Are you mad?! Basie shouted in response.

'This is far too dangerous. None of us are prepared!' Invidia exclaimed.

'I want out,' Matt ordered. 'I want out of here. One of you could be a murderer, for all we know. And if not, this man is obviously a skilled killer. I don't want to take any chances.' He made his way to the coat rack beside the door. 'The guard will let us out, and take care of it. Why should we have to?'

'By all means, leave, if you wish,' Toorne informed calmly. 'But do so and no one will get the gold. It's five against one, and we have a strong chance. We can easily put down this murderer.'

Doubt slowly began to leave the guests as they considered their options. Gold, or no gold? Basie stood up.

'I'm in. He's right; we do have a good chance,' he said, as he looked worriedly at the others.

'I, too, will help,' Invidia said as she stood up.

'Well, I desperately need this money, so I'll join in too,' Beady sighed.

'And I might as well,' Matt groaned, as he joined the others.

'I'm glad you agree,' Toorne said, relieved. 'We need a plan. If we occupy different parts of the castle...'

Fear almost completely drained away as determination and a new motive set in. For as long as it would take, they would be searching for revenge, not gold, And each guest had a part to play...




Matt stood cautiously by the front door, his pink palms sweating. Although he had a good view and could survey the whole room, he was wary about being left alone. He looked up at Toorne.

'Alright, all you need to do is keep an eye on this room. Beady is just next door, and if you see anything, shout. We'll come running.' Matt silently nodded, his thoughts filled with doubt.

'There's nothing to worry about. It's just the excitement of it all.' With that he turned and left, making his way to the spiral staircase at the end of the room. As he disappeared, the room grew ear-strainingly quiet. The fire still burned in it's pit; it's crackling was the only sound present. Lights flickered on the walls and ceiling.

Matt turned and rested his head on the steel-lined front door. Freedom lay beyond it, and safety too. He looked forward to the end of this hellish night.

'My god, what have I got myself into...' he sighed as he looked down at the door handle. Such an easy escape...but a cowardly one too. This will be a short night, he assured himself. But a small parasite of worry clung onto him and refused to leave...

The lights on the ceiling suddenly flickered more violently, and gathered to outline a darkened figure. But Matt was staring at the stone floor, consumed by his thoughts. His fat hands busily fidgeted, they themselves worried.

And so, when the hand covered his mouth and nose, he was unprepared. Shock shook his body as he tried to turn his fat neck and head around. He was pushed violently into the heavy door. His gate to freedom...

A quiet voice entered his ears and threatened with his senses. It spoke...

'And now, for the ironic part...'

Something cold and soft was tied around Matt's neck, and fastened tightly; too tightly for comfort. As a heavy kick was heaved into the back of his knee, he fell forward onto the cold ground, scraping and bruising his face off the door as he did so. His flailing hands grabbed at his neck, and he realised what it was that was strangling him. A string of sausages...

The string was tightened further, and Matt's face turned from it's normal fleshy pink to a deep purple. His arms were kicked until they were black and blue, and above him, he could hear a quiet snickering from his murderer.

'This is how gluttonous men like you go off in the end. They choke...'

The pink string once again tightened, and Matt could feel his strength abandoning him. He heaved one last struggle, before the lights blinding his vision took over. His fat, lifeless body rested against the door, separated from the world outside. The string of sausages hung around his neck.

The dark figure smiled, relieved. But it's work was not yet finished. Rushing to an ornate desk on the other side of the room, it searched desperately through it, until it came across what it so dearly needed. The shadow held a small letter opener, a beautiful, hand-crafted dagger with fine filigree work carved into its handle. A true work of art, which one would pay dearly for...

The figure snuck towards the door at the end of the room, that lead into the quiet corridor beyond. Sure enough, there stood Beady Bourman at the end of the narrow, carpeted room. His thin nose could just be seen.

He was, to say the least, slightly bored by this new job. His fingers itched to search for the gold. But he knew he couldn't leave; Matt was depending on him. The poor man had seemed terrified...

He picked up and examined a fine candle holder, its base covered in beautiful La Tène carvings. He wished to put it in his pocket; Noiviblo wouldn't even notice it was gone. But he violently dropped it instead, feeling a hand covering his mouth.

He tried desperately to escape it's grasp, but he was pushed against the wooden table's edge. Pain exploded in his leg as it was bluntly cut open by the corner. He heard a whisper beside his ear...

'Only the finest dagger for you, my friend...'

A hot streak of pain rushed through his neck as a sharpened blade ran slowly over it. It ran deep, and a red waterfall of blood poured out of Beady's neck. His desperation grew violent, and he fought back with the wild power of death-defying fear. As he broke free of the anonymous murderer's grip, the draining loss of blood overpowered him. He fell to the floor, in a pool of thick, consuming blood, gurgling on the sickening blood in his throat. His eyelids grew heavy as he drowned, and a peaceful, yet painful wave of slow death spread over him.

The towering figure cleaned the knife on the wine-red rug below, and gave the bloody corpse one last long look. It then turned on it's heels and made it's way down the long corridor.

Only three more left...




Basie Goethe stood in the centre of the beautiful bedroom. It's warm wooden floors were covered in soft rugs, silk curtains hung from the walls and bedposts, and clawed chairs sat in the corners. The most magnificent centrepiece was the king sized bed, with velvet sheets and woolly bed covers. The duvets were purple and white, as crisp as snow, and the walls beyond gave a cosy atmosphere.

Basie sat on the bed. He couldn't help himself; boredom and tiredness had convinced him to. He felt the velvet sheets and pillows. Should he find the gold in the end, this too would be another thing he would spend it on; a bed as soft as a cloud.

Not a single shout or noise had presented itself in the castle, and Toorne himself had probably scared off that murderer. Basie lay on the bed, resting his head on it's soft pillow. There was no reason to worry; it was safe here. No murderer would be stupid enough to strike the same house twice. He put up his feet and relaxed. He knew he deserved a rest...

His thoughts turned to those of the gold, and what he could do with it. The dreams distracted him from reality and he soon grew drowsy; he rested on his side and before long was in a deep peaceful sleep. In his slumber he could not notice the lantern on the bedside table being extinguished. A deathly shadow surrounded him.

'This is far too easy,' a voice said,and in one quick motion, the lazy man's throat was slit. Blood poured over the white sheets as the figure left the room.




Toorne Mc Grath strode up and down the room, his brow furrowed in concentration. It was a grand relaxation room he stood in, with velveteen armchairs surrounding a fireplace, and a fine pool table with curved legs sitting in one corner. The padded walls were mahogany browns and wine reds, and added to the warmth of the room.

This room was in the centre of it's storey, and several corridors led into it. This agitated Toorne, as it meant he had to keep and eye on several entrances. He just hoped that damn East Sider was doing her job, and not running off to look for the gold. He knew what they were like...

Toorne turned around. He had heard a clink of metal...or at least, he was certain he had. But as he strained his eyes, he realised that the fire iron was missing from it's holder by the fire pit. He was hardly able to turn around in realisation as the sharpened iron was thrust through his chest, it's bloody point peering up at him.

He roared in agony as he stumbled forward, screaming so loudly he knew the others would hear him. But strength was escaping him quickly, and it dawned on him that his attacker was advancing. He tried once again to turn around, but was too slow.

Another roar echoed through the mansion as the iron was ripped from his torso. Before he could move the long iron bar struck him at full force in the spine, sending dull pain through his body. But the force was so strong that it sent him tumbling forwards, legs flailing, arms waving - straight into the fire.

'You were too hot-headed for your own good,' the unknown figure sighed, as it poked the new fuel with the iron bar. Agonised screams roared and echoed through the house as Toorne tried desperately to escape the fiery pit. But his murderer had placed a fire guard around it. He stared up in horror as he recognised the face above him, but pain, terror, and his weakened body left his speechless.

A thick, black smoke devoured the room as the guest left, closing the door upon leaving. And at a brief pace, it made it's way down the corridor, leaving the smoke and ashes behind.




Invidia sprinted down the corridor, her heart racing. She had just seen the bleeding body of Beady, and she knew who was next. She ran down the corridors and steps towards the basement, the only safe area she knew. She might have a chance...

The terrified woman stumbled over in her haste, and angrily steadied herself.

'Don't try and stop me!' She yelled, at nothing it would seem. She continued to run.

When Invidia reached the basement, she desperately made for the loose rock in the wall. She began heaving it away, but halfway through the movement she suddenly felt a twitch. She pulled herself into the centre of the floor and held her head.

'You can't!' She screamed, frozen to the floor. 'I won't let you!'

The hollow voice entered her skull, a mere shadow of her own. It spoke...

'Don't try to lose me, Invidia. I'm your better side, your better being. I'm more honest, and more determined to get what we both want. You need me. I'm the hard worker...'

'But you killed all those...those innocent people!'

'It wasn't easy, was it?' The voice continued. 'But I did it for the end, for us. I did it the right thing. They were all sinners...'

Invidia regained some strength and fought back. She heaved the stone from it's place in the wall, and let it fall to the floor. But she weakened again, and the voice grew louder.

'You're crazy,' it said. 'You can't prevent what is meant to happen.'

'I can!' She screamed. 'They always told me I was stronger!'

''Do you remember what happened to 'they?'' It asked mockingly. 'I know you didn't enjoy your time in that group home, but it was better than our life with that evil pair...'

Invidia could feel herself fade. She fell to the stone ground in near-defeat. But she remembered the dagger. The dagger was still in her pocket...

There was only one chance she could take...

She took the beautiful dagger from her pocket and, closing her eyes, thrust it into her stomach.

'You're too proud for your own good,' she said, as the dull pain exploded within her punctured torso. As she weakened, she felt herself being taken over. For several minutes she lay on her stomach in slow agony. But in this short time, the transition was complete.

The broken woman raised herself and crawled towards the hollow in the stone wall, furiously clutching her stomach. With all her strength, she took the wooden case out of it's hiding place, and set it on the floor in front of her. Her excitement shook her fingers as she opened it's lid. She slowly shut her eyes. And when she opened them, what she saw amazed her.

The case held no gold; each corner only contained a shadow. But sitting in the centre of the box was the cowering dove, with it's powder white wings, as soft as cushions. A long, fierce, internal struggle formed within Invidia. But after several minutes, she was decided.

She picked up the tiny bird.




'It was a terrible scene, Mr. Noiviblo. Only one guest survived; the rest, bless their souls, brutally murdered. We are in the process of removing the bodies now.' The guard removed his helmet in a gesture of respect.

Master Noiviblo could not describe his horror when he found out about the murders. But he could not control his guilt, either. It was now such a painful house to be in; but one thing gave him hope.

'There was a survivor?! Oh, thank god...! Who was it?'

'Well...they hardly survived, sir,' the guard said quietly. 'It was a young woman, with black hair and pale skin. When we found her, she was in a very bad state. Delusional and violent. Stabbed in the stomach, and...' The man swallowed as he remembered what he had seen. He tried to push the images out of his head. '...and her eyes cut out, sir. The strange thing is, we are certain it was all self-inflicted...'

The wave of horror stunned the old man, and he stumbled to a nearby bench just in time. He wiped his eyes and his forehead with a handkerchief as the truth hit him. The guilt strangled his hope as he hid his head in his hands.

Another guard made his way to the elder, his face aghast. He held out a small bundle in his hand, covered in white silk.

'Master Noiviblo, we found this in the basement, next to the woman. She had strangled the life out of it, and she had a fistful of feathers she refused to let go of. But I think we needed to show you this...'

Master Noiviblo cradled the tiny bundle in his shaking hands. He removed a strand of fabric, and looked poignantly at the small ashen figure below. His dead dove, with broken bones, and twisted wings. He stroked it's soft feathers.

But nonetheless, it had a proud look on it's tiny face, and it only appeared as in a peaceful sleep.

As if she would wake again...

Tim Finnegan by Polly Woklop

Halloween was Tim Finnegan's favourite time of year, he always

loved going trick or treating with his friends. He especially

loved it because he got lots of free sweets and chocolate. Most

kids didn’t like Tim because he was a bit of a bully and he stole

everyone’s sweet. Tim went from door to door and then he went

around again. After that he then went to all the other children

in the neighbourhood and made them give him their sweets.

Everybody in neighbourhood knew who Tim was and everybody

knew what he did, even the parents did not like him very much.

However this Halloween Bob had a plan to get back at Tim for all

the years of him stealing everyone’s sweets. Bob decided to get

revenge on Tim, and not the good kind of revenge. Bob waited

until it was very very very dark outside. Everybody was trick or

treating outside, they were all just hoping that Tim would not turn

up and take all their sweets from them. Bob was getting bored

of waiting for Tim to come and about to go home, when Tim came

around the corner with his friends.

Bob then put his plan into action. He jumped out from behind a

bush and he screamed ‘AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!’ Tim’s friends


got a massive fright when the saw Bob because he was dressed

up as the Joker from Batman and looked very creepy! All Tim’s

friends screamed and ran away from Bob. Tim was the only one

who didn’t run away. He could not recognise Bob because he was

dressed up and he had no idea who he was. ‘Who are you?’ Tim

asked. ‘I am going to get revenge! Mwahahahahaha!’ Bob replied.

Bob started to run at Tim while screaming as he ran. The next few

moments were a blur.

Tim died that night. Bob was arrested and brought to jail. Bob

didn’t care though, he was just happy he had gotten his revenge

on Tim and he had made an example of Tim to all the other bullies.

There was never any moe bullies in that neighbourhood ever again!

I always wonderend why…

By polly woklop