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The incident of a woman’s suicide flashed across the newspaper headlines. Many claimed it was her madness that took her life. Some others said it was loneliness, while some said it was finally her evil spirit leaving to unite with her demon god in hell. There were some who said that she took her life only to turn into a ghost and haunt the living. To this day, there is no one who has spoken to her, no one who has actually known her but there is no one in whose memory, the mysterious Melinda doesn’t reside.
The End
© 2013 Gunjan Vyas
Charlie Featherwick
by William O'Brien
In Temptus Vale it is often said those sensing the witches should be very careful with thoughts and wishes. It is true many do not understand the laws of nature and as some know ignorance is bliss. However, there are many that are aware of spells, magic and the like but do not respect the subtle energies that define many worlds. Temptus Vale is a small town in a shallow valley, where many strange things have happened over the years. On this particular night, it was now a few minutes to midnight and the grandmother clock born before the Great War was ticking. It had been an exciting evening for Rosie, Sean and Lily playing in the streets and getting treats. Hehe… but best of all were the tricks! Dressed as a ghost, Rosie squirted fake blood all over her white frilled skirt and blouse. Sean made himself up as a zombie using green face paint and lamp soot for blackened eyes, while helping Lily with her outfit. Lily loved the pointed hat and plastic fingernails.
It was common knowledge, or more so town gossip, about a young boy that had fallen down a staircase and died in Viewcrest House. The children at school said Mrs Cruelmonger did it, a mean old woman that had no desire for children to exist at all. Rosie decided to scare the old lady from number 83 by knocking on her windows as the other two were banging on her front door. Mrs Cruelmonger came out all in a tizzy, yelling and shouting about how they were such horrible children. Running around to the main door, Rosie caught up with the others as little Lily turned around and stood her ground. Donned in a black hat and long gown, she pointed her finger at the grumpy old woman and scowled.
“I am a witch and I wish you dead.”
Just before they ran away, Mrs Cruelmonger reached out with her scrawny hand and snatched a purple ribbon from the Lily’s hair. Laughter echoed through the porch as the wrinkled-faced crone grabbed her mop from the side of the doorway and started waving it at the trick or treat pranksters. Lily was the youngest of all and cackled the loudest as they all ran off down the street.
The evening was full of giggles and tricks with very few sweets or treats. It was much more fun to play jokes on people than eat candy. Anyway, there were loads of toffees back at home. The group all sat around the fire trying to keep warm as the clock continued ticking and they talked about the fun things they got up to that night. The parents had gone to a Halloween party for grown ups as they had been told by the babysitter. Rosie was the eldest of the three and 14 years of age and was never quite sure why they needed a ‘baby’ sitter. After all, she had an uncountable amount of piercings and could stay up as late as she wanted. The sitter had fallen asleep on the floor after drinking too much strawberry cider, evident by the empty cans beside the table. The fire crackled and the pendulum of the clock continued with its momentum.
Rosie sat by the fire reading scary stories to the younger ones when out of nowhere an almighty crash was heard. Jumping up, they all shrieked but the babysitter didn’t stir from her slumber. Sean knew the noise came from the kitchen because he had seen what had happened. A mop, leaning against a tall bin had slammed against the table—it didn’t just fall, it crashed down with a thunderous BANG!!! They all went into the kitchen and looked at the fallen mop upon the floor with the stolen purple ribbon tied to the handle—nobody wanted to touch it. Looking at each other scared and confused they moved back into the living room where the hot flames flickered. The book had fallen down and opened at a certain page: ‘The night has come, Those to be done, Never forgiven today’. Sitting back down, Rosie read the words aloud as a shiver ran over them all in the homely room. Trying to regain his composure, Sean looked over at Lily on the sofa and his eyes widened and his face went pale. Petrified, Rosie too had seen the ghostly image of Mrs Cruelmonger sat next to Lily, the old lady from the house across the road. A wind chime on the patio started to rattle erratically and cupboard doors began to shake violently as the apparition fully manifested. Smoke began to drift from around the old lady, over the carpet, snaking up the walls and along the ceiling.
“ I am a witch and I wished you dead” whispered Lily as her eyes turned black.
Sean and Rosie were almost frightened to their graves as Lily’s eyes and voice changed. A whirling wind spun as Mrs Cruelmonger opened the palms of her hands and lightning sparks poured in the air. The powerful elements pinned Sean to his chair as the purple ribbon fluttered in the atmosphere and bound his mouth tightly shut. Lily turned and smiled at the woman.
“Yes, you are a witch my child and you decided to kill me on this very night. You took me from this Earth, a life you have removed and revenge will be sought as it is meant to be.”
“You murdered Charlie Featherwick!”
Horrifying shrieks filled the room as Rosie fought to get up but the old woman’s magic would not allow this to happen. The ghost chanted a spell under her breath and Lily still smiled.
“A fate has been cast.”
“You cannot hurt me, you have no control over me.”
“So true my child. Let us see what your sister thinks.”
Tears began to flow down Rosie’s cheeks as she started to whimper. Slowly, slash marks began to appear on the white clothing that Rosie wore and real blood started to run from her arms and legs.
“Arrrghhhh… arrrrgghhhh… no…”
“Stop, please don’t… don’t hurt her! Take me and I will go with you,” she cried.
Suddenly, through the mist, the haunting figure of Charlie Featherwick appeared as real as he was in life.
“Haha, he has come back to get you Mrs Cruelmonger, even in death you are not safe.”
The spirit of Charlie Featherwick held a large, sharp butcher’s knife and in the bat of an eyelid he moved across the room with blinding speed. Grabbing her hair, he pulled back her head and sliced her throat clean from ear to ear. The blood spilled and tormented wailing filled the house. There was a deadly silence, which seemed to last forever as Rosie’s head fell and her limp body rolled off the chair onto the floor.
“I didn’t kill Charlie Featherwick, it was your evil sister,” said the old woman as the storm fell calm and the ghostly figures disappeared back to their own worlds.
From that day onward, the young girl was very careful and for the rest of her life was always watchful. Sean, never spoke a word again.
The End
© 2013 William O’Brien
About The Authors
Madhu Kalyan Mattaparthi
Gujan Vyas
Sheryl seal
Alan Hardy
William O'Brien
Sonya C. Dodd
Chris Raven
DC Rogers
Peter John
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