It's October. If you've noticed, every TV station is ramping up for Halloween. There are trailers for every scary movie ever made, and even the TV shows are featuring Halloween themes. So, in the spirit of Halloween, let's write our own scary story. I've always been partial to haunted house themes.
Remember, as always, keep the language as clean as possible (kids read this) and try to keep the blatant sexual innuendos to a minimum. Remember to pick up the story where the last person left off. This story will go through the weekend.
NOTE: Per Fred's suggestion, when our old stories retire, they reside here for your reading pleasure.
Dr. Zebblebrot had been no ordinary doctor. Although he had taught Human Anatomy & Physiology at the local university, he dabbled in other things outside of the classroom. He had been famous for his seances, and often invited his students to attend. His large mansion (an inherited family abode) served as a spooky setting for summoning up the dead. When a 19-year old girl went missing, the seances stopped. However, Dr. Zebblebrot continued to delve into the unknown.
As Dr. Zebblebrot aged, he grew ever more eccentric. He eventually retired from the University, but could be seen walking through his home with a candle in one hand, arguing animatedly with (from what could be seen) absolutely no one. Rumors started and grew. Dr. Zebblebrot ignored them all. In his final days, he could be seen pacing the roof of his mansion, back and forth, as if possessed.
When Dr. Zebblebrot's body was found, no one was surprised to discover that he had plunged to his death from a parapet. There was little left to be buried. He appeared to have been torn to pieces, but where the pieces went; no one knew. This gave rise to speculations (among the immature) about ghosts and demons, but such fantasies were not taken seriously by the cooler heads in the community.
Dr. Zebblebrot had left his mansion to his closest family member: his niece, Cimra. Why he had chosen her out of all his family members was anyone's guess. Perhaps her exotic name had captured his imagination. Perhaps he sensed a kindred spirit. Whatever the reason, he had been very clear about one thing. The mansion was not to be sold. If Cimra and her family chose not to live in the mansion, then the mansion would next go to the historical preservation society in town.
When Cimra was informed of this, her decision was immediate. Of course she would move into the family mansion. Dr. Zebblebrot's sister, Mabel, tried very hard to dissuade Cimra. "I just don't like the feel of it, dear," protested her mother. "Why not donate it to the historical society and have done with it? You can always visit it." However, Cimra remained intractible.
Two months after Dr. Zebblebrot's demise, Cimra and her husband pulled up in front of the mansion. Another car pulled up behind them, spilling out five more college friends who were eager to stay the weekend and help Cimra get the house in order.
"Sweet!" said Trevor, throwing a football to Cimra's husband, Jim. "This place is totally goth!"
Jim caught the football and lobbed it to John. John leaped for it, lost his footing, and skidded on the gravel. As he got up, dusting himself off, he said "I am starving. When was the last time we ate?" Then he paused for a moment and stooped down. "Hey wait a minute, I've found something!" he said.
Everyone crowded around Jim to see what he picked up. It was a ring with the initials CZ carved on it's face. "It was uncle Camron's," breathed Cimra. "I'd recognize it anywhere! I wonder how it got here?" Then another girl who had come up behind her pronounced "I'll bet he had it on him when he died. It must've fallen off when he hit the ground."
"Eww, gross, Brittany!" squealed another girl. "Do you have to remind us about that? That is so nasty!"
"Look," said Brittany, "I'm just stating the obvious. Duh. Get a grip, Courtney."
"OK, everyone. We're all hungry. Let's unload the groceries from the car and get inside and get started," said Cimra firmly.
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"Mwahahaha" Trevor intoned hollowly.
The one member of the group who had been silent so far finally spoke up. "C-c-cut it out, Trevor," he stammered, shoving his glasses up higher on his nose.
"Ooooh, Poindexter," Trevor grinned malevolently, "You'd better watch out. Ghosts always kill of the geeks first."
"Or l-l-loud mouth b-b-bullies," answered Poindexter with a catch in his voice.
Oh gawd. That's kill OFF, in the third paragraph. sorry, guys...
"Let's get the stuff in the kitchen," John said. "I need a sandwich."
They trooped in, carrying various bags of groceries. The back door was wide open, and a loose screen door swung ainlessly back and forth, though there was no wind.
John approached the doorway, and the swinging stopped. The screen door slammed in his face.
Courtney screamed.
"God, you're a twit," Brittany said scornfully.
"That's enough, girls," said Cimra. "You'd think you were sisters!"
"That's odd," said Jim thoughtfully, as he examined the door.
"What is it?" asked Cimra.
"There's nothing wrong with the hinges," he said. "I figured there'd be a problem there."
Trevor sighed. "Look, dude, it was just the wind," he said scornfully.
"WHAT wind?" asked John.
"Probably a gust or something," Trevor answered. "Something we wouldn't have felt. No big deal."
"Why don't we eat first, then have a look around the house to see where we need to start first?" suggested Cimra.
Everyone agreed, so they all pitched in; putting away groceries, setting out the bread, lunchmeat, and sodas. The meal was dispatched quickly.
Everyone had a full stomach and congratulated themselves on a fine meal. There were some leftovers; the group decided they could snack on those items later.
As they started looking around the house, Poindexter shouted “Where’s the bathroom?” No one really knew and Trevor said, “I think it’s over there!” Poindexter went running towards the door, opened it and slammed it immediately.
Brittany decided she would get one more bite of the leftovers, so she headed back to the kitchen. Strangely, everything was gone. She knew that nobody in the group had gone back to the kitchen as she was closest to that room.
As she wondered who ate all the food, she heard Poindexter screaming loudly.
Poindexter had gone out to the garage for the WD40. As he was walking back in the house from the garage, he said, ” I screamed because a palmetto bug flew in my mouth. The girls giggled and said no kissing till you brush your teeth. He drenched the squeaking door with WD40 and it stopped the squeak, but the door wasn’t plumb to the opening.
"Of course it isn't plumb," you fool, she said, shaking her hand. "I had my thumb in there to push in a loose screw when you pulled it to. Now, there's blood."
"Vampires like blood, so that's a good start," said Brittany, without guile. "Say, everyone, let's all break up and search the house for ghosts. The first one to find a ghost should shout out, 'Cheerio, to hounds!', or something like that."
Everyone agreed this would be fun, so off they went.
Courtney went to the broom closet where, oddly enough, the broom, the mop and the duster were swinging to and fro. She put out hand to stop the swinging and something grabbed her wrist. "Yikes!," she screamed. "There's one in here!"
Cimra rushed over. I thought we were going to say "Cheerio"? The mop, the broom and the duster began to move again. Cimra and Courtney looked at each other. Courtney said, "Uh, cheerio?" Cimra reached out and...
just that suddenly, all the movement stopped. The broom and the dust pan fell to the floor.
The girls screamed. The guys came running and asked what had happend. They didn't believe the story the girls told them.
After a while the ladies didn't believe it themselves. They thought probably their nerves had gotten the best of them.
It was beginning to get late into the afternoon by now. Cimra had to confess that she had failed to get the electric turned back on. It had been off since her uncle died.
They started searching around for candles because Cimra hadn't thought of those either. It was shaping up to be a long night.
They decided that they had better bring in the rest of their things while there was still light out.
They did have a few flashlights with them.
The girls went upstairs to pick out a room where they could all bunk together for the coming night. Just then...
...the batteries in all their vibrators died.
"This is the pits!," Cimra said. "I'm bailing."
They all went home.
So nobody was around when the ghosts started rattling the chains.
Cimra often wondered about that. What if there was rattling of the chains and there was no one about to hear them? Would they still make a noise?
She didn't dwell on it, though.
THE END
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