My story – what do you think?
“Come on, Grandpa, tell us more!” exclaimed my little brother, Charley. I groaned and rolled my eyes; old war stories are not my favorite topics of discussion. Grandpa shrugged and sighed. “Sorry, Charley,” he said, “I’ve told you all the interesting ones already!” It was Charley’s turn to groan. “But Grandpa,” he whined, “I wanna hear another story!”
“How about,” I interupted, “how about you tell us a scary story.” Grandpa looked over at me from the fireplace looking surprised; he had forgotten I was in the same room, I had been so silent. “What a good idea, Ginger,” he said approvingly. I smirked at my brother and he glared right back at me.
“I think,” said Grandpa, completely oblivious to the mounting hostility between his grandchildren, “I’ll tell you an old local story. It’s about the abandoned church at the end of our block. Have either of you heard it before?” I shook my head and unconsciously shifted to the edge of my chair, suddenly interested in what he had to say.
“Well,” he began, “apparently that church is quite haunted. As the story goes, a young woman killed herself out of guilt for cheating on her husband. She hung herself from the rafters right above the cross of Jesus Christ.” He paused to let this sink in. “Her ghost,” he continued, “supposedly haunts the place, and every night, at 1:13 AM, she wanders the church, begging God’s mercy.”
A mischevious grin spread on my face at the thought of my new adventure. Without another word, I bounced out of my chair, leapt down the stairs, and flew out the front door in a whirl of excitement.
The moment I saw the doorknob of Blake’s front door turn, I charged in, nearly knocking the poor boy to the ground. “Blake! Blake, I have an idea!” I said excitedly, “Have you heard the story about the old church down the street?” He shook his head and I told him, word-for-word, the story I had just heard myself.
Blake’s dark eyes held the same kind of firey glow that mine boast when I get into mischief. That’s one of our few similarities: we are both incurable misfits. Nothing can beat the high we get when in the face of danger.
Seemingly out of nowhere, Kieran joined Blake and I. “So what’s going on, guys?” he asked. I explained to him the church’s story and told him of me and Blake’s unspoken, yet understood, plan to test the theory.
I was not surprised when I saw his face fall. He looked back and forth between us with an uneasy look on his face. “I dunno, you guys. That sounds pretty dangerous. What if we got into trouble?”
Blake and I immediately started to pick on him. “Chicken!” Blake jeered. I giggled and started to follow suit, but my conscious got the better of me. Instead, I elbowed Blake roughly in the ribs. He glowered at me and turned his attention to Kieran. “Fine then,” he said, “We’ll go without you. Won’t we, Ginger?”
I simply shrugged, not wanting to choose sides. I swear, as I looked into Kieran’s eyes, I saw him loose some secret inner battle with himself. Suddenly I felt a stab of guilt in my heart.
However, as quickly as the guilt had set in, it disappeared and was replaced with a sense of excitement and adventure. I looked over at Blake and begged him to go to the church now. At first he was doubtful, but he is easily persuaded.
We arrived at the intersection where the church is located at approximately 12:23 AM, after clever planning, scheming, and deciet. Our parents were dead asleep, unsuspecting as ever. This was no different than any other adventure of ours.
Without furthur stall, our small party snuck through the rickety fence into the courtyard of the church, pressure mounting in our chests. One by one, we climbed through one of the broken glass windows on the side of the church, being careful to make as little noise as possible. Once inside, we crept to the pews and sat in the front row, as if a mass was to be held.
Blake kept his eye on his watch, counting down the minutes and finally the seconds. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. We held our breath in suspense, but nothing happened for a few more minutes. Finally, three and a half minutes after the supposed time, the ghost of the woman appeared. She was, as expected, hanging right above the cross of Jesus. However, that did not make the appearance any less frightening. “Okay, so we’ve seen it. Let’s get out of here, now,” whispered Kieran.
There was a loud bang from somewhere within the bowels of the church, and all three of us jumped up in fright. For once, Kieran had a good idea.
We hustled to the nearest exit, another broken window, and made to climb out and run away. But suddenly a large silhouette was blocking our way. “And who might you be, to disturb our hour?” asked an even, silky, female voice.
Instead of answering the question, we turned, in unison, the other direction. We were trapped, silhouettes on every side of us.
I finally spoke up, masking my voice in mock courage. “We didn’t mean to disturb—er—bother you, w
Didn’t post all of it