“Robert was a patient in a hospital named the Seanol. Robert had gone horrific. He vapidly killed his daughter and wife. He tried running off to the neighbor’s house, but the police had beaten him to it. “
It was a sunny, humid Monday morning. I felt the cold breeze against my thrilling face. I walked through my wooden, oak door and quickly ran upstairs to my bedroom. I touched my thin piece of drafting paper and started drawing my new puppy.
“I don’t think my new puppy likes me,” I stated in a low mumbling voice, looking at my worn out dolls. My puppy jumped up and licked my drafting paper, vapidly not caring about the drawing. I looked at Caroline, my dog, and saw her big, blue, puppy eyes shining bright, like a raccoon’s in the darkness. I picked up one of my dolls and looked at them suspiciously, like they were my friends. I could see them walking and staring deep into my soul, trying to stop and warn me about something. I could see their big, shimmery, button eyes glowing luminously in my dark green room. Then, I heard a rumbling noise from the distance. My ears perked up, and I walked down the stairs.
“Mom! Dad! Yay! You’re here,” I yelled excitedly. I quickly saw the doorknob turn, and there were my mom and dad with their golden hair gleaming against the luminous sun.
Their faces looked stern as usual. They dropped their suitcases and hugged me. They kissed me on the cheek and, mysteriously, asked the same question they always ask me.
“Did you go into the basement?” They asked in a low, lucid voice. I turned my head and looked at the old, rusted, basement door and wondered what was in there. But then I shook my head at them and started into the dining hall for breakfast. They sat down and sighed in relief at my answer.
Day and night I thought about the basement. I heard this voice, echoing through my room whispering, “Go to the basement…”
I quickly had enough of this demon crawling into me. Shattering piece by piece of me each day. Everyday, I would run to my parents and ask them the same question: “Can I go into the basement?”
And every time I asked them, they would reply the same answer they always had: “No.”
But I had enough of their replies pulling me back and forth every time. I always wanted to obey them, but there was something about this basement that I had to find out. Desperately.
One day, at dinner, I asked my father again hoping he would say the answer I always dreamed he’d say. But once my father heard that dreadful question again…there was no going back. He slammed his fist on the table and yelled again, and again, and again.
“NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! YOU WILL NEVER GO DOWN THERE!!!!” He yelled, fiercely.
I got up from the table, knocking over my milk, and ran upstairs to my bedroom. There was nothing slowing me down. I slammed the door and tears started rolling down my red, rosy cheeks.The tears splattered on the carpet and that was when I saw a red liquid. I looked down on my carpet and there was blood.
Where was my puppy? I looked up at my ceiling. There, was my dog hanging from the ceiling, with its body covered in blood. I screamed. I did it again and again and again. But no one came to my room to help me.
I walked down my stairs one by one without lifting my head up to see my mother and father. There was silence. I quickly looked up and my mother and father were covered in blood. I turned to the basement door, and it was open.
“Mom? Dad?” I muttered under my hot, deep breath.
There was only one way to know how they died. I had to go into the basement. I ran upstairs and brought my flashlight and phone. I quickly ran downstairs and saw a note on the dining table with blood. I read it carefully:
Search this house address up and then you will know who I am…
I brought the note with me, and when I reached the basement door, there were bloody footprints going all the way into the basement. It was pitch black. I quickly grabbed my flashlight and turned it on quietly. The flashlight beamed and I could see bloody messages on the old dusty walls. “I Will Kill You” one said.
Then, I came to a stop. I held the note in my trembling hands and read it again. I turned on my phone, searched my house address up, and I was in shock. My mouth dropped, and I felt a shiver down my spine. I read the text carefully…
The Night of Friday the 13th 1765:
In the town of Moonlodge, there was a house that stood out from all sides. A beautiful, wooden, oak house filled with the kindness and respect of a benevolent family named the Sinols. But someone came upon this town, and Friday the 13th struck this house with terror. Robert had lived with his wife, Marie, and his daughter, Adele. Friday had brought noxious horror to this town and to this family.
Robert was a patient in a hospital named the Seanol. Robert had gone horrific. He vapidly killed his daughter and wife. He tried running off to the neighbor’s house, but the police had beaten him to it. He was surrounded by hundreds of them. He became startled and started threatening them. He went to the only place he believed the police would never find him…
But one police man was in there hoping to find Robert running down the soulless stairs. The policeman, Jeffrey Gomber, shot him. But the body was never found anywhere. There are rumors in this town about the absence of the body. They say he ran off and faked his death. But we don’t know. No one has seen him in 20 years.
Her voice lost its rhythm. Her skin turned pale, and her eyes started looking around. Her flashlight lost its power. And she was alone. Alone with Robert…
She closed her eyes and felt a cold bloody knife poking through her. And that was the end for her. The end for Abby Seanol…
Mia, You’re such a great writer! Congratulations. Wishing you much success and great joy with writing!
Your Auntie Evie