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Rated: E · Short Story · Action/Adventure · #930028
Joeseph Opal is trapped. He'll be lucky to live till Christmas.
Joseph Opal was exiting a boring class he had just attended. He was tall, black, his eyes were brown, light brown and delicate. He had strong arms, and a sturdy posture, he played a lot of Basketball, with his best friend, Martha Eckerstall, who had long curly black hair and was small and slim, a small waist, narrow shoulders. Although she was stronger than she looked. Inside and out.
He met her at the front Entrance to the school. They were glad they had each other as they went to boarding school, and had been incredibly nervous on their first days. No, not nervous. Petrified.
Old and grey, it stood like three huge towering gravestones, with a school motto which read:
"We believe in short sharp discipline, always the best remedy for difficult children"
Obviously, not all the children were difficult, which meant naughty and brattish, but politely, just people like Simon Tyrone and Freddie Bengal.
As Joe and Martha jogged slowly over to the indoor basketball court, which meant running outside, in their school sports kit and trainers, Joe heard a rustle in the bushes behind him. He sharply tuned around, then, without a warning, he just fell sideways in to pitch blackness and dark.
People. Misty, white, ghost people. Floating spookily above his head, circling like hungry vultures in the middle of an Australian desert. His eyes were stretched open, and were watering because of the bone chilling cold sweeping around him. A voice. Cold. Ghosty.
"Joseph. Tomorrow. Death. Midnight. You may live or maybe......" The ghost speaker was nearly touching his nose. "NOT" An eerie spooky laugh echoed around him, rattling his bones.
Martha. His eyes snapped open to reveal Martha, tears streaming down her face, her voice trembling and her warm hand on his cheek.
She was shaking his shoulders.
"OH JOE!" When she saw him wake up, he jumped into her arms and cried heartily onto her shoulder.
"You gave me such a scare!" He couldn't stop looking at her hair, which was tied back to her head with a French plait. She looked beautiful that way, her hair was usually out.
He gazed at her, then remembered the message.
He was going to die. For real. Tomorrow night. Midnight.
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