Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2169382
by Jen
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #2169382
Scary short story for Halloween Dare to read if you can... (snickers an eerie laugh)
My three friends and I on Hallows Eve took a dare to go visit Penelope Smit who lived in Bungalow Hill. Parents told

their children never to see the old lady who lived alone on Bungalow Hill because children never returned home. I

cant imagine how many times I relived that moment when the three of us visit that old lady at midnight on Bungalow

Hill. She lived in a cottage with wood board windows, and creaky wood board steps on her porch, when you

approached her home she knew company was coming.

"Come on, Peter." I dare you, I challenged him.

"Our parents said never go visit that old lady," Lindsey said.

"You scared?" You don't believe that do you?"

She's harmless." She's just lonely and want's some company."

One of the neighbors approached us. "Have a nice Hallows Eve."

"You too, I responded. When the neighbor returned home, Lindsey said, "Children were never seen again."

"She'll put a hex on you." I will never return home."

"Oh, don't be silly." Will play a trick and treat on her, she'll never know what hit her."

Peter interrupted before we could continue. "I'll go if Lindsey goes."

I looked up at closed my eyes, as if deep in thought. It was a cold October morning with the warm sun heating my face a few seconds,

when I looked at Lindsey. "Okay," I said. "Will go there after midnight, agreed?" Agreed. I said, putting out my right hand. Peter put his hand on top of mine, Bill and Lindsey followed suit and we spat in our palms for dare pack hand-shake.

"At night?" Bill Asked.

"Yes." Of course at midnight. I felt so excited when we returned home that morning. My life-long friends and I were

doing a double dare to visit Penelope Smit that night and weren't scared of the predictions of what other parents believed that their children will never return home again. I also knew my friends trusted me.

After midnight, we all met at the usual place. We all entered the cottage with a light on in the back room. I started

having doubts with a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. No quitting now, I thought when we stepped on the

front creaky porch that made a sound to tell Penelope company was coming. Along with another advice, a large

sign indicated {bNO TRESPRESS}{/bKeep Out!} I had an eerie sensation, but I had no reason to abort the mission now because we all agreed to visit the old lady. We had made a pack.

The sky darkened, stars broke out in a speckle of light, as a glowing full moon spat across the sky.
I was dreading this having my friends tag along to put their lives in danger. I don't know if the story was real?

Just frightened parents who believe their children never came out of that house.I still couldn't shake this horrible

feeling in my gut, but I couldn't back down now we were already on her porch. "Of course, we're still on, I whispered to Lindsey opening the door. "Are you wimping out?" "No way," she said. Bill and Peter nodded in agreement, but

they were scared. I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants while hoping it wouldn't make it hard for me to open the

door. I had an over whelming sense of dread. "Be quiet, I said as we took our flashlights and entered Penelope Smit's cottage.

My heart pounded when I reached the creaky wooden floor boards of her house. I froze while thinking of a reason

for us to turn around and run as fast as we could out of here. "What are you waiting for?" Lindsey asked. "Gimme

some light, I said heading back to the dark hallway through Penelope Smit's cottage. A few seconds later, we

entered the back lighted room a foul odor sneeked through the cracks of the walls that demanded my attention. I wondered if we could retrace our steps and go back.

"Smells like something died in here, " Lindsey said.

A wave of nausea made my stomach queasy while I shone my light down the dark hallway to another room. Again I thought to turn back and retreat, but instead turn my flashlight toward the short hallway to another room further inches away. " Let's Press on," I said.

"Wait, Peter blurted. "Look." His flashlight pointed further down the long, narrow hallway to an opened door that

looked like a trap door. I stepped in, fascinated by a cauldron boiling pot, spells, and witchery books. Their was

huge table with lighted candles and a skull bone in the center of the table. I swept the cobwebs from the books, picked it up, and mimicked a cackling laughter that used to make the children cringe. "Funny, ha-ha." Bill narrowed his eyes at me.

"Hey look," Lindsey said. She was standing near a bookcase with a some secret panel button or lever to prop it

open. She shoved the panel open and the bookcase open with a secret staircase leading below before I could stop her.
I panicked when I heard a voice in my head saying: { /b}TURN BACK NOW! DON"T PURSUE ANY FURTHER.

"Do you hear that?" Peter asked. "Something is scratching inside the walls."

"It's your imagination," I said, although I did hear that. While we stood still, I heard a moaning coming below the secret staircase. "Probably a mouse," I said, but the moaning I didn't know what to make of that. "We need to get moving."

With three flashlights beaming below the staircase walls, it seemed challenging to pursue further. "Stay close

together." I kept repeating, knowing something didnt feel right. Peter and I finally stepped into the musty room still

filled with that foul odor between the walls. "Where's Lindsey?" I asked. "She was behind you." "I ...don't see her."

"Great," I said. I started back to the other room, but a voice came from ahead of us.

"C'mon, guys." down here. It was Lindsey. I caught a glimpse of her brown hair when I turned my

flashlight in her direction. "Hey, I called out. "We're suppose to stick together." Stay where you are."

While walking through the musty room below, I nearly dropped dead from fright when we saw a young girl trapped

in chains against the walls. "Holy Jesus," Bill yelled. The young girl looked dungy and dirty and skin and bones of

malnutrition. My worries were just beginning when I heard a scream.

"That's Lindsey." "Let's get out of here," Peter whispered.

"Soon as we find Lindsey." Halfway through the cottage, I turned off my flashlight and told Peter and Bill to do the

same. As I expected a cackling eerie laughter broke out in the darkness.

That's Penelope Smit, Peter said.

"No kidding, Sherlock."

I called Lindsey's name when we heard a thud come from the staircase below where we didn't dare move huddled

together. Peter cursed and hit the ground.

Lindsey's answer to my call was a terrifying scream that came from the other side of the

room down the hallway.

While I fumbled to turn my flashlight back on to find Lindsey, her cries became more frantic.

I didn't see Lindsey, and I heard Peter let out a shrieking scream. I turned around and yelled, and Peter was gone.

Are they playing a joke on me?

I kept calling to Peter and Bill was still sticking to me like glue until there was another thud and Bill hit the ground.

While I tried to figure out what to do, another scream from Lindsey rang out.

"Hey guys, cut it out, I shouted. "If this is a joke it isn't funny." My voice sounded like a little scared girl. My legs felt

like putty while I stumbled through Penelope's cottage with both Lindsey and Peter calling my name and crying for

help. When I reached the top of the staircase that moved beneath my feet, Lindsey's pleas reached a new level.

"She's got my hair!" She shrieked. "Help me!"

My stomach felt as if it had been churned through a blender when I walked into the back room with the light on. I

heard Peter sobbing while I entered the room with the huge table and skull on the center of the table. I collected my

thoughts to come up with a plan. Not being able to come up with a better option than trying to escape, I picked up

my flashlight beaming it through the room when I saw my three friends boiling in the cauldron pot. I saw Peter

crying and mumbling for help.

I thought my state of fear might be playing tricks on me. I had even become accustomed to the awful smell that

followed along with me. The witch was boiling my friends for dinner, and there wasn't nothing I could do about it.

"Ah, company is here." Penelope laughed. "More children for my dinner." My hands trembled as I reached for my

flashlight to strike her, but she just laughed louder and raised her finger to cast a spell. Sheer terror ran through my

body as I froze like a statue. I was paralyzed to move.

I slumped down with my back against the door, feeling trapped and awaiting my fate. I was going to be dinner for

Penelope Smit like my friends. Then I heard something moving behind me. Turning around, I saw another secret

trap door. A way out!

I blew out the candles on her table, and made my escape. I exited out the metal secret trap door and ran home as

fast as my legs would carry. I turned and ran, fearing for my life. I looked back once, as I bolted, knowing I couldn't

have saved my three friends from their ending fate. My feet pumped as if my life depended on my speed. Parents

tried to warn their children not to go to Penelope Smit's cottage because she was an old lady who lived alone. The

police came and took her to a nursing home where she would get proper care and had doctors and nurses to care for.
She was senile and a little crazy.

They tore down her house after the horrible smell coming inside the cottage, and I threw up in the dead grass

thinking about my friends in her back room boiling in her caludron pot in the back room. I also couldn't imagine the

young girl in the staircase below in chains malnutritous and waiting her fate.

I can't help wondering if I could have saved them. It haunts me everyday. Sometimes, while I lay awake at night on

Hallow's Eve I feel like I can still hear their screams. We should have never dared to go to that cottage at Penelope

Smit's house and lost my life-long friends. In my mind she was a crazy old lady at Bungalow Hill but I still thought
she was a witch.

The End


© Copyright 2018 Jen (blueeyes50 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Log in to Leave Feedback
Not a Member?
Signup right now, for free!
All accounts include:
*Bullet* FREE Email @Writing.Com!
*Bullet* FREE Portfolio Services!
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2169382