The Second Door on the Right

I walked up to the main doors that led into the large front entrance way, since I was holding a lot of stuff, I used my whole body in an attempt to push the door open. It didn't open so I quickly pushed it again, it still refused to open. I leaned back fast and threw my weight against the door repeatedly. I sensed people standing behind me, waiting for me to open the door but I didn't turn around. At this point, I was pretty frustrated. I mumbled to myself, “Gees, I can't even open doors!”. I took a deep breath and a step backwards and then I moved everything I was holding into one hand and pushed on the door as hard as I could. It opened! I sighed with relief and walked forward into the entrance way, pushing the door open wide. Suddenly, I heard someone say something behind me, “You know, I think those were some pretty good door opening skills.” I giggled and turned my head around as they said “Yeah, most people would have just pushed the door once but you went for an eight time approach.” I looked at them and saw a stupid smirk on their face, I smiled at them and then walked out the door. Sometimes I'm so ridiculous, it's even funny to me.

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The City That Never Sleeps (By: Liam Casola)

            The man’s heavy footsteps echoed loudly across the nearly-empty street, his feet slapping the pavement with the intensity of someone sprinting at full speed. Panting heavily, the man stopped for the briefest of moments to adjust his large, baggy overcoat and tie his shoes. Satisfied, he continued onward, splashing through a number of large puddles created from a torrential downpour of steady rain the entire night. As the man continued to run, the rain continued to fall; his entire body was soaked from this natural onslaught of water. He had been running for hours all over Manhattan, desperately searching for information that could lead him to the whereabouts of someone important to him, someone he might never see again. Most people would have given up such an incredulous task long ago, but not him. It was almost two o’clock in the morning, and the normally busy areas of Downtown Manhattan were eerily quiet. However, there were signs of life in the city that never sleeps. A flicker of lights across the street indicated that the owner of a small flower shop was still awake, while the faint outline of the Brooklyn Bridge was just visible to the naked eye. Large, flashing billboards lit up the desolate area, advertising the latest 4.8-inch screen cell phone.  A large, white car zoomed by, blaring loud reggae music out of its windows. Looking up, the man noticed an old woman hobbling past him, muttering to herself in a foreign language. The man forced himself to ignore these distractions, and instead focused on a tattered piece of paper he had been carrying in his back pocket. Once neatly printed, but now smudged in blue ink was an address, one that the man had preciously treasured for years. Now, he was finally here. He had finally arrived.

            Looming above the man was a monstrous skyscraper, its mere presence frighteningly overwhelming. Its frame cast long, dark shadows of epic proportions. The man frustratingly fiddled with the door, entering after what seemed to be an eternity. He slowly glanced around, taking in his surroundings, noticing the lighted interior and realizing that this was the first time in hours he was out of the rain. Suddenly, a scuffling sound broke the eerie silence. The man slowly turned and was surprised to see a construction worker standing before him. The worker silently gestured to follow him, and began to lead the man through a series of stairs, walkways and complicated internal areas of the building. Although the man could not tell where exactly they were going, he did notice that they were heading upward. After a particularly strenuous set of stairs, the worker stopped at a rusty steel door. He turned to the man and said, “You must go alone from here. Wait for the contact to arrive.” The man thanked the worker, entered, and grimaced as the door quickly slammed shut behind him. He was alone, outside and on the roof of the building. As he waited, the man slowly walked around the perimeter of the roof, taking in the beautiful sight of the restless city. The rain had finally subsided. Gleaming lights were shining everywhere and the buildings magnificently lit up the skyline. Despite the beautiful view, he was bitterly disappointed. Time ticked on and on, and no one had arrived yet. Feeling duped, the man was getting ready to make his way back to the door when he began to hear a low humming sound in the distance. It slowly grew louder and louder, eventually culminating into a deafening roar. Looking up, the man saw the shape of a black helicopter flying across the sky, heading towards the building. It quickly descended upon the roof of the building, perfectly landing on yellow “H” circle. The man stood in amazement as the rotors of the flying machine spun slower and slower, eventually coming to a complete stop. After what seemed like an eternity, the door finally opened. Carrying a thick package in one hand and an umbrella in the other, a woman slowly made her way out of the cockpit of the helicopter. She wore the same 6-inch high heels, the same long, black coat, the same pair of gloves with a small hole directly above the index finger. The woman began to stride towards the man with a crisp, very matter-of-factly gait. The man noticed the woman had a face of stone as she came to within speaking distance. However, when she finally approached the man, her expression softened for the briefest moment. A hint of recognition appeared in her eyes as she whispered a simple, “Hello.” Time stood still as a floodgate of memories between the two burst, a wave of nostalgia passing over the man as he desperately tried to relive his former life. The woman handed the package to him and said, “Inside is everything you’ll need. Make sure you’re careful and don’t arouse any suspicion. Lay low for a while, then act when you get the chance.” The man solemnly nodded, knowing this was it. He opened the package and found a number of essential items; fake passports, social insurance numbers and driver’s licenses, all with different names; a business card of a former associate, a map of St. Petersburg, Russia, and a silver, Glock P14 pistol. For a moment, neither of them spoke as they both took in their surroundings and breathtaking view. Finally, the woman said, “I can’t stay for long, I have another assignment. Take care Allan.” The woman opened her umbrella (for the rain had begun again), marched to the cockpit of the helicopter and started its engines. As the rotors began to spin faster and faster, the man was caught in a state of shock. Was this what he really wanted? Did he really have a choice? The rain began to fall more ferociously, splattering down in thick drops on his head. The rotors of the helicopter spun faster and faster, soon gaining enough momentum to lift the helicopter from the ground. With one last sly smile, the woman turned the helicopter around and propelled it away from the building. The man looked onward as its shape became smaller and smaller, assimilating itself into the city that never sleeps, until it completely disappeared, forever lost in the shadows of the night.  

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The Wild Ones (By: Eden Lewis)

The warm, dry air was disturbed only by a cool breeze that rushed through the trees and momentarily evaporated the perspiration on my face. The sun beat from above but the vibrant grass below was cool and soft and lush.  A stream steadily flowed, close enough to hear the gurgling and bubbling as the clear water flowed over rocks that had become smooth and round - but far enough that you couldn't smell the stagnant water that pooled along the edges, decorating the winding stream and providing breeding grounds for buzzing, dutiful mosquitoes and aquatic life. I walk slowly through this natural plot, coming ever closer to the end of the peace and beauty that only nature can replicate. The stench of plastic and chemicals begins to mingle with the scent of rich dirt and blossoming flowers, I'm regretting my decision already. I walk towards the suburbia of the end of my land. My lonely green pack of bountiful, beautiful land that is surrounded not by more beauty or even those appreciative of beauty, but by the bricks and wrought iron fences and expensive things that these people, these sad beings, these ever-lonely and emotionless robots surround themselves with to protect themselves, to make them feel less . . . less lonely, less hungry for passion, less lovely. 

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High Flying Bird (By: Peter Herriman)

“Once the events on the evening of November 27^th 1948 started, nothing would ever stop them until sunrise.” 

            As I walk up to 52^nd street between Fifth and Seventh Avenue I think to myself “I wonder who is playing at the 3 Deuces Jazz club tonight?” The night is frigid from the quick change of season in late November. The leaves have fallen, the cold breeze skimming my face and the roads are rather slick from the light dusting of snow we’d had the night before.  I know I am close to the action as the streets become dense with people. The well-dressed women and the men in their newly tailored suits surely bring a sense of style to the New York Jazz scene. Once I hit Fifth Avenue, I can see the presence of a nearly God like atmosphere. Although it is nighttime, the neon club signs brighten the sky around 52^nd street. The strong smell of marijuana is also prevalent throughout the clubs on Fifth Avenue. Continuing up the street I pass by one of the hippest joints in town, the “3 Deuces” Club.    

“Oh good heavens! The Charlie Parker Quintet are playing, I have to go in, maybe I can finally meet the great ‘bird” himself”; no one plays Sax like Bird. Charlie Parker’s nickname was always “Bird”, whether it was his love of chicken that gave him the name or not, we can’t be sure.  But it inspired many of his classic song titles such as “Yardbird”. I enter the 3 Deuces and immediately feel a rush from the energy that permeates the place. The people, both blacks and whites, are surprisingly in the same room without conflict, why is it like that in here but total war outside? The room is rather small and a thick layer of smoke has risen to the top. There are people everywhere! Yelling, laughing and everyone is drinking. So of course, to fit in, I light up a cigarette and go to the bar for a drink. The bartender, a big man towering at least six foot three stands there “Cognac Hennessy please”, before I look back to see if the musicians have arrived a voice interrupts “Make that two, I need a good stiff drink!” I look back and it is no one other than Bird himself. I do not know what to say? Do I start a conversation, should I ask for an autograph? Or do I even have the audacity to ask to sit in with these guys I am just a white boy who likes Jazz, but can I really play it? The bartender slams the drinks down “There you go gentlemen”, and turning to me adds “No charge since you’re with Charlie.” I was shocked to say the least. Me being associated with the great Charlie Parker, it was indeed an honor just to drink the same as him. “Thanks Max” says Charlie, he was not a very old man probably not even thirty yet, but up close I see a very worn out young man. His eyes were red and he a rather gaunt look about him, not the type of look you would see from such a precious musician. Despite these changes, I hope his playing is as good as it is on the albums.

            His musicians walk in behind him, Max Roach on Drums, Miles Davis on Trumpet, Leonard Gaskin on bass and Dexter Gordon on Tenor Sax, what a lineup! However, I look at Max Roach and he looks very sick from withdrawal, almost yellow in good light. These guys work hard, I suppose they are used to it.

            As I sit down in front of the stage, the band starts, the music is invigorating and the effect these men have on the audience is outstanding. The first intermission is after two hours of essentially improvisation. I finished my Cognac 20 minutes in, but I could not get up, in respect for the musicians. I saw that Charlie Parker’s drink was also empty what’s the least I could do for someone so great, I might as well get him a drink since he “bought” me one. I go back up to the bar, “Cognac Hennessy please, could you make that two I will buy one for Charlie.” The bar tender gives me a rather odd look, “You do realize that Charlie ends up just drinking the bottle, right?” I was astounded that someone can do that and still stand up. “Really? Well might as well start.” I go back to the front and offer Charlie his new drink. “Charlie, Here’s a new drink, now we’re even.” I felt that witty remark might start a conversation of some sort. “Thanks man.” He responds. Before the second set starts, Max Roach gets up and asks Charlie something, he got worse in the first set, now his withdrawal has made him totally yellow.

            I have played Jazz drums for 15 years but when I finished university I felt I was not suited to have a desk job. I have done a few Jazz gigs but nothing on the level of these guys.  Charlie’s response to Max is rather sympathetic, “Man if you feel that bad, you should have told me, but I bet we will find someone to sit in, go home and I will see you in the morning.” Are they serious? Someone gets to sit in. This is the moment I have been waiting for. Charlie asks “Can anybody play the drums?” everybody looks around, I slowly put my hand up, “Cognac guy? Aright, might as well give you a try.” The adrenaline was beginning to kick in, was I actually going to be playing with Charlie “Bird” Parker. I got up onto the stage, shaking with fear and excitement. What was going to happen? Would I do well? Or would I fail?

            As I started, Charlie looks back, “Start us off, just swing, we will follow”. I began to swing on the ride cymbal, I was a tad fast but once I started “Bird” was right there with my right hand. He was incredible; I was incredible, what was in the Cognac? Maybe now I know why he drinks that.  Throughout the entire set, Charlie kept looking back at me and smiling, no cues, just playing with no intermissions for two more hours. By the end I’m drenched and exhausted.

            As soon as we finish playing, I decide to leave; I was not part of Charlie’s band. Before I get to the stairs that lead up to the cold nights of 52^nd street’s winter. Charlie yells my name, “Would you like to come to the other gig we have lined up tonight? I understand it’s 2:30 in the morning, but the pay will be even better than this place?’  How could I resist? Even though I was tired, this may be my chance to shine and maybe become somebody. I took the job and we headed out to the street.

            The street was very quiet, and even colder than before.  We head over to the Village Vanguard in Greenwich Village for the second gig of the night. We hop in a cab to the gig, except Charlie and the band mates were to take a detour. I already knew Charlie was a junky, but what I didn’t know was that he was addicted to basically everything you could consume. Alcohol, Heroin, Morphine, Marijuana, Women, and who knows what else.

            When we arrive at Charlie’s apartment I was surprised to see how large it was, especially for New York.  Charlie’ s Apartment was at 5 Great Jones Street, an awesomely old-time loft building between Broadway and Lafayette. He takes us up to his apartment, the stairs rickety and rotting as a cold emotion flowed throughout the hallway. His apartment was rather clean for a junky, but the examples of drug use were highly evident. The use of needles, pills and alcohol were the main diet of this genius of a musician. I began to feel uncomfortable, unsure and confused of what was actually going to happen. Was I going to do drugs? If I do will I be cool? Of course “Bird” went to his apartment for a quick session before the gig. It’s getting late and I’m wondering what time we had to be at the gig. My watch said 3:00am; the gig was at 3:30am, we had better get there quickly. “Just one minute” Charlie goes into the kitchen and the rustling of silverware and opening and closing of cupboards is quite easy to hear.  Charlie returns with one spoon, a needle, matches, and a bag of white powder. “What’s the sugar for?” I said sarcastically, “You want some? It will keep you awake. “ I was not used to drug use, I had smoked some marijuana in my as of yet eventless life of 24 years. “ What the Hell!” I thought I might as well stay awake. I stuck my arm out, Charlie stuck himself, Dexter stuck himself, Charlie inserted the needle into my arm and a huge warm rush went up my arm into my brain, I could feel the drugs spreading through my veins like a cancer.

            “Let’s get to the gig, I think we are all on the same page now.” Charlie leads us to the door my head is spinning.  Walking down the stairs this time is a Herculean feat, my balance is completely off and to me, and I felt like everything was spinning. I cannot tell if the night got colder, or if my senses were on a rush from the heroin, all I know is that once this night began, I knew it would not end till morning.

            As we looked for a cab to the show, the cars drove by very slowly, yet I had energy. I was ready for anything, The Street was quiet, dark and mysterious, yet the heavy sound of car engines was highly evident.  It takes a while for us to hail a cab,” To the Village Vanguard!” demanded Charlie. I looked out the window as we drove, I could see every last water droplet on the window, streaming past as we drove through the cold, wet night.  Was I seriously on a high given to me by Charlie “Bird” Parker? When I walked into the 3 Deuces I had no idea that this night would end up like this. How do I know this is even happening? Could this be a dream? I tried to come to my senses before the gig. “How are we going to do this?” Said Dexter Gordon. Dexter is a quiet man, rather introverted as a personality but extroverted when given a tenor sax. I often wonder how hard these men have worked to have a “steady” job. I was only 24 years old, how am I in this situation? My mind was completely free, is this real world? Am I even here? My mind was racing so much, I feel asleep.

            The cab comes to a sudden halt. Bright lights begin to go to my head, I see a large awning that says “Village Vanguard”, and I was here for the gig. The doors of the cab open, and we slide out.  “You ready kid?” the band asks in unison, “As ready as I every will be” I confidently reply. Why I was so confident I have no idea, I am nobody is this large city of talented musicians. How did I get this role? The doors of the Vanguard open and we enter.

            Much larger than the 3 Deuces, the Village Vanguard is a long roomy club; smoke filled with sharply dressed men puffing on cigarettes and tobacco pipes. The women slink by, stunning and elegant, they are the critics of Jazz, who we rely on for support and the spreading of our reputation. I felt completely self conscious, that everybody was judging me, “That’s not Max Roach!” I heard a younger, student-looking man say. I knew I had to blow people away, or Charlie’s reputation would be in jeopardy. “Please Welcome Charlie Parker and the Quintet” the crowd roared with applause as we walked on stage. There is no better feeling than sitting behind people to admire. Yet, I felt the fear of Charlie Parker counting you in shudder through my body you know that after beat four your night begins. “1, 2…1,2,3,4.” The night starts with an extremely up-tempo swing. I have never felt more alive.

            By 6:30 am I’m returning home, after a night of alcohol and drugs. Was going to the 3 Deuces worth it after all? Or have I opened a door to a new way of life? I will have to wait and see until I go next week. I hear Bird’s playing there again next week, I might just have to drop in and buy him a drink. 

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Dramatic Drum Roll (By: Olivia Herbert)

I waited. For a sign, a smile. Something that would grant me the knowledge that he is still in there. That he was okay, but with each moment that passed I was constantly disappointed. Tyler sat unmoving, not making a single sound. We sat side by side on the cold concrete floor, which was surrounded by shelves upon shelves of empty jars. Leaving me uncomfortable, feeling like a cadged animal with no sign of escape. Yet there was an urge within the pit of my stomach. One that burned like the depths of the underworld itself. I knew what had to be done. It was time for the hunter to become the hunted. Mitchell has to pay for what he'd done.

"Tyler? Tyler? We need to come up with a plan." I whispered softly. His sea blue eyes, as deep as the Mariana Trench itself, flickered to me, but only for moment. "We can't just sit here and wait for him. If we don't do something, we're giving him the upper hand."

A long moment of silence followed after I spoke. "You know she's right Tyler."

My breath caught in my throat. Neither of us had made a sound. There was someone else in this cellar. I slowly looked to my left, dreading what I might find. A girl and a boy sat diagonally across from us. Hands intertwined, clothes caked in blood and dirt. I wondered how long they had been here.

"Who are you?" "I'm Bay and this is Emmett. And who might you be?" I was afraid to answer. The words I wanted so desperately to say, gathered in my mouth but lingered on my tongue. Maybe it was because of all the backstabbing and double-crossing. Maybe because I just couldn't trust them quite yet. All I could do was stay quiet.

"I'm Tyler. That's Natalie. May I ask what you're doing here?" I saw Tyler in the corner of my eye giving me a questioning but disapproving look. "Shh," the girl named Bay hushed.

"You mustn't speak too loudly, the others will hear us. Come closer and then we'll talk." Something didn't feel right, but Tyler didn't take a second to think it over. He stood up but remained low to the ground as he walked towards them, taking a seat next to Emmett. However I was hesitant. Why hadn't they asked us to move closer in the beginning? What kind of a trick was this? Nevertheless curiosity got the best of me when I followed afterward.

"Emmett and I had been on the road when it all started. For months we had planned for this day. It was the day that we were going to run away together," muttered Bay once I sat. Despite the circumstances, I felt a smile forming on the edge of my lips.

"Our parents never approved nor understood our relationship. We were the happiest we've ever been once being free of their rules and hatred. Although, that didn't end up lasting long because the suns rays that had beamed down on us so beautifully, disappeared. Then dark clouds suddenly loomed above us. It was like all the light and joy in the world had vanished."

As Bays words painted the scene, I felt like I'd already been there. Or that she had been in the car with us when we crashed.

"It was never ending. The rain came down so heavily I was in fear the windshield might cave in. I remember my heart pounding in my chest, so loud I could have sworn I heard it over the crackling thunder. The next thing I knew, the air bags had been deployed, my vision was blurred, and blood trickled down my dress from my side. The rain had made it nearly impossible to see where I was going, therefore causing me to drive off the road and send us tumbling down a hill."

I stared at her in disbelief as several questions clouded my judgement. How had the exact same events happened to the both of us?

"Emmett was badly injured, but even when I tried to drag him out of the wreck myself it was no use. I cried out for help, after what seemed like an eternity someone finally came. Emmett had already been unconscious for over fifteen minutes."

An image of Mitchell passed through my mind, making me shudder. To my surprise, I felt Tyler's arm drape over my shoulders in a comforting motion. My skin tingled where his hand laid. I looked up at him gratefully. Our faces so close, yet he seemed miles away.

"The man said he lived in the house nearby, but moments before hadn't seen one." Bays voice startled me, once I was brought back to earth and the situation. I tried to pay attention, though I bit my tongue attempting to ignore the desire my lips prickled with.

Without any other options I followed the man towards the rickety, uninviting house. I watched him nervously as he carried Emmett over his shoulder. I knew something wasn't right, a nervous knot had formed in my throat and my stomach twisted into several uncomfortable knots.

At that moment I could have sworn Bay and I were the same person. That we had experienced the same things, met the same people. At that moment our hearts seemed to beat as one, in perfect harmony. I sat impatiently to hear more of the story we somehow shared.

The door creaked eerily as we entered through it. Suddenly the awful combination of mold, decay and death assaulted my nostrils. Cringing slightly, I followed the helpful stranger into what I could assume to be the kitchen, where he set down Emmett's unconscious body. I felt slightly shy when I realized the man hadn't said anything the entire time, thus startling me when he asked me my name and my whereabouts. I told him my name was Sally and I was on the road with my boyfriend. But it was something in his eyes that told me he knew I was lying. His friendly sweet smile unexpectedly twisted into a vicious, foul smirk. At that instant I abruptly found myself caught between two options. Run and think only of myself. Or stay and do everything in my power to protect Emmett, whose body still laid limp on the kitchen table.

My heart began to sink in my chest, for I knew this wasn't going to end happily ever after. Since they were still here. Hiding, waiting for their killer to find them. I guess we had more things in common then I thought.

So of course I stayed with Emmett. Knowing there was no way I would be able to live without him. I swallowed my fear and held my chin up high as I watched the man twirl a knife in his hand. I stood in front of Emmett, standing my ground, even though my legs wobbled unsteadily.

Bays voice became faint as a series of sobs erupted from her. Almost like she's been holding it in the whole time. Even with Emmett brushing away every tear that fell from underneath her closed eyelids. She struggled to continue.

"The man told me his name was Alaric. Although I had about as much trust in him as he did in me. Alaric then told me how he hated when people lied to him. He said it reminded him of his wife who had died a while ago. I offered my condolences, which caused a rage unlike no other to emerge from him. Alaric's anger so powerful, I would be lying if I said the room wasn't heating up. I looked down at the knife he had been holding this whole time. His knuckles turning white from clutching its handle. Unexpectedly, Alaric grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and pushed me against the wall. His odd black eyes bored into mine like hot charcoal."

I remembered the look on Mitchell's face when I went to look back at them. His eyes had a similar dark essence to them. It was as if they were two dark vortexes that would pull you in if you got too close. Once these thoughts passed through my mind, two puzzle pieces seemed to snap together. Unexpectedly, I finally understood what was happening.

"Bay. Would it be possible that this Alaric guy and our killer Mitchell could be the same person?"

I fiddled with my thumbs anxiously while awaiting her answer, but she seemed lost in thought. When she finally answered I realized I had been holding my breath the entire time.

"No, that's definitely not possible," said Bay. A wave of relief washed over me. Although what I hadn't realized was, Bay hadn't finished.

"That's definitely not possible because we killed him..."

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A Dead End (By: Olivia Herbert)

Have you ever just cried and cried until you have no more tears left? Until your red in the face but no longer blue in the heart.This was something i had been doing for hours once finding my sister dead in the shower. The image of her cold dead eyes still etched in my head permanently. My stomach lurched, my head hurt, and i missed my sister. We had to get out of here, but because of how my plan went previously. I was fresh out of ideas. “What are we going to do!?” I wailed. “Not only are we stranded. But now we have a killer after us.” The very thought made all the hope i had die inside me. If we didn’t get out of here soon. We were going to end up like my sister. Or maybe even worse. Thoughts of Faye ran through my head like a movie. So realistic it was like she was still alive or better yet that she was never dead. But i had to face the facts. Faye was gone and she was never coming back. “That’s it. We have to get out of here right now.” Suggested Tyler while kneeling over Mitchell's unconscious body. I wondered what he’d be saying if he were awake. Maybe he would have had a better plan. One that could save us and get us back home. “Hows Mitchell doing Tyler?” He didn’t awnser. I watched him as he paced back and forth. Making the floorboards creak incessantly as he did. “Tyler. You have to calm down. Pacing isn’t going to help us come up with a plan.” Bead’s of sweat rolled down his face one after the other. He was panicking. A sudden urge to help emerged from deep within me and i felt my cheeks grow warm once again. “Tyler. I know you're scared. We all are. But there’s one thing fear can’t take away from us. Each other. Face it. We’re in this together.” I caught sight of a small smile playing on the edge of his lips. Deep down. He knew i was right. I glanced over my shoulder to see Savannah. She had her knees drawn up to her chest like a small frightened child hiding in a closet. Savannah's ocean blue eyes darted across the room as her small rose petal pink lips whispered words of none sense. This house was driving us all mad. We were on the brink of insanity. "If we keep this up, we're all going to go mad before the killer can get to us. But, honestly I don't know what will be more horrific. Do you guys really want that? We need to take action. We need to fight back! And we need to do it now." A sliver of hope glimmered in each of there eyes as I spoke encouraging words. Suddenly, Savannah stood up from the spot where she previously cowered and said " I'll go get firewood from the shed I saw outback earlier" she said, bolting for the door. " Savannah! No! Wait for someone to go with you" it was too late. She was gone before I could stop her. Savannah disappeared into the darkness and I doubt we'd ever see her again.
Tears burned in the back of my eyes like acid. "I'm sure she'll be fine" Said Tyler who's voice echoed from behind me."Remember what happened last time someone said that. The bathroom got re-decorated. With my sisters blood!" a sudden rage surged through me like an addictive drug. I spun around and almost immediately ran into Tyler's warm embrace. I cried heavily into his shoulder. Which smelled of pine trees and cinnamon. But once my eyelids fluttered open, salt water still clinging to them, I noticed something no one else had. Mitchell was gone. "Oh god......Oh dear god! Tyler!!! Look." I screamed and pointed to the spot where Mitchell's body had been previously. He turned and his hazel eyes grew wide. "But. Where did he go!? He was nearly dead the last time I checked on him. He barely had a pulse!" My heart had leapt down my thought, preventing me from speaking. A banshee like scream came from outside. It was Savannah. "Come on! We have to try and save her!" Tyler grabbed my wrist with incredible force before I could get two footsteps toward the door. I narrowed my eyes at him. "Don't you dare underestimate me. Just because I didn't get to my sister in time doesn't mean I won't be able to save her." I shook off his grip and let the doors to outside swing outwards. "Savannah!?" I called. Hands cupped around my face to amplify my voice but no luck. Footsteps came from behind me and I was relived when I discovered it was only Tyler. Who to my surprise joined me in calling out. The sun had gone down and it was now nighttime. The moon shown bright and full in the navy blue sky. Although it was bright and beautiful, the bad news is: I could barely see my hand in front of my face. I stopped yelling once my throat seized up in discomfort and once I felt a raindrop land on my head. Wait....it wasn't raining. Slowly and cautiously. I looked down at my hand and saw a liquid like red dot. Blood. Without another word without another thought, I glanced above. "I found Savannah." My stomach twisted like a roller coaster for the second time in one day. She hung from a banner that faced outwards at the top of the house. A noose encircled her neck like an ugly piece of jewelry and her eyes were as white as her skin.
I could barley feel Tyler's arms wrap around me as they dragged me back in the house. A menacing voice came from outside and I froze. Like livestock about to get slaughtered I stood completely still. For there was only one person who that could be.... Mitchell

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The House Of Horrors (By: Olivia Herbert)

I didn't know whether I was awake or dreaming. And the guilt set in before reality did. This was all my fault. If I had got the stupid old car checked up on before we left as my dad suggested, then this never would have happened. I did this. Once the haze of confusion and dizziness cleared I called out to the others, "Is everyone okay?" "I am," choked Savannah as she shifted slightly in the passengers seat. "I am too. Thanks for asking," Faye spoke, she was still her typical self. "What about Tyler and Mitchell? Are you guys okay?" I asked. "I'm fine. But Mitchell. Oh god. There's a lot of blood Natalie....I-I-I think he might be dead. The gash on his head is pretty bad," Tyler replied. "We need to take him to the hospital," I said and used all my strength to drag myself out of he wreck, and into the pouring rain where lightning lit up the sky. "Come on we need to find shelter and call 911. We can't just sit here," I watched as Savannah and Faye followed out after me. Meanwhile Tyler struggled to drag both himself and Mitchell out, but he wouldn't let anyone else help him. "I'm going to call for help," I yelled over the rain. I flipped open my cellphone and realized I had no service, "Does anyone have service?" They pulled out their cellphones and shook their heads. "What are we going to do!? We're going to d- you guys look!" Savannah screeched. We looked in her direction and saw that she was pointing at a house that seemed to come out of nowhere. Without another word we all ran towards it. It was shelter. Right then, that was all that mattered. We knocked on the old wooden door several times but no answer. Tyler, once catching up to us took one look at the door, broke the glass, reached in and unlocked the door. "Tyler! Are you insane!? Somebody could be in there!" I yelled. "This place looks too old for anybody to be living here. Besides do you see any cars near here besides ours?" I didn't object. We were tired, wet, cold and injured. Besides we had nowhere to go. The floorboards creaked eerily as we took our first step into the house. "I have a bad feeling about this," Savannah whimpered. "Suck it up you wimp," replied Faye. I could tell this was going to ruin all chances of having fun. This trip to my cottage was supposed to make spring break an awesome experience, but it was official, our plans were ruined and this day couldn't get worse. "We're going to die in here," whined Savannah. "I'm sure we'll be fine. This place isn't that bad," I lied. "Yes. Let's all listen to Goody two shoes Natalie. Who is the one who got us into this mess in the first place!" Faye's voice boomed, shaking the whole house and making the cob webs dance above us. "Shut up Faye! It's not like I put the deer in front of the car!" I spat back. "Oh so you decided to swerve off the road and tumble down a ditch. Risking your friends lives doesn't matter to you because the center of the universe always and always has be you!" Ouch."Come on Faye. Sisters aren't supposed to fight." Her honey colored eyes darted across the room, refusing to look at me. "Yeah well I was always a rule breaker not a rule follower," she replied. My heart ached. She already started to walk upstairs when she said, "I'm going upstairs to have a shower if the water works. I'll be in the washroom if anyone needs me." The room fell quiet after she was gone. After a few moments of much needed silence, in a worried voice Tyler said, "Natalie? I need you to come help me put pressure on the wound on Mitchell's arm while I tend to his head." I nodded and walked briskly over to Mitchell's unconscious body. I knelt beside him and tried to ignore the smell of the coppery blood. While putting pressure on Mitchell's wound, I watched Tyler bandage his head with great agility and skill. I was quite impressed, but I quickly looked away once noticing my cheeks getting hotter by the second. "Guys what are we going to do? No one knows we crashed. Our phones aren't working and we're miles from home," Savannah asked, she has always been the worrying type but I've never seen her like this. "We're going to be fine." An ear piercing scream made me lose my train of thought. I jumped up immediately. It was Faye. Something was wrong. I ran up the curved staircase and almost tripping several times. "Natalie wait! Wait for us!" they called after me but I kept on going. Even though we fight I am still her sister. As I approached the bathroom door I could hear the water still running but there was complete silence. My heart pounded like a hammer against cloth. I reached for the doorknob and felt it's cold surface on my hand. I turned it and let the door swing inwards. Stepping through the doorframe I let out a whimper, because in front of me was the most horrific scene I have ever seen. Written on the white wall in blood was, "evil lives here....." In fear and discomfort I ran over to the bath tub and yanked open the curtain to find it filled with blood. Hot tears poured down my face, but what had happened? Then, through my blurry vision I saw it. It......it....was.....her head. A horrific scream escaped me as I was consumed with fear and confusion. She was dead. Decapitated, and skewered by the shower head. It went right through her neck and was still running. My stomach twisted into several knots I knew it would never come out of. Tyler and Savannah came in not too soon after. "Oh my god," they both said in a chorus. " What happened?" "I just found her like this," I answered between sobs. "Wait. If we were all down stairs. Who is did this and why?"

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From Beyond the Grave (By: Rebecca Moodie)

I take a flower from the bouquet I hold in my hands and smell it. The sweet scent made my nostrils twitch and I sneezed. I put the bouquet of daisies by the grave stone and felt a tear slide down my cheek. She was my life. My little sister, died so young. Killed herself because of her unpopularity. Apparently she had no friends at school or anything. I don't know how, she's such a lovable person.

"Hey Adrianna," I said to the stone. I ran my hand along the edge and felt a shiver run down my spine. It wasn't because it's November and it's cold, but because touching her tomb stone made me closer to her in a way. "I miss you, you know."
"Well, I missed you too," I heard a voice say. I froze and turned around. A person stood beside another stone about 5 feet away. I glanced up and saw her face. She was beautiful. Like nothing I've ever seen before. But then I realized something. I knew her. "Hi Damien. I missed you."
"Monique?" I asked. Her british accent was thick and I knew she had picked it up since she moved to England. I stood up and wandered over to her. "Is that you?"
"The one and only," she replied. "I see your accent is still as thick as ever even though you moved to Canada. I'm surprised you didn't lose your french at all."
"No, but I like yours," I told her. She smiled at me and stepped away from the tomb stone. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, I had come back for a visit but something happened," she said. My smile from my face faded and I stood still. "Something awful."
"Me too." I said.
"Really? I got into a mess and I killed someone..." she said. I was about to step toward her when I stopped. She killed someone? No, that's impossible. Not Monique. "It was about a year ago."
"My sister killed herself a year ago. I came to bring daisies to her grave. They were her favourite," I spoke. Monique glanced up at me and I saw something shine in her eyes. It was like she was about to cry, but then they disappeared as quickly as they appeared.
"After I killed her, someone killed me." She explained. Then I relaized that I was talking to a ghost. "Do you know who I killed Damien?" she taunted. I shook my head and I knew that something bad was going to happen. "Adrianna. Your little sister. I was jealous of her. Your 16 year old sister. So beautiful, so wonderful, so...close to you," she said. My mind started racing a million miles a minute. I could barely interperet anything anymore. My best friend killed...no, murdered my 16 year old sister out of jealousy.
"No!" I screamed. I started backing up and I saw that Monique was inching toward me. I was starting to panic and needed a way out fast! Her face seemed to change with each step she took. It started getting more and more like a zombie. Almost like the death of her was taking away her beautiful years and replacing them with rotting dead ones. "Who killed you?"
"Your best friend...Tristan! He loved your sister. He thought that she was the most wonderful person in the world. I took that from him and stole her from you too. Adrianna, the beautiful, smart, outgoing, friendly child," Monique said while getting angrier and angrier by the second. As I kept backing up I realized that I was running out of space. I was backing up right toward the ravine and that 50 foot drop would be an awful one.
"Why do you want me?" I asked.
"I want you to join me in the afterlife. I'm lonely." She said. "Besides, if you join me, you can give your life to your sister," she said. I stopped.
"I can give my life and bring back my sister?" I asked. Monique nodded. Then I stopped altogether and stepped toward her. "Take me then," I spoke. She smiled wickedly and reached out her hand. She pulled me closer by gripping my sweater and yanking me. I stumbled forward and felt her lips brush over my skin. She moaned slightly and bit down on my arm. I screamed and felt the life being sucked from my very soul. My memories began to float out of my mind as she continued drinking my soul. My vision began to blur and my body went limp. I collapsed to the ground and suddenly everything was bright again. I glanced down and saw my body laying lifeless on the ground. I looked up and saw that Monique was gone. "HEY!" I screamed. "I THOUGHT WE HAD A DEAL!"
"You were a fool to trust me. You thought that making a deal with me would make everything go away, but you just made things worse! I'm not releasing your sister. Not in a million years!" she screamed. I then began running through the graveyard. In between the tomb stones and along gravel paths. But she was gone. Gone for good. And so was I.

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Monster Within (By: Rebecca Moodie)

As the clock in Subway struck 11, Kathleen stood behind the cash register. She tapped her fingernails on the counter in boredom as the last customer finished his sandwich. Once he left she was free to close up and head home. He walked out the door and she went to lock it. She could go out the back door. She turned her key in the lock and heard it click. She turned to go to the back to finish cleaning up when someone knocked on the door. She turned back and saw a man standing there wearing a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled up.
"I'm sorry, we're closed." Kathleen called through the door. But he knocked again and she repeated herself. "I'm sorry sir, but we're closed for the night." She spun on her heels and started toward the back. She went behind the counter and locked the cash register. She glanced back at the door and saw that he wasn't there. Odd, she thought. Her phone rang and she took out of the front drawer.
"Hey, what's up?" Her friend Olivia said through the phone. Kathleen sighed and locked every other drawer.
"Hey, I'm getting out of here soon. Just closing up," she told her. Kathleen hung up the phone and continued cleaning. She wandered into the back and put the remaining food either in the garbage or the fridge. She then walked into the locker room and opened her locker. Her phone buzzed and she read the message.

SO EXCITED FOR THE PARTY!!!

Kathleen smiled to herself and slipped the phone into her pocket. As she did so she heard a loud bang. Kathleen jumped and fumbled her phone. She caught it quickly and threw it in her locker. She glanced around the corner and didn't see anything. So she grabbed her things from her locker and locked it. She wandered back out to the main lobby of Subway and saw that the door was open. Kathleen stopped and stared at the wide open door. Her heart pounded in her chest and she breathed heavily. I thought I locked that door, she thought to herself. However, she remembered locking it and telling the man to leave. The man...maybe he did this, Kathleen thought. But she shook her head and thought against it. To break that lock you've got to be either a body builder or throw something through the window, neither happened so what happened? Kathleen thought to herself but nothing came to her.
"Hello Kathleen," a voice spoke. She spun around and the man stood there. "It's nice to see you again."
"Who are you?" she asked him. But he didn't answer her. She waited for him to respond but he never did. "I asked you a question,” she continued.
"It doesn't matter who I am. But it matters who you are." He told her. She was confused. "Let's just say I'm your worst nightmare." Kathleen wasn't sure what to do – whether to run or fight back.
"How are you my worst nightmare? I don't even know you!" she screamed. Just as she said that, he took his hood off and the most revolting thing stood in front of her. A mangled face and blood stained hair. She screamed and tumbled backwards. She fell to the floor and he started towards her. She backed up and scrambled across the floor away from him.
"Remember me Kathleen?" he shouted at her. She slammed her eyes shut, hoping that it was all a bad dream and the he would be gone when she opened her eyes. But when she opened her eyes, he still stood over her like a shadow looming over its victim. "Remember me?" he shouted again.
"No!" Kathleen screamed. He grabbed her sweater that she had on and lifted her up off the floor. He set her on a table in front of him and grasped the sweater in his other hand as well. "If I remembered you I wouldn't be asking who you are!" She screamed.
"It's me, Graeme. The one you left behind." He spat in her face. Kathleen froze and stared at him.
"Graeme? I thought you were-"
"Dead? I am, because of you and your drunk driving you idiot!" he yelled. Being a coward she wished he was gone. "I can't believe that you're afraid of me. You were willing enough to put me in the passenger seat knowing you were drunk. So what do you do? You wrap the car around a tree and you live god damn it!"
"How was I supposed to know you were going to die? I didn't even know what was going on!" She shouted at him. "Trust me, if I could have saved you, I would have." But he wasn't buying it.
"I'm going to make you suffer for what you did to me." He said. He pulled back his sweatshirt and revealed a knife. Kathleen tried to move but his grip was too strong. She squirmed and wriggled around, but it was no use. She was stuck there and he was going to kill her.
"Why are you making me suffer for something that's not my fault?" she screamed at him. But he didn't stop to listen to her. He slowly moved the blade closer to her skin until it punctured the surface and spilled a drop of blood. She screamed in pain and tried to push him away, but it was almost like he was attached to her. He made a long cut down her arm and dropped the knife on the floor. He then brought her arm to his mouth. "Are you a vampire?" she asked.
"No, a zombie. I'm sucking the life out of you for myself," he told her. That's when she truly began panicking. Graeme was going to take her life in order to satisfy his own conscious. He took her life until there was nothing left but skin and bones. He dropped her and stared down at her lifeless body. He walked out of the Subway, never to return.

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There’s Always Hope for Love (By: Leanna Rose Jimenez)

He was perfect, strong, polite, chiseled, and handsome. His hands were gentle as he ran his fingers through her hair. He stared at her with a grateful look in his eyes as he watched her. He would protect her from anyone who tried to hurt her, and when he spoke the worlds “I love you,” he said it with great meaning. You could tell that he would never hurt her, that he would treat her the way she deserved to be treated. He showed me that I should never give up on love, that there is always someone out there, and he showed me this by loving my mother.

My father left us when I was only a little girl. He just got up one day, left, and we never heard from him again. From that moment on it was just my mother and me. We were a team, always looking out for each other, she was my best friend and I was hers. But you could still see the pain in her eyes. Even after years after my father left she was still hurting, and it pained me to see her like that.

Then when she decided to start dating again she would always meet some guy, who in the end would end up hurting her, just as my father did. I would always be there to wipe away her tears and I became bitter toward anyone she was seeing. I only wanted to stop this pain, and I thought for so long that all guys were the same, that they would treat you like the only girl, for the time being, then break your heart and leave.

Then when she met him I thought that was how it would be again, just like all the others, and at one point it seemed that to. They fought one night, my mother cried, he stormed out and I thought that was the end of him. But then the very next day, he came back, apologized, and begged her to take him back. And now I know that he’s here to stay for good, because today is their wedding day. And as they say their ‘I do’s’ I know they mean every word, and I realize that you should never give up on love, for there is always hope.

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