Under the Rug
By: Remington Froncek
1-29-2013
There once
was an old man named Henry. Henry was a normal old man who worked at a carpet
company. Then one day he decided to replace the carpet in his home. Little did
he know what he brought into his house with the new carpet. After the carpet
was finished, he went to bed, and then he heard . . . BANG! CRASH! BOOM! He
rushed down stairs to see what it was.
He heard it again in the other room, BANG! CRASH! BOOM! He ran to the
other room and nothing was there, so he finally went back to bed. The next day he didn’t have to work, so he
went to the library. He was on the
computer trying to find information about what he had heard the night
before. He found out that he had
acquired the Ruggy-Buggy, with his ancient carpet from Persia. He found that the only way to get rid of the
Ruggy-Buggy was to leave a trail of Cheeze-its on the ground, leading to a bowl
of milk. So, he waited and waited. Two weeks passed and it happened again. The Cheeze-its were gone. The milk was
gone. There was a loud screech and a
black figure opened the door and nobody ever saw or heard from the Ruggy-Buggy again. Henry lived the rest of his life
happy and normal.
The Harp
By: Patrick Peterson
1-29-2013
So it’s true, he thought, it’s really true, “it’s
true!!!!” They all screamed in fright
and fear. “It’s really true” said the
man. “What’s true?” said the boy.
“It’s true that the harp down at the lake is playing its
self.”
The boy and the man go to the lake to this scary, yet
amazing scene. “Could it be a ghost?”
they said together. “No, no, it can’t
be,” they said.
The harp moved, there was a voice, the man and the boy were
completely silent. There was a distant
voice speaking. The voice said to them,
“it is me the ghost, playing the harp.”
“Who are you?”
Shouted the boy.
“I was Edward Fidley.
I was the best musician in the world,” said Edward.
“What happened?” said the man.
“One night, after my concert, I was murdered. So, now I’m here playing away my sorrows,”
said the ghost.
The Man stepped up . . . “what is your last name again?”
“Fidley,” replied Edward.
“And where are you from?”
“Here,” said Edward. “My wife lives here still, in
downtown. Her name is Susan.”
The man looked shocked.
Staring at Edward, words finally came to the boy . . .
“Nice to meet you, Dad.”
Mr. Linden's Library
By: Celine Pandosy
1-29-2013
This is like any other day, I work at my deceased uncle’s
library, I get lunch, go home, and do whatever.
Yet, this day was odd. As I
looked around in my uncle’s storage for old books, I came across a white book
with gold patterns. I picked it up and
looked at it . . . Blank Pages . . . I thought that maybe it was a scrapbook,
so I put it on the shelves in the library.
Nobody seemed interested in it. I
went home after my job was done.
Now my grandma was a superstitious woman. When I told her about the book, she
freaked! “Don’t let anyone get that
book!” and then she left. . .
How funny she said this, because a girl of about my age
walked into the little library and immediately found interest in the book. I looked at the book nervously. “Are you sure you want the book?” The girl nodded, “Positive!” I slowly gave her the book and she took
it. “Just be very care . . .” and then
she was gone. I hope she is okay.
_ _
_ _ _
So, now it’s been three days since the accident took place .
. . oh right . . . I didn’t tell you. It
was said that that girl was found tangled in some poisonous vine or plant – and
the book . . . well, it was there too. I
warned her about the book, now it’s too late.
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