Portfolio of my Knowledge... » short story

Little Apples

Fany Savina — Tue, 25 Oct 2011 16:13:35 +0000

There was once a family, quite a happy family. There was a mother, father, and two daughters named Mary and Sarah. It was the summer, and the parents decided to go on a night out. At the same time, the two daughters wanted to have their best friends sleep over. Mary, nine, wanted her best friend Jane, who was eight. Sarah, eleven, wanted her best friend Emily over, who was also eleven. It was decided that the parents would go to eat dinner in the restaurant right across the road, and that the two friends would stay over on that same night. The parents sat next to the window and both had a very clear view of the house. Soon, it became dark, as summer was nearing an end, and the days were already getting shorter. The girls were having fun all together, putting on make-up and playing fancy-dress. Then, the phone rang, and none of the girls wanted to go downstairs to get it, so they all ganged up on little Jane, who was forced, as the youngest, to comply. She got to the phone and picked up, but all she could hear was static. As young and innocent as she was, she didn’t sense something was wrong straight away. She stayed on the phone listening... listening... only someone breathing could be heard. Then, a voice said to the little girl:
“Four little apples, hanging in the tree, take one down and then there were three...”
Jane didn’t understand, but she knew she was very scared. Back upstairs, the other girls were talking, when Mary expressed her concern for her best friend. It had been a good five minutes since she had gone to take the call. While the two eldest made up logical excuses for little Jane’s whereabouts, the phone rang again. Sarah and Emily didn’t have to gang up on Mary, as Mary went willingly enough, mostly to find her friend. Even so, she answered before looking for Jane, although all she heard was breathing.
“Three little apples, hanging in the tree, take one down and then there were two...”
Sarah and Emily were using the absence of the younger ones to talk about boys. When the phone rang again, both shouted down to Jane and Mary to answer it, but the phone just kept on ringing. Emily became so sick of the ringing that she flew downstairs and tore the phone off the hook. Only breathing could be heard. Emily didn’t silently listen to the breathing, instead, she spoke into the phone:
“Don’t you morons have anything better to do than prank calls?!” but just before she could hang up, she heard a voice. She was so surprised that she listened to what the voice was saying.
“Two little apples, hanging in the tree, take one down, and then there was one...”
Sarah was on the verge of panicking now, she hadn’t seen Jane in fifteen minutes, her little sister in ten, and Emily in five. She looked all over the house, begging them to stop the joke because it wasn’t funny anymore. She threatened to call her parents, and while she was reaching for the phone to do just that, the phone started ringing under her hand. She picked up the receiver, the phone shaking uncontrollably in her hand.
“One little apple, hanging in the tree, take one down, and then there... were... none.”

Some time later, the parents came home, and as they walked up to their house, they noticed shadows in the big tree in front of their house. They thought the raccoons were back, and planned to call animal control. It was only once they were inside that they noticed something was wrong. All four children were missing. They ran outside for no discernible reason, probably to look for the children. Then they saw it, four bodies hanging by ropes from their large tree in the front yard. The children were hardly recognisable with the bite marks they had on their naked bodies. The last thing that passed through the mother’s mind before she fainted, was how much the children resembled apple cores.
Four little apples, hanging in the tree, take four down, and then there were... none.

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24 Nutgrove Street

Fany Savina — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 11:04:44 +0000

24 Nutgrove Street was an address known by every child and teenager in Oakland Valley town. It was mentioned at least once in every household at Halloween. Its door was touched countless times on countless dares. 24 Nutgrove Street was the address to Oakland Valley's very own haunted house.
It was a very pitiful looking building. Its peeling walls were faded and discolored. The front porch was crooked and full of holes. Almost every window was either broken or missing. It smelled and looked stale, its garden overgrown with weeds of every sort. It had a sort of shabby yet sinister look about it. Rumor was that the family who lived in it were all murdered and their souls were forced to stay there until their murderer was unveiled. And I was about to enter it.

In my opinion that was all hocus pocus. I didn't believe in monsters, ghosts or aliens. My mind was purely rational, or so I liked to think. Then why did I feel a shiver run down my spine? My hairs standing up. It was just an old, broken, creepy house.

It all started with a dare.
It was a bright yet shabby looking morning with a pale blue spring sky and light grey clouds dotted around. I had tried the usuals "I don't feel well today, I think I can't go to school." but my parents never fell for any of it. I grudgingly got prepared and waited for the school bus. It had started raining by the time the bus came and I was glad to be able to sit in a warm place, even if the seats were hard and cold and covered with chewing gum.
I quickly looked around the half-full bus and found the face I was looking for. I trudged along and almost forgot to watch out for any feet that were just waiting to trip me. The class tricksters did it to everyone just in case they weren't paying attention. I slumped into the seat next to my best friend and sighed. This was going to be a hard and long day. Jenni, my best friend, looked over at me and said: "What's wrong? Today is pizza day. For once that we don't have tuna casserole from the cafeteria!" I stared at her round, freckled face was suddenly hit by the differences we had. She was enthusiastic, smart, pretty and had slightly curly blondish-orangery hair that she let loose around her shoulders. Her bright blue eyes contrasted with her rosy skin. I was the completely opposite. I was small, pessimistic, and dark-haired. My soft grey eyes were exceedingly pale next to my dark brown almost black hair. My skin never tanned, I had not a single freckle, and I was always deathly pale.

The bus stopped and we all got out in slow-motion. Shuffling our feet at every inch of space we got from the person in front. At last out of the bus, Jenni and I made our way to our lockers but we were interrupted by the school bully and his sidekicks.
The school bully was big. Very big. Most people weren't sure if it was because of his muscles or because of his fat. (Most girls thought it was because of the fat.) His sidekicks were the Brotherin Twins, renowned for the reputation of extreme stupidness and a taste for violence. Henry Jr. was the school bully's name but he changed it to "The Skull" for reputation purposes.
"Well, well, well, if it ain't Jenni and Emma." Skull sniggered. I just looked blankly at him in fear, but Jenni wasn't about to be knocked around by some stupid boy who's only way of communicating was with his fists. "Wow, Henry Jr." She put a emphasis on the Junior part. Skull had made it pretty clear to most of the first years that he hated that name and never wanted to be called that again. "Over eight words in one whole sentence, I'm impressed!" She let out a bell-like giggle as we saw the expressions on his face change. At first it was a frowning aggressive bully face, which quickly changed to confusion and then exasperation at not understanding. Then the dawning of understanding slowly crept across his face which just as soon turned red with anger. He jabbed his fat, stubby finger at her and said: "Oh yeah? Well, you ain't so great either Tinkerbell!" Tinkerbell was Jenni's nickname. She didn't really like it. It made her sound like a girly girl. She frowned. Skull looked satisfied and continued.
"I bet you couldn't even touch 24 Nutgove's door!!" My eyes widened almost in synchronization with Jenni's. She fired back at him with such aggressiveness that even I never knew she could stir up and unleash. "I could so! I could even stay in it for fifteen minutes!" She was glaring down at him and Skull had to be on tippy-toes to be at eye level with her. He answered back: "You couldn't stay in it for an hour!" . "Is that a bet?!" Jenni's usual soft blue eyes had turned an icy blue yet they sparkled and almost seemed fiery. All I could do was stare between the two of them.

Let me skip ahead in my story. You probably know that by now Jenni had agreed to stay in the haunted house for a full hour, and just to prove her point, she said she would go at night. Of course Skull didn't believe her to be able to do it, but they had agreed the time and date.
It was taking place that night at 10 o'clock. The worst part was that I had been brought in to all this as well. I had to stay in the house for an hour as well as with Jenni, courtesy of Jim, one of the Brotherin Twins. He had asked me to marry him in Montessori but I had called him fat and stupid and I would only marry a white prince. I guess I hurt his feelings and this was his revenge.
The school day went past in a blur and before I knew it I was finished my homework and was going to bed. I got ready in my jeans and a hoody, it was cold outside. And I had no doubt I would be shivering for the whole hour, mostly out of fear, but I could never admit that. I slipped out of my window and climbed down the big oak that leaned against the side of our house. It was very useful for getaways. I stalked my way up to that terribly famous house. Jenni was already there. And she was prepared. She was wrapped up in a coat and scarf and had a torch in her hand. "Where's your torch?" She stared at my empty hand. I looked sheepishly back at her and answered: "You never told me to bring one." She just rolled her eyes and muttered we would share the one torch. Skull was in a dark corner not quite wide enough to hide him in its shadows. He held a timer in his hand. He nodded us forward and pressed a button on the stop watch with a gleeful smile sketched onto his face.

We entered into the haunted house.
If it looked and smelled stale on the outside, then the inside was worse. The first thing that hit me was not the great big spider web in the doorway with lots of insect corpses drained of blood on it but the moldy, dusty, stale, humid air. I wasn't sure if it could be called air at all. I shivered at the gloomy aspect and was frightened of the moving shadows on the peeling walls made by Jenni's torch. I looked out for her but I soon realised she was already exploring the nearest room. Light shimmered out of the nearest doorway. I inched forward whispering her name. The room was bare apart from a large one seater sofa and a very large painting of a woman hung up over an even larger black ornament fireplace. Jenni was examining the portrait of the woman with great curiosity. I looked at the sofa and gave a little shriek of horror which made Jenni jump and turn around to place the beam of light onto what had scared me. Only she was a fraction to late. All she could see was a tail swish out of view and the pitter patter of little feet climbing the walls. We both stood still until the eerie silence came back and disturbed us. I trailed behind Jenni who wanted to see what the kitchen was like. I stared all around me except at the floor in case I saw another rat. But this was a mistake.
My foot caught in with the debris and I tripped head first. I got up slowly, my head turning. Jenni paid no attention. She was too caught up in her world of discovery. Suddenly, a shadow flitted past me and appeared in the corner of my eye. My head still dizzy from the fall automatically turned to where the shadow had appeared. Nothing was there apart from a pile of irregular wood. That was when I noticed that it was very dark. I called out to Jenni but no answer came. I saw no light coming from anywhere. I closed my eyes. There was scarcely a difference in the level of darkness between my eyes and the room.

I felt my way around in the darkness in the general direction of the kitchen. I felt a doorway and stepped through. My eyes were slowly adjusting to the deep darkness that consumed me. There was a creak coming from behind. "Jenni? Jenni are you there? It's not funny. Please stop!" My voice practically whimpered.
Another creak. The soft yet obvious sound of one's person shifting their weight. I felt cool breath on the back of my neck. I couldn't move, I couldn't speak. Every thing was silent apart from my beating heart and the slow even breathing of the unknown behind me.
I could hear the air shifting as something moved. I filled my lungs up with the stale moldy air. A cool scaly, dry finger brushed against the skin of my neck.
That was when I screamed.
I screamed and slapped the hand away when suddenly a brilliant cold light shone through. The clear harsh voice of someone who is extemely bored yet enjoys his work echoed out onto the set.
"Cut!!"
I ruffled up my hair and said to my manager,
"I'll be in my trailer if you need me."
And I walked out of the busy scene of cleaning up to go and refresh myself before shooting the next scene.

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The Time I Was Lucky…

Fany Savina — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 18:24:48 +0000

The time I was lucky. I remember that day.
It was in spring. The birds were singing, the buds blooming, a cheerful yet dew-wet scene. The sky was blue and sprinkled with big white tufts. Anyone in their right minds would wake up, pull back the curtains and be filled with joy from the spectacular view. It was the first day of spring. The ending of the cold, snowy, famine-prone winter. I should have woken up and rejoiced at the coming of the warmer period of the year. I usually did. I never really liked the cold wetness of winter. But I wasn't happy.
It was my calculus test day. It had been marked on my calendar for a month, and every day had droned past, my consciousness growing with a greater dread as every minute passed.
I hated calculus. No, worse, I loathed it. Especially in test format.
I slowly dressed while in a drowsy, half-dazed coma. I brushed my teeth out of habit and finally entered the car that would lead me straight into the fiery pits of evil.
The other subjects passed by in a blur. I didn't eat during lunch. I just stared at the clock mounted on the wall, watching those precious seconds tick away ever so fast. Although no words could describe the dread that raked through my body, causing me physical pain, I shall try my best to describe this as accurately as possible.
As I made my way down the corridor towards my calculus class, my steps echoed inside my head, the murmur of my fellow students droned out by my beating heart trying to break free of its tight cage.
The world seemed to stop. Everything happened in slow motion. The door leading into the torture chamber of my life loomed forward, waiting to engulf me and my pitiful soul. Awaiting to send me straight to depths of hell. I stepped through the doorway and prepared for my destiny of pain. A grim reaper dressed in disguise as a substitute teacher waited until we were securely shackled to seats before saying:
"Your teacher has had an accident. I'm afraid she is in the hospital. She may not be coming back to teach you for some time. Due to the unexpectedness of this event, you will have a free class today while we try to sort this out." He then said the words that freed me from my dreaded state, "Your test is cancelled." His words echoed in my head.
You couldn't even begin to imagine the relief and light-headedness I felt. Happiness came tumbling down into my soul, along with a single thought; "I am lucky."

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