Third-place Story for 2006

The Curse

By Savannah C., Lydiksen Elementary School, Pleasanton

Prologue

Eleanor lived in a huge Victorian mansion, which was absolutely deserted on the night of October 30, 1972. Eleanor’s mother and father were working late, and her little sister, Abby, was at a sleepover at a friend’s house. Eleanor was completely and utterly alone… ____________________________________________

One dark and stormy night, near 12:00 a.m., Eleanor Rogers heard a strange noise as she closed her book. She listened closely, and goose bumps crawled up her arms when she heard it again. “It” was a soft moaning noise, almost like a wolf’s howl. It seemed to be coming from somewhere in the mansion, but Eleanor was the only one home.

Shivering, Eleanor turned back to her book when she screamed.

The book was gone. In its place was a bone—white and hard. Gathering her courage, Eleanor reached towards the bone, but as soon as she touched it, the bone crumbled and disappeared. Though she felt petrified, Eleanor decided to go downstairs to investigate the sound. As she climbed down the stairs she noticed that the crystal chandelier had a rope hanging from it. The rope was covered in something red—was it blood? No, thought Eleanor, I’m being stupid. That rope is probably left over from a piñata or some—

“AAAAAAAAUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHH!”

Suddenly, out of nowhere appeared the most gruesome woman—if you could call her that. This “woman” had long, black hair and pale skin—wait a minute, thought Eleanor, she’s transparent! The woman also had large, golden eyes, and wore a dress spattered with—was Eleanor mistaken? —Blood!

The woman let out a low moan, and Eleanor recognized it as the one she had heard earlier. Taking a deep breath, Eleanor spoke to the woman.

“How did you get here?”

Hoarsely, the woman replied, “Every Halloween, spirits are free to roam their dying place. This was where I died. In the year 1622, I took a rope and hung myself, right in this very room”

Eleanor felt her blood run cold. “But why?” she questioned the woman.

“I was mourning the loss of my daughter. She died of scarlet fever, and I was so close to her, my loss was so great, that I simply wanted my life to be over. Beware, child. This house is cursed!” With that she let out a piercing shriek and vanished.

Eleanor was definitely frightened now. What was that supposed to be? Is this house really cursed? Questions flooded Eleanor’s mind, but she pushed them away and kept going down the stairs. She had to be having an illusion. Since when do ghosts rise from the dead? What Eleanor needed was a drink of water and some sleep. Things would be back to normal in the morning.

As Eleanor headed into the kitchen, she noticed something. The blue sofa in the living room wasn’t blue anymore—it was red! Wait a sec—that’s not fabric, it’s fire!

Eleanor knew that the only way to stop it was by using water, but the fire now blocked the sink and any other form of liquid. How would Eleanor be able to--?

“ELEANOR!!!!”

Eleanor spun around and discovered Abby and her parents standing at the front door, sweaty-faced from the fire and looking terrified. “Mom! Dad! Abby! HELP MEEEEEE!”

Eleanor’s family worked fast and was able to free Eleanor from the flames just in time. They headed outside to escape, and Eleanor caught a glimpse of the fiery kitchen, full of smoke and red-hot flames.

“What are we going to do about this fire?” Eleanor’s mom asked, her voice full of panic.

“It’s not a fire, it’s a curse!” cried Eleanor. Suddenly she remembered a passage in hr book, A Spooky Guide to Magic. It had said, to back up any kind of magic, concentrate intently on its opposite.

“Quick! What’s the opposite of curses?” yelled Eleanor.

“Honey, I don’t think this is going to work,” Eleanor’s mom cried.

Eleanor didn’t care what her mother thought. Okay, well, curses are bad magic, so we have to think of good magic. She prayed and focused on spells and wands and magic, all good, and hoped her house wasn’t going to burn down, and that she wouldn’t either. Don’t let our house be burned down, she thought, we don’t deserve it. We’re all GOOD people, and I don’t want to be killed. Help us, someone.

PleasepleasepleasepleasePLEASE…

With help from her family, Eleanor pleaded and pleaded, until she couldn’t feel anything, until she couldn’t see anything, until she couldn’t even sense her own thoughts. But then a voice inside her head said to open her eyes, and it was so forceful that her eyes snapped open. She was amazed at what she saw—over one thousand pearly white spirits were drifting towards the sky, all emitting shrieks of happiness as they faded into the great beyond.

Suddenly, it was all gone--the fire, the spirits, even Eleanor’s family. She was sitting in the same old armchair, in the same old room, in the same old house, at the same old time—12:00 a.m. EXACTLY.

She knew she hadn’t dreamed it. This was simply part of the curse, and unexplainable part. Eleanor smiled, and finally, finally, finally got back to her book.

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