Post by Mickey on Nov 1, 2006 9:23:28 GMT -5
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“It’s supposed to be the most haunted house in the state!”
“Who do you suppose would dare move in there?”
The whispers had started a few weeks ago when the news got out that the old Gibbs house was being sold to a new, creepy lady. No one knew who could be so stupid to move into the broken old house on a hill, with an unkempt, overgrown lawn, and why someone would move in on Halloween was too suspicious for words.
The tales about the house, and its new occupant had been flying like wild fire around the neighborhood, and when it reached the ears of two sisters, Rachel and Abby Palmer, they immediately hopped on their bikes and started up the way towards the hill.
“I dunno. Maybe a relative of the departed Mr. Hargreaves?” Abby replied to her sister’s question.
The whole town knew the story of Mr. Hargreaves, he’d come home one day to find his wife had left him. In a fit of rage he’d killed his maid. Later that evening, he was found with his throat slit, and a bloody message on the mirror that read, “She will be avenged…” Abby had always been fascinated by their towns own little ghost story. She’d been anxious to get a story for the school paper on this development in the house, and had been brainstorming all the way there, while there bikes wheeled along.
“Maybe someone was caught using clever artifices and such, and they are hiding from the law!” Rachel, who was a year younger, grew very excited at this prospect, nearly tumbling into the fallow fields they were now biking by.
Abby smiled in appreciation as they began to slow down, but her smile quickly turned to a grimace, for there, standing twenty feet from the house, was her adversary, Jessica Puckle, who was a talented journalist, but not as gift as herself. She groaned to Rachel, who merely waved amicably to Jessica’s brother, Jason, whom she’d had a crush on since seventh grade.
“Hello Jess.” Abby said shortly, allowing herself a meticulous look at the guise Jessica wore. She was dressed up in a witches robe, with a large crown on her head, and glasses that resembled a spies.
“What are you wearing?” Rachel asked Jessica in confusement, scratching her head, scrutinizing the outfit with a look.
“Well, as your sister knows, investigative journalism involves disguises sometimes. Or does she not know that? Well, of course not, for it was a mistake that Ms. Adapple chose her to be editor over me!” Jessica gibed at the pair of them, who was standing near the house with their arms crossed.
“Investigative Journalism?” Abby said, her eyebrow flexing as she gave a cursory look at the house.
“Fine.” She continued, though all four of them felt a chill in the air as a brisk wind fluttered through setting all of the chimes that now adorned the porch off. “In the interest of investigative journalism, I bet you twenty dollars that I can stay in that house and get the story before you can.” Abby concluded.
Jessica turned a wary eye to the house before saying, “Deal.”
Rachel, who had been trying to catch the urbane Jason’s eye, gazed up at her sister gaping.
“You can’t be serious Ab!” She said in a tone of utter amazement.
“Serious as a heart attack.”
“Serious as a zit on school picture day.” Jessica amended Abby’s phrase.
The stolid Jason reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp twenty, and indicated that they should shake.
Abby’s hand gently gripped Jessica’s, and they stood for a few moments trying to wrestle it out in the grip, before release. She dropped her hand back to her side and warily began to approach the house. Jessica, not to be deterred, pushed past her and walked into the house.
Abby groaned, and followed her in before Rachel could say another word.
Rachel stood there, annoyed that she had allowed her sister to be coerced into entering a house with such a dark past, especially as she could see clouds gathering in the distance. Both literally, and figuratively.
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It was cold and dark inside the house. Hardly any light did not penetrate the impervious blackness, nor did it make a damper on the lack of heat. The whole house creaked around them, and there was no sign of the new occupant.
Jessica was walking very slowly, and it was driving Abby mad, but she was more intrigued as to the amount of cobwebs on the place, and the thick level of dust.
“Where is the occupant?” Jessica’s voice came as they creaked towards the stairs.
Abby said nothing, for she was not sure where she would be, and wasn’t looking forward to finding out. The house smelled like death to her, and there was a gloom hanging over all. The storm clouds that had gathered outside were now producing a light drizzle that was producing an inclement aura around the house, which already was dark and mysterious.
Jessica stood at the bottom step, looking as though she was nerving herself to do something, before she turned around and slapped Abby across the face.
“What was that for?” Abby said, looking around her.
“For stealing my position!” Jessica replied, dropping her hand, and looking as though a great change had come over her since they had entered the house.
A large red weal appeared on Abby’s face, she turned and punched Jessica in the gut. She doubled over, and Abby’s face began to sting so terribly that tears were prickling her eyes.
There was a loud crack of lightening and the door behind them slammed open.
Jessica screamed, and as craven as she was, ran like a belligerent maniac out of the room, and out the front door.
Abby backed up slightly, but was too close to knowing the answers to all her questions, and probably the biggest story of her life.
She stepped forwards to the silhouette in the doorway, and out stepped…
A tiny lil’ old lady, with curlers and tin foil in her hair.
“Who are you?” They blurted out at the same time.
“I own this house.” The woman said with an air of majestic. “My name is Ms. Marpelmous. I apologize for the mess, and darkness, I haven’t gotten finished with the finishing touches, I moved in today.”
“Ms. Marpelmous? The great author?” Abby replied in shock, amazed at the sudden luck the town had had.
“Yes. I came here to clear my head, research a story, and indulge in my hobby.” Ms. Marpelmous responded with an air of mystique, gesturing into the room she had moved out of.
Suddenly, the whole house seemed a lot brighter, and Abby felt as though it were Christmas, not Halloween. It made perfect sense the murder mystery queen would come to a haunted house for research. She smiled at Ms. Marpelmous, amazed that she was actually in her presence, the British author who had written the most fantastic murder mysteries, like “Ten Little Indians” and “Murder on the Indian Concord”!
“I have so many questions to ask you, Ms. Marplemous! I’m a journalist.” Abby finally said.
“Ah, the press. Well, we may set up an interview later. First…” and she beckoned to the room behind her, before setting off into it. Abby stood still for a minute, and then decided to follow her.
The room she entered was much brighter, and filled with a colorful haze, pouring out of what looked like mini cauldrons. Tin foil littered the floor.
“Ms. Marplemous? What exactly is your hobby that you indulge in?” Abby mused out loud.
“Sit down.” Ms. Marplemous replied, as another crack of lightening burst outside, and the rooms fires died down sincerely, or so it seemed to Abby, who was suddenly panicked, but could do nothing but sit in a tall black spin chair, and lay her head back in the bin that was set up.
Ms. Marplemous slowly headed towards her head with a large pair a scissors, and Abby shut her eyes tight, her mind racing, and thinking about the most dramatic music she had ever heard.
The storm crashed overhead, and lightning forked over the sky.
And that was how Abby Palmer gained a friendship with acclaimed author Ms. Marplemous, twenty dollars, and the best blonde highlights and trim she’d ever had!!!
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A/N: Happy Halloween! I had to write this for English, you'll most likely note the vocabulary usuage is like totally random high level words
, and I thought it would be cool to share it with you guys.
If you have read Agatha Christie, don't read under the stars, and tell me what joke/ plays on her I made/did
************************
Since I don't think any of you have ever read Agatha Christie, I'll share the jokes with you. Agatha Christie is "an acclaimed murder mystery queen", and her detectives name was "Ms. Marple" who was a little ol' British lady. She wrote "And then there were None" Which is based on the poem "Ten Little Sailor Boys" which is adaptation from "Ten Little Indians" and she wrote "Murder on the Oriental Express". So Ms. Marple became "Ms. Marpelmous.", And then there were none became "Ten little Indians" and Murder on the Oriental Express became "Murder on the Indian Concord".
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Abby Palmer is Abi and my cousins last name Palmer. Her sister was supposed to be like Rachel from friends. Jennifer Puckle held a double reason. My cousins name is Jenny Palmer, and Puckle was the original name of Hermione (Hermione Puckle). I liked the name because it showed courage. I just made it false courage in this case. Hehe. She has a lot "pluck". Hehe. My mom laughed out loud at the name. Mr. Hargreaves, is Hard Greaves, or "grevious" depending on how you want to look at it. The whole maid thing was another Agatha Christie thing. In regard to the ending, it was cause I had gotten my hair colored that day, lol.
Happy Halloween!!! Please leave a review in this thread, and I will lock it afterwards, deleting off topic things. <3.
“It’s supposed to be the most haunted house in the state!”
“Who do you suppose would dare move in there?”
The whispers had started a few weeks ago when the news got out that the old Gibbs house was being sold to a new, creepy lady. No one knew who could be so stupid to move into the broken old house on a hill, with an unkempt, overgrown lawn, and why someone would move in on Halloween was too suspicious for words.
The tales about the house, and its new occupant had been flying like wild fire around the neighborhood, and when it reached the ears of two sisters, Rachel and Abby Palmer, they immediately hopped on their bikes and started up the way towards the hill.
“I dunno. Maybe a relative of the departed Mr. Hargreaves?” Abby replied to her sister’s question.
The whole town knew the story of Mr. Hargreaves, he’d come home one day to find his wife had left him. In a fit of rage he’d killed his maid. Later that evening, he was found with his throat slit, and a bloody message on the mirror that read, “She will be avenged…” Abby had always been fascinated by their towns own little ghost story. She’d been anxious to get a story for the school paper on this development in the house, and had been brainstorming all the way there, while there bikes wheeled along.
“Maybe someone was caught using clever artifices and such, and they are hiding from the law!” Rachel, who was a year younger, grew very excited at this prospect, nearly tumbling into the fallow fields they were now biking by.
Abby smiled in appreciation as they began to slow down, but her smile quickly turned to a grimace, for there, standing twenty feet from the house, was her adversary, Jessica Puckle, who was a talented journalist, but not as gift as herself. She groaned to Rachel, who merely waved amicably to Jessica’s brother, Jason, whom she’d had a crush on since seventh grade.
“Hello Jess.” Abby said shortly, allowing herself a meticulous look at the guise Jessica wore. She was dressed up in a witches robe, with a large crown on her head, and glasses that resembled a spies.
“What are you wearing?” Rachel asked Jessica in confusement, scratching her head, scrutinizing the outfit with a look.
“Well, as your sister knows, investigative journalism involves disguises sometimes. Or does she not know that? Well, of course not, for it was a mistake that Ms. Adapple chose her to be editor over me!” Jessica gibed at the pair of them, who was standing near the house with their arms crossed.
“Investigative Journalism?” Abby said, her eyebrow flexing as she gave a cursory look at the house.
“Fine.” She continued, though all four of them felt a chill in the air as a brisk wind fluttered through setting all of the chimes that now adorned the porch off. “In the interest of investigative journalism, I bet you twenty dollars that I can stay in that house and get the story before you can.” Abby concluded.
Jessica turned a wary eye to the house before saying, “Deal.”
Rachel, who had been trying to catch the urbane Jason’s eye, gazed up at her sister gaping.
“You can’t be serious Ab!” She said in a tone of utter amazement.
“Serious as a heart attack.”
“Serious as a zit on school picture day.” Jessica amended Abby’s phrase.
The stolid Jason reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp twenty, and indicated that they should shake.
Abby’s hand gently gripped Jessica’s, and they stood for a few moments trying to wrestle it out in the grip, before release. She dropped her hand back to her side and warily began to approach the house. Jessica, not to be deterred, pushed past her and walked into the house.
Abby groaned, and followed her in before Rachel could say another word.
Rachel stood there, annoyed that she had allowed her sister to be coerced into entering a house with such a dark past, especially as she could see clouds gathering in the distance. Both literally, and figuratively.
+~+~+~++~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+
It was cold and dark inside the house. Hardly any light did not penetrate the impervious blackness, nor did it make a damper on the lack of heat. The whole house creaked around them, and there was no sign of the new occupant.
Jessica was walking very slowly, and it was driving Abby mad, but she was more intrigued as to the amount of cobwebs on the place, and the thick level of dust.
“Where is the occupant?” Jessica’s voice came as they creaked towards the stairs.
Abby said nothing, for she was not sure where she would be, and wasn’t looking forward to finding out. The house smelled like death to her, and there was a gloom hanging over all. The storm clouds that had gathered outside were now producing a light drizzle that was producing an inclement aura around the house, which already was dark and mysterious.
Jessica stood at the bottom step, looking as though she was nerving herself to do something, before she turned around and slapped Abby across the face.
“What was that for?” Abby said, looking around her.
“For stealing my position!” Jessica replied, dropping her hand, and looking as though a great change had come over her since they had entered the house.
A large red weal appeared on Abby’s face, she turned and punched Jessica in the gut. She doubled over, and Abby’s face began to sting so terribly that tears were prickling her eyes.
There was a loud crack of lightening and the door behind them slammed open.
Jessica screamed, and as craven as she was, ran like a belligerent maniac out of the room, and out the front door.
Abby backed up slightly, but was too close to knowing the answers to all her questions, and probably the biggest story of her life.
She stepped forwards to the silhouette in the doorway, and out stepped…
A tiny lil’ old lady, with curlers and tin foil in her hair.
“Who are you?” They blurted out at the same time.
“I own this house.” The woman said with an air of majestic. “My name is Ms. Marpelmous. I apologize for the mess, and darkness, I haven’t gotten finished with the finishing touches, I moved in today.”
“Ms. Marpelmous? The great author?” Abby replied in shock, amazed at the sudden luck the town had had.
“Yes. I came here to clear my head, research a story, and indulge in my hobby.” Ms. Marpelmous responded with an air of mystique, gesturing into the room she had moved out of.
Suddenly, the whole house seemed a lot brighter, and Abby felt as though it were Christmas, not Halloween. It made perfect sense the murder mystery queen would come to a haunted house for research. She smiled at Ms. Marpelmous, amazed that she was actually in her presence, the British author who had written the most fantastic murder mysteries, like “Ten Little Indians” and “Murder on the Indian Concord”!
“I have so many questions to ask you, Ms. Marplemous! I’m a journalist.” Abby finally said.
“Ah, the press. Well, we may set up an interview later. First…” and she beckoned to the room behind her, before setting off into it. Abby stood still for a minute, and then decided to follow her.
The room she entered was much brighter, and filled with a colorful haze, pouring out of what looked like mini cauldrons. Tin foil littered the floor.
“Ms. Marplemous? What exactly is your hobby that you indulge in?” Abby mused out loud.
“Sit down.” Ms. Marplemous replied, as another crack of lightening burst outside, and the rooms fires died down sincerely, or so it seemed to Abby, who was suddenly panicked, but could do nothing but sit in a tall black spin chair, and lay her head back in the bin that was set up.
Ms. Marplemous slowly headed towards her head with a large pair a scissors, and Abby shut her eyes tight, her mind racing, and thinking about the most dramatic music she had ever heard.
The storm crashed overhead, and lightning forked over the sky.
And that was how Abby Palmer gained a friendship with acclaimed author Ms. Marplemous, twenty dollars, and the best blonde highlights and trim she’d ever had!!!
+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+
A/N: Happy Halloween! I had to write this for English, you'll most likely note the vocabulary usuage is like totally random high level words
, and I thought it would be cool to share it with you guys. If you have read Agatha Christie, don't read under the stars, and tell me what joke/ plays on her I made/did
************************
Since I don't think any of you have ever read Agatha Christie, I'll share the jokes with you. Agatha Christie is "an acclaimed murder mystery queen", and her detectives name was "Ms. Marple" who was a little ol' British lady. She wrote "And then there were None" Which is based on the poem "Ten Little Sailor Boys" which is adaptation from "Ten Little Indians" and she wrote "Murder on the Oriental Express". So Ms. Marple became "Ms. Marpelmous.", And then there were none became "Ten little Indians" and Murder on the Oriental Express became "Murder on the Indian Concord".
****************************
Abby Palmer is Abi and my cousins last name Palmer. Her sister was supposed to be like Rachel from friends. Jennifer Puckle held a double reason. My cousins name is Jenny Palmer, and Puckle was the original name of Hermione (Hermione Puckle). I liked the name because it showed courage. I just made it false courage in this case. Hehe. She has a lot "pluck". Hehe. My mom laughed out loud at the name. Mr. Hargreaves, is Hard Greaves, or "grevious" depending on how you want to look at it. The whole maid thing was another Agatha Christie thing. In regard to the ending, it was cause I had gotten my hair colored that day, lol.
Happy Halloween!!! Please leave a review in this thread, and I will lock it afterwards, deleting off topic things. <3.
