by Micaela B., 14
It was the second week of October. The air of Salem was filled with shadows. The town of Salem being known for witches and murders did not help how alarmed I felt every night. Something special about this one day, Friday the 13th.
Four years ago, a boy went missing and never came back. His name was Pat. People speculate that he is haunting all over the town since there has been no charm ever since.
It was a quiet evening and the blue sky was faint with pale blues. The leaves covered the ground. People were acting differently and the weather had a colder feel than previous days. The moon hung low and trees swayed with sadness as the leaves fell one by one. Halloween was around the corner and the town had a spookier feel than the night of Halloween.
The creaking of my front door sounded so strange that it made me pause until I saw a man wearing all black with an abnormally sized hat glancing straight forward at me. More strange than him was a sleek black creature that I’m pretty sure was a cat pacing around his feet. I knew about the whole mystery in the town, about the bad luck of cats and how they should not be allowed in our town because citizens don’t think our town needs any more bad luck.
I sat on my front steps hearing the whistles of the wind go by as my hair blew into my face. I was waiting for my friend Sara to come and get me so we could walk to the haunted house that all the kids were going to be at. After she arrived, we started walking to the haunted house which wasn’t a far walk. Turning the corner onto the last street, there was the cat, not with the man but just by itself. Something did not seem right to me but I didn’t want to show how petrified I actually was. We walked toward the cat when, all of a sudden, the man with the hat stepped out.
“See, there’s nothing to be afraid of Chloe, the cat has an owner,” Sarah said with a look as if she was about to burst into a laugh.
This was the same man I saw earlier that was staring straight ahead at me.
Putting off the scary encounter with the man, we finally arrived at the haunted house. There was a creepy man handing out tickets for the haunted house wearing all black and had, at most, five teeth. The house was gray with cobwebs drooping down the sides, boarded up windows, and a sign that said, “Enter at your own risk.” Stepping toward the front door, screams became more and more quiet. As I got closer to the opening, the fear reached me. The clouds covered up the blue sky and the atmosphere changed within seconds.
“Have fun,” a man whispered as we entered the house.
Stepping slowly through the opening, the door slammed behind us.
“Was that supposed to happen?” Sarah said.
I replied, “I don’t know, but I already want to leave.”
The tile on the floor creaked within the first few steps of walking in. With the little light I had, I saw the peeling of the paint inside this not-so-much house, and everything surrounding the house went silent. No more screams, no laughing, it was only silent.
“Sarah!” I yelled.
Nobody was next to me.
I heard creaking again in the distance. Should I move? I thought to myself. I comforted myself as I started to walk, saying, “It’s just a haunted house, it’s probably a part of a prank.”
I heard heavy amounts of breathing from somebody.
“Sarah, this isn’t funny.”
In front of me, a tall man with the same black cat inched toward me. The screams of horror could reach the next town.
That was the last anyone ever heard of me.
Ever since, I have been like a ghost in my town. I was ignored, there were missing posters all over my town, and I had completely been close to being forgotten. The only person I could talk to was Pat, the man with the cat.
New City, New York
Bridge Ink 