The Last Broadcast by Marta Yalovenchyk Age 13
Tom had always loved working the night shift at the local radio station. It was a quiet, easy job, plus he always got to play whatever music he wanted. The building was old and tucked in a lonely, dark nook of the town, but Tom didn’t mind. It gave him time to think. One stormy, windy, gloomy night, just past midnight, he got a call. He frowned. The line wasn’t supposed to be available. The calls were shut off at ten. Still, he picked it up. “WZRD Radio, Tom speaking,” he said. “You’re on the line.” Silence. “Hello?” he asked again.
A calm voice finally answered. “Don’t let it in.”
Tom blinked. “Excuse me?” A breeze of mystery rippled through the atmosphere. Then the voice again, quieter now. “Don’t open the door. No matter what.” Then the line went silent. Tom sat back in his chair, staring at the phone. “Probably a teenager, making prank calls,” he said to himself. Still, something about that call, the voice was calm and determined. Tom shook it off and went back to playing his playlist.
The storm outside grew louder, howling wind swishing through the alleys, rain pattering against the windows. Then, - knocking. Tom froze. Three slow knocks followed. No one ever came this late. The front door was locked, and the entrance was down a long hallway past the main office. He shouldn’t have been able to hear knocking from that far. He turned off the radio and stood up. Another knock. Closer now. He walked through the dark hallway, his heart pounding. “Hello?” he called out. No answer. Lightning flashed. The lights flickered. He made it to the lobby. The front door was still locked. No sign of anyone outside. The he saw it, there were wet handprints on the window glass. Small, like a child’s. Tom backed away slowly, sweat beading down his face, his heart thumping against his ribcage. Back in the room, the radio crackled, - on its own. The screen glitched. A sound, - a low hum escaped from within the radio. Then he heard it again. A voice. His own. “Don’t let it in.” the words thundered in his mind. He stared at the equipment, frozen. Then the voice repeated, warped this time. “Don’t let it in. Don’t let it in. Don’t let – “A loud bang interrupted it. The power cut out. The station went dark.
Tom grabbed his flashlight and waited, listening. Nothing. Just the storm. He decided to leave. This wasn’t worth it. He made it to the lobby again, but his time the door, - was wide open. Rain blew in. Muddy footprints led inside. He followed them with his flashlight, hoping it was a lost kid, half-wishing he’d just stayed home. The footprints led down the hallway… back toward the booth. He turned the corner and stopped. Someone was sitting in his chair, facing the wall. Tom stepped closer. “Hey, - are you okay?” he asked as his voice trembled. The figure didn’t move. He reached out and touched the shoulder. It was ice cold. The chair spun. There was no one there. Just static rippling through the room. Then the lights came back on. Everything looked normal. The booth was empty.
Tom backed away slowly, breathing hard. He turned to leave and stopped. Standing in the hallway was a boy. Pale, soaked, barefoot. Maybe six or seven years old. “Are you lost?” Tom asked, his voice shaking. The boy looked up at him. His eyes were pitch black. Tom ran. He didn’t stop until he was outside, in the rain, car keys jiggling in his hand. He jumped in his car and didn’t look back. The next morning, he returned to the station with the manager and two cops. Nothing was out of place. No muddy footprints. No handprints on the windows. No weird audio in the system. But Tom knew what he’d seen. What he’d heard. He quit that day. The station still runs the overnight shift. But now, no one goes in alone. And sometimes, just after midnight, a call comes in. No one ever answers it.
Total Darkness by Mia Beattie Age 14
Pumpkins. Bought just to dig a blade deep into the skin. Some eat the insides, most just toss them out, but some people, they just leave the pumpkin untouched. Waiting for the right time that may never come.
November, six days after Halloween and Adeline’s pumpkins sit on her porch, rotting. Addy knows she needs to deal with them but the longer she waits, the less she wants to.
In the morning, she tells herself, it's too dark right now, too cold outside.
Addy opens her door, which is unlocked. She could’ve sworn that she’d locked it this morning, though; she doesn’t have the best memory. She used to be so sharp, at least that's what everyone always tells her, doesn't let Addy forget how perfect she was, no matter how hard her brain tries. Now, it feels like Addy’s life is constantly rewriting itself, contradicting her own thoughts.
As the door creaks open, she’s met with total darkness. Addy reaches out and feels for the light switch.
Click.
She still can't see. Her vison consumed by shadows.
Great! Another thing to add to the list of stuff Addy has forgotten, paying the electrical bills.
Addy blindly guides herself to the kitchen. What once was a house is now a maze. She moves slowly, adding extra caution to each step. She must be getting close now, after all her house isn’t very big. Suddenly, she’s met with a throbbing pain. Her right hip colliding with the table's edge.
Wincing in pain, she trudges forward. Finally, she finds the utility drawer and pulls out a flashlight.
She presses her thumb into the button. It makes a low click as it turns on. Flickering a few times before filling the room with a narrow beam of light.
God, Addy needs to clean up. Her kitchen is overflowing with dishes, last night's dinner, mostly untouched, still sitting on her plate. Addy hasn't been feeling very hungry recently. She briefly contemplates making a quick meal. Though the longer Addy thinks about it, she starts to feel a bit nauseous. She must be getting sick.
As Addy makes her way to her bathroom, she suddenly feels very uneasy. Like somebody is walking behind her, watching her every move. She takes a second to look around, heart pounding out of her chest. Nobody.
Taking a deep breath, Addy continues. Once in the bathroom, she pulls out a yellow toothbrush. She can’t remember why exactly she’d bought it; she doesn’t even particularly like yellow. Then again, looking into her reflection, she realizes she’s wearing a fitted yellow shirt. Subconsciously, Addy must like the colour more than she’d thought.
This being the first time she has properly looked at her appearance in ages; she feels kind of stuck to the mirror, noticing all her little flaws. Her bangs are getting too long, but maybe she should grow them out, she’s had short hair for a while, and maybe—
Finally looking up, she sees something in the corner of her eye. Addy freezes, her heart racing like she fell from a skyscraper. Standing in the far back corner of the kitchen, only visible through the mirror, is a person. Or wait maybe it's not a person, it can’t be, the humanoid looking thing is so tall, but not in a way that’s natural. It appears that the skin has been stretched, desperately trying to fit itself across the abnormal bone structure, almost ripping in the process.
After a second longer she realizes that she should stop staring, it will only alert the creature. Still feeling like her lungs are failing to operate properly, she tries her best to think rationally. She could run and try to get outside. Except that means moving right past the creature and what if it’s fast. She could walk slowly and play dumb, but what if it's just waiting for exactly that, ready to attack. She glances around the room.
Addy notices the window. Maybe she could climb out; she isn't the most athletic, but she could definitely try. She moves to close the door, except once she starts walking, she suddenly feels the urge to walk further, like the “thing” is communicating through her brain.
As much as she tries to resist, she can’t; she's not in control anymore.
“Do you recognize me?” It says, but not out of its mouth, skin covering it. No, it was spoken directly into Addys mind. “I’ve always been here, hiding in the darkness.”
Addy tries to scream but no sound comes out.
“Thanks, being such a good host, letting me feed.” It speaks in a low tone “But now, I'm ready.”
Addy feels herself slipping away; she tries to hold on. Suddenly, she can’t feel anything anymore, can’t think, her brain isn't her own, but theirs.
When Light Turns Red by Juno Sulek Age 10
It’s the morning before Halloween. The air is crisp and I just finished putting up the Halloween decorations. I am 12 years old, and my name is Annie Elizabeth Brown. I live with my parents on a small ranch 80 kilometers north of Austin Texas USA . “I'm done” I call to my Dad. My voice echos across our empty field. Dad just finished packing the car for the annual Halloween barn dance. Our car is kind of rundown but I don’t mind. We don’t use it much. Mom claims she gets car sick, but I know she just doesn't like to be seen in it. Mom wants to get a new car, but Dad wont let her. He says our car has character. I don’t know what character means. I mean after all, I am home schooled. Mom want’s to send me to public school, but Dad likes having me on the ranch. “Where's mom?” I call. “She’s putting the horses in the stable before we leave,” replies Dad. “OK let’s get this drive over with” says Mom, as she walks across our cold and hard gravel driveway. “I ‘m getting colder by the second” says Mom as she hopes into the car. “Come on Annie” says Dad. I jump into the car and Dad hits the gas.
HALF AN HOUR LATER.....
Our small blue station wagon rolls along the old dirt road that leads to the Mcallister barn where the annual Halloween barn dance is held. “I’m bored” I call up to the front seat where mom and dad are sitting. “Can we turn on the radio?” Dad takes one hand off the wheel and turns on the radio “There have been five missing people reported in the last hour. The government is informing...” CLICK Dad quickly turns off the radio. “What was that” “umm... just never mind”. When we finally arrived at the Mcallister barn, the sun is setting. All the Halloween decorations are torn to pieces and no one is hear. There are holes and what looks like teeth and claw marks everywhere. I walk over to the barn, and with my good arm grab the handle and yank open the barn door.
One of the hinges is broken so I only manage to get it half open. I peer through and everything is dark. I reach my hand out to flick on the lights and I feel something wet. I quickly pull my hand out and lurch back. I stumble over a piece ribbon and land on the ground. I stand up and brush the dust off my back. I slowly approach the barn door again, stepping over bits of ribbon and some rakes. I stare into the darkness squinting my eyes and trying to see what I felt. Suddenly two red dots appear. The creature lunges at me. I shriek, turn around, and sprint as fast as I can. The creature is chasing me! Mom and Dad stare at me petrified. Dad’s eyes scan the torn up barn yard for something to help. Him and Mom run to a red minivan. Dad jumps in the front and Mom hops in the back. He twists the key and stomps on the gas. The old minivan roars to life as the headlights flicker. The van starts moving. Dad steers towards me. He swerves and Mom reaches out, grabs my arm and lifts me inside. We roar down the dirt road. I look back and see the two red eyes chasing us as we speed away into the darkness.
It is a long and silent drive home. When we arrive, it is dark and the moon is full almost at its highest point in the sky. We get out of the car in silence. Dad stares at the car inspecting it and checking for flat tires. “4 flat tires and no license plate” he mutters, “We’ll never make it to town” gasps mom. “We’ll make it” says dad. We walk to the house. When we get inside, dad moves the dresser in front of the door. As I go up the stairs, mom calls up to me, “just don’t go near the window”. I can feel my face go white. I nod and continue going up to my room, not sure if i will live to see tomorrow. I get to my room and stare at my bed, which once looked safe but now looks like my death bed. That night I stare at the ceiling horrified. I hear a rustling outside, I turn my head and there are two glowing red dots at the edge of the property. I quickly turn my head hoping it won't notice me. I hear another rustling sound outside. I tilt my head and know it’s in the yard. My heart is beating faster by the second. I hear the rustling once more and the two red dots are right below the window. I sprint towards the window, close the blinds, get back in bed hoping it will leave. Then I hear a drip, drip, drip. I slowly tilt my head and the two red eyes are on my windowsill. Drool is dripping off the window and onto the ground. I get up and move towards the door. As soon as my hand meets the doorknob, Annie Elizebeth Brown was never seen again.
The Masked Killer by audrey brown Age 13
Rumors spread throughout highland secondary like a chilly wind on an October night. Nobody could stop them. four teenagers killed in ten days. Teachers whispered; parents panicked. Some thought it was students; others joked that it was their old principal’s ghost. But Sara knew the terrifying twisted truth. It all started a month ago.
Three students walked the halls: Sara, Jason Sara’s boyfriend, and Lily Sara’s best friend. Jason and Lilly were making fun of Adeline, the most popular girl in school. “She’s so stuck up” sneered Jason “I don’t get why she’s even popular in the first place,” Lilly added. Sara listened but chooses not to participate. Sometimes she feels sorry for Adiline, but she would never tell Jason or Lilly.
The murders started October 14th. Sara didn't want to go to school that day, but her parents waved it off and said, “You'll be safe.” She hoped they were right. That day Lilly reminded Sara about her annual Halloween party and wanted to know if it was still happening. There was a killer on the loose, yet all her friends were asking about the party. Pressure overwhelmed Sara’s body until she called her mom and told her to pick up decorations; she didn't want to disappoint anyone.
The house was filled with laughter and the orange glow of plastic streamers everywhere. Sara, Jason and Lilly all stuck close most of the night, pouring punch for everyone. Sara was trying to avoid the knot in her chest when Jason and Lilly left her by herself; she had assumed that they had left. Then a scream cut through the music and chatter. Sara ran and pushed through the crowd in the bathroom to be met by Adiline’s motionless body oozing with blood on the cold tile. For a split second, Sara thought it was a prank. It's not.
Sara couldn't sleep that night; the moment just kept replaying in her mind. She felt like she was in a nightmare that was impossible to wake up from. She called Lilly and began to explain what happened but got cut off, “Me and Jason were there when it happened.” She said so calmly like it was rehearsed 100 times. Sara felt uneasy about that because she could have sworn they weren't there, she looked everywhere.
Sara felt something was wrong and her instincts nagged her to go to Lilly’s house. When she talked to Lilly, Lilly said all the perfect things in a perfect tone. Sara was about to leave when Lilly went to get a drink from the kitchen. Sara used this moment to scan her tidy room when something caught her attention. An old Halloween mask but not just any mask the exact one the police had described that the killer has been spotted wearing. Sara went to pick it up to get a better look but was lunged at by Lilly, Sara had no choice but to fight back so she shoved Lilly and ran but she caught up so Sara shoved her as hard as she could and she falls over on to her marble stairs, by the time she makes it to the bottom she had fallen to a terrible fate and blood was spreading quick and dark.
Controlled by fear, Sara ran to the last person she felt she could trust: Jason. She banged on the door and was sobbing will she told him everything the mask, the fight, the fall. Something in his face changed his eyes turned to stones, and in a split second he had her hair in his fist and was pulling her towards his kitchen. "You killed her.” He yelled. Sara’s head was throbbing, and she was trying to fight back. “I loved her. We planned; we planned it all. All we had to do next was get rid of you.” He yelled again louder now, as he grabbed her hand and shoved it into the garbage disposal. The pain was electric throughout Sara’s whole body, as the cold medal cut her hand. Jason's face was filled with rage and betrayal. Sara felt something with her free hand. A knife.it must have been left out on the counter. She wrapped her fingers around it and with all her power sank it into Jason's chest. His grip loosened and he fell to the ground. Sara pulled her arm out and cradled it as it sent stinging pain all over. She yelled for someone to call 911 before she tumbled to the ground beside Jason. When she woke up in a daze, the world was spinning. There were red and blue lights flooding Sara's vison as she slipped between conciseness. Now laying in an ambulance on a cold October evening where rumors spread through the once happy little town of Comox.
Burnt Matches by Zoë Henderson Age 14
How could they do it? He fumed as he searched the aisles. Take me off council, after I’ve been on for so long, done so much for them! Charles had scoured every corner of the store, but he had finally found them, the fireworks. He piled as many as he could into his cart and then headed to the register. “Big event coming up?” The cashier asked at the checkout.
“Sure,” Charles responded, “Something like that.”
Everything was in place; the fireworks and propane tanks scattered throughout the house. It was time. If this is how they want it to be, then fine, the whole town will burn with me! Then, he struck the match.
10 years later:
“Come on Theo, it’s time to go to preschool, I have to get to work,” Theo’s mother begged as he sat, rooted to the floor, refusing to move.
“No, Mummy, I don’t want to go! The other kids are mean to me,” Theo protested. Exasperated, she carried him to the car, as he desperately tried to wriggle free.
“I’ll talk to Ms. Clara about it. I’m sure they’ll let you play with them today anyway.”
“Fine,” Theo groaned reluctantly, and buckled his seat belt.
Theo had been going to Ms. Clara’s Preschool for a week now, in a building that was recently rebuilt after a fire years ago.
Theo’s mother dropped him off, and he trudged inside, dreading the day to come. The other kids were all sitting in a circle on the carpet, entranced by the ghost story the oldest girl was telling. “He was so furious that he lit the house on fire and then... BOOM!” She cried and everyone jumped, some curling up and whimpering in fear. “The man was never seen again...”
“Hey guys, can I join?” Theo asked, looking around the group expectantly.
“If you want to join us, you're going to have to prove yourself. You have to go down to the basement.” announced the storyteller, a mischievous smile spreading across her face.
“Oooh, the basement,” murmured a small girl, eyes wide. “I heard there’s ghosts down there.”
“Bet you’re too scared,” sneered a boy, as if daring him to object.
Feeling a sudden rush of bravery and determination, Theo said, “I’ll do it!”
“Alright then,” the girl said, a hint of a challenge in her voice. “Let’s see it.”
Theo walked out of the playroom, followed by the braver of the group with his head held high, and down the long hallway that led to the basement stairs. During the tour on the first day of preschool, Ms. Clara had warned the children not to go down there, claiming it was full of junk and unsafe. Since then, none of the children had the guts to venture down; that is, until today. The stairs creaked under Theo’s feet as he slowly descended into darkness, as if entering the mouth of a giant beast. The basement held the faint odour of must and decomposition, perhaps a trapped rat. The open door at the top of the stairs was the only source of light and weak streams of it spilled down the stairs. Suddenly, the door slammed shut, leaving Theo in complete darkness. He could hear the fading sound of laughter as the kids ran away, back to the safety of the playroom. He tried to find his way back to the stairs but tripped over one of the many boxes on the floor and landed on the damp ground.
“They left you,” a voice called out from somewhere deeper in the basement, reverberating off the walls. “They decided they were better off without you.” Theo spun around, trying to see where the voice was coming from.
“Who are you?” Theo gasped, panic growing in the pit of his stomach.
“That’s not important” the voice drawled, “All that's important is that you and I are one and the same: outcasts. I can help you get even with those kids. Reach your fingers to the right.” Theo did as he was told, as if controlled by some unnatural force, feeling around until his hands landed on the cool rubber of the hose. With a sharp tug, the hose disconnected, hissing as the smell of rotten eggs drifted from the leak.
The door swung open, at the top of the stairs, Ms. Clara was waiting for him.
“Theo, what were you doing!” she demanded, “I told you not to go down there!” She was clearly flustered, and Theo felt a stab of guilt; he hadn’t meant for this to happen.
“The man told me to do it,” he replied simply.
“What do you mean?”
“He told me they all deserve to burn.” Then he brought out the box he had found in the dark, and Theo struck the match.
Mount Grimm by Carver Doss Age 10
The day before Halloween, a group of hikers named Derrek, Mike, and Jane set out to hike Mount Grimm. The mountain got its name from a man who created a statue of the Grim Reaper and put it on the top of the mountain, but he was never seen again. The hikers wanted to climb the mountain to see the statue and parachute off the top.
They set off at 2 p.m. and hopped in Derrek’s truck to drive to the bottom of the mountain. As they were putting on their gear, Mike heard a strange whistling sound coming from the forest above, but he brushed it off.
At first, everything seemed normal, but the farther they hiked, Mike felt as though someone was watching him. Once they reached the statue, they decided to wait until exactly midnight, because that was when they would jump. Jane went first, then Derrek. Finally, it was Mike’s turn.
When Mike jumped, he was about to pull his parachute when he felt lighter. He looked down and realized his parachute had fallen. His backpack was below him. Suddenly, he began floating upward. He looked at his waist and saw bony skeleton arms wrapped tightly around him. That was when he realized it was the Grim Reaper carrying him away.
He could hear his friends screaming to him, but when he tried to scream back, he felt horrible pain in his throat. Just as he realized what was happening, he passed out.
The next thing he saw was a fire. Suddenly, he was hanging above. The Grim Reaper stood before him with a black cloak, a silver scythe, and blood red eyes. They looked strangely familiar. Then, he passed out for the second time.
When he woke up as if no time had passed, he was standing with his wrists tightly tied together. His friends were in front of him, but when he looked closer, he realized they were not his friends. Their eyes were the same blood red as the Reaper’s. He ran from the cave, thinking he had escaped, but his vision suddenly went black.
This time, when his sight returned, he felt himself being lifted again by the Grim Reaper. All he saw were endless trees. He started walking in a straight line, hoping to find civilization. Soon, he noticed a red mark on a tree. Relieved, he kept walking, but then he saw the same mark again. By the third time, he knew something was wrong.
He climbed a tree to look ahead, but all he saw were more trees, the same height and shape. It was a loop. Suddenly, the branch broke. He fell a long way, but when he hit the ground, he went straight through it like water. By a miracle, he grabbed a ledge. Looking down, he saw people staring up at him with the same blood red eyes. To his horror, he recognized them all.
Pulling himself up, he tried to escape, but the people surrounded him. Pain spread through his body, like a thousand hornets stinging him at once. He ran as fast as he could, until he spotted something on the ground. It was his backpack, with his parachute inside. He looked up and saw Mount Grimm in the distance.
He ran toward a trail, but it was as if he was not moving. Finally, he broke free and sprinted to the trail. At the end, he saw Derrek’s truck. He tried to yell, but no sound came out. He saw Derrek and Jane, but they could not see him.
He looked down at his hands. They were shockingly bony. That was when he realized the truth... he had become the Grim Reaper, doomed to haunt Mount Grimm until the next hikers came along without a clue.
The Opera By Clara Le Grand Age 12
I looked up to the stage with a shiver. A ghostly chill ran down my spine. My hands felt like they were glued to the armrests, but I could move them enough to slowly tap my index finger.
I was in a theatre. A cold, shadowy, eerie theatre with dark-coloured walls and big red curtains. The place smelled musty and old, and you could see pieces of the wallpaper peel off around you.
Suddenly, a creepy old opera song started playing. It echoed off the walls, enhancing the sound of the music.
Only, there wasn’t a musician in sight.
Not any living souls, really. It seemed as if I were the only one there.
My eyes were flickering in and out of sight. My eyes hadn’t adjusted, even though it had been dark for hours.
Finally, a figure loomed out onto the stage. They walked so eerily, they must have had a limp.
Just like in old operas, it was a woman wearing a Viking’s hat, with long blonde braids that fell to her waist. She was wearing a brown dress that looked like it was made of animal fur. She staggered out onto the stage, limping on her right leg. She turned to face me, and I gasped.
Her eyes were pure white, like snow-coloured glass eyes, but they had small, bloody holes in them, as if someone stabbed a needle in her eyes. A single spotlight flickered on, off, then on again and slowly steadied on the figure.
With the spotlight, I could see her better now . . .
The figure was misty and grey, but you could still see certain shades on her, like how the braids were blonde and the dress was brown. She seemed to hover a little as she walked, almost like her feet didn’t touch the ground.She positioned herself in the center of the stage, smiling creepily and bowing as if an audience was cheering beforeher.
She closed her eyes and opened her mouth.
And then a wave of unpronounceable words from an opera song streamed through her mouth. They were grand and loud, but they were sung in the strangest voice. She sung as if she had no emotion, like how reanimated corpse would talk.
The words she sang made me shiver horribly.
Suddenly, her voice began to deepen into a creepy, deep voice. Her “skin” started to crack like a baseball hit a window. She blinked her eyes shut then open again. They flickered from red, back to the pure white eyes she had in her first ghostly form.
She clutched her head as if the eerie transformation gave her a horrible headache. Suddenly, her cracked skin began to peel off her. The skin hit the floor and broke into a thousandpieces, with the echoing sound of glass breaking. Her eyes finally switched to a disturbing, eerie red colour. Without the skin and the white eyes, I could tell what she really was.
A disgusting corpse with its eyes red, dripping blood, limbs dangling and bent in directions they shouldn’t be, and bones and muscle seen through wounds. It still had their braids and Viking hat on, but that only added to the disrupting appearance of this creature. It looked at me angrily, like it wanted to tear me apart, leaving pieces of me scattered on the stage as a warning to anyone else who thought it was a good idea to enter the theatre.
I screamed and tried to stand up, my heart beating through my chest furiously.
The creature started to limp downstage, closer and closer to me. It scrambled off the stage, its limbs flailing as if everything was dislocated from their sockets.
I was stuck to the seat, almost like somebody had caked the entire chair in glue.
The creature before me started to limp towards the chair, reaching out with its ghoulish arms. Each finger was terrifying, almost all of them having bone-deep wounds to show off their rotting finger joints.
I screeched at the top of my lungs, covering my face with my hands.
Suddenly, two cold bony hands touched my shoulders.
I slowly lowered my hands from my face.
Nothing was in front of me. The stage was empty and clear of reanimated bodies.
But as I turned my head around to face the row of seats behind me, my eyes met with the ghoulish creature that had terrorized me just seconds before.
Its cruel smile sent a waft of the smell of rotting teeth straight at me. I stared at the creature, terrified.
The ghoul lunged at me, grabbing my neck and pulling my head close to its face.
Suddenly, the ghoul opened its mouth and croaked some words . . .
“Bye, bye.”