Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Connor:blog of the day 2

Revenge Is A Dish Best Served With Cold Iron
By Connor M. Jones
                 My head was pounding with a terrible headache, so I sat down on the park bench and rubbed my eyes.  when I opened them there was a strange little girl wearing an old fashioned dress and scarf over her hair.  She flashed a peculiar smile and said "I have a secret to tell you."  I was shocked and surprised by this odd girl and thus couldn't think properly.
  The first mistake I made was responding to what she said.  I said in an intellectual tone "If you tell it to me then it isn't really a secret is it?"  As I spoke I noticed her smile growing in size.  Finally it reached the point where she was grinning at me in the most creepy way.  As though she were a monster or something.
  Suddenly she said "Don't worry you can help keep the secret."  she dropped her voice down to a whisper "There's something bad out there.  It frightens me sometimes and all I know is it got my parents."  I thought about what I should do.  She was starting to cry and my conscience wouldn't let me refuse to help her in some way.
   My second mistake was offering to help.  My kindness and my willingness to help those in need was strong.  I said "How might I help?"  Afterward she told me to go toward the theater and try to find something there that might help.  I ran to the movie theater, but I found nothing there.  Realizing that the girl was in Elizabethan clothing I looked for the nearest theater.  Again I found nothing, but I saw a shadow moving amongst the props.
  Mistake number three was following the shadow to the backstage area.  Once I looked at what cast the shadow I realized that the being was the girl again.  She grabbed what looked to be a fake sword and held it in her hands.  Upon closer inspection I noticed that she was translucent and pale.  She wailed and charged at me with the sword.  She shouted "You will die for what you did!"  I moved out of the way and thought about what she said.
  My fourth and final mistake was to pick up a sword and try to charge at her.  She didn't move or scream.  She seemed to go limp and being who I am I ran over to see if she was still alive.  I tried to hold her in my arms and she said "You fool, you can't hold or kill a ghost.  YOU WILL PAY FOR WHAT YOU DID!"  With that final scream she grabbed the sword I had used.  She stood up wielding two swords.  She said "Don't worry your death will be just like mine.  SLOW AND PAINFUL!"  She stabbed the right sword through my right hand and the left sword into my gut.  I fell to the ground writhing in pain as I died a slow and painful death.  Every mistake I made that day flashing before my eyes and then I remembered that my ancestor had been a constable in Elizabethan England.  He had killed a young girl accused of witchcraft.  I died knowing why she wanted to kill me.

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