Saturday, 20 December 2008

"Ghost Story" by Becca

The oaken door slowly opened, and as he cautiously stepped forward the old floor creaked. Justin almost screamed, quickly looked around and shuddered. He was a slim, pale-skinned boy with blue eyes and light brown hair. He was easily scared, especially in the old castle where he lived.

It was a very old building, with maze-like hallways and forgotten, dark rooms. He was in one of them now, trying to make a map of these old and rotting rooms. Justin hated it, but his rich parents had ordered him to, so he had to do it. He flicked on his bright torch and looked around the room. This place was the creepiest room yet! It had an old-fashioned bed with a blood-red canopy, an old wardrobe that looked like it was going to collapse any minute, and a mirror.

The mirror was the scariest thing in the room. It had a dark, rough-edged frame around it that had a little carved bat at the top. He shuddered again. The bat’s eyes were red, as if they were on fire. The surprising thing about this room was that it had a window. That meant he was on one of the outer walls already, and he had only been to about twenty of these rooms so far.

He cautiously went over to the window, the floor creaking with his every step. When he finally reached the stone window frame, he found that it had torn, fire-red curtains, which were blowing into the room. Justin slowly opened the curtains, to look out at the view below. There was now a roaring thunderstorm outside, with lightning ripping apart the sky and thunder crashing through the air. There was also a howling wind, and as Justin looked down he saw he was in a tower three stories up. He quickly looked away, not wanting to look at the terrifying drop below. He backed away from the window. He could now see, in the light from the open window, the amazing tapestries hanging from the walls. He added the creepy room to his map. Then, he bolted out of that terrifying room, and forcefully slammed the oaken door behind him.

As he was walking towards the next door, he thought he heard whispering voices behind him, in the now pitch-black hallway, back by the creepy room with the oaken door. Justin spun around, his bright torch cutting through the darkness.

There was nothing behind him.

He continued to the next door, this one older-looking and made of a strong type of wood. He forced the door aside, and continued into the room. He thought he heard the voices again, and spun around to face the hallway. Once again, there was absolutely nothing there. He shuddered, and turned back into the room. This one looked like a dungeon! There were bare stone walls, not a window in sight, and the only piece of furniture in there was a lump of straw, which may have been used for a bed. It did not look like a very good place to sleep, as the floor was covered in dead moss and other dead weeds. There must have been a window here once, he thought.

He added this room to his map, turned to the door and… stopped. The door was closed. Oh, come on you big scairdy cat! He thought to himself; it must just be a self-closing door! He reached for the iron handle. The door was locked! Justin tried not to scream. He started beating on the door with his fists, crying “help! Help! I’m locked in! HELP!!!!” but it didn’t work. The thick wood of the door absorbed his voice. Besides, there was no one out there to hear him. His parents didn’t come into these forgotten rooms; they had no need to. It looked like he was spending the rest of the night in this dungeon of a room.

He slowly walked over to the straw bed, sat down, and started to cry silently. He must have somehow fallen asleep, because he eventually woke up. He stood up and started to walk to the heavy door to check if it was unlocked, but he clumsily fell over. He slowly got up and dusted himself off. He looked behind him and saw a heavy metal ball attached to his ankle by a chain. Someone must have put it on him during the night. Justin tugged, pulled and heaved at the metal ball, but it wouldn’t budge.

He looked around the room for something that could help get this thing off him, but the room was bare, just the same as last night. Except, just within his reach, was a tray of food. He pulled the tray closer and ate hungrily. The food wasn’t exactly delicious, just some bread and water.

Then he realised he might be a prisoner in this place. He remembered something his dad had told him, when he was younger: “Remember, son, if you are ever trapped in one of these rooms, then you are a prisoner of the ghosts that have haunted this castle since medieval times; they will let you go eventually, but just play along and stay calm until they do.”

So that was what was happening. The ghosts had trapped him in this dungeon, and he was perfectly safe. He slowly fell asleep, knowing he was fine.

The next morning when he woke up, the metal ball was nowhere in sight and the door was wide open. He ran out of the creepy dungeon in that dark hallway in this forgotten part of the old castle, to his nice, warm bed, where he lay down, pulled the covers over his head and tried NOT to think about ghosts.

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