Dying to Get Out

Welcome to my portion of the Fall 2009 CYOB Spooktacular!

You are either a regular reader; you did a Google search for mustache patterns, mustache pattern, paper mustache patterns, moustache pattern, or moustache patterns, etc; or you came from The Modern Gal by clicking

You think Kate and Julie should try to open the trunk.

If you fall in one of the first two categories, I highly suggest you start at the beginning.

Julie said, "Okay fine. If we open the trunk, and, like, 5 billion spiders come out and eat us alive I am totally not talking to you at school on Monday." Julie's voice wasn't even wavering. If she had any fear, she had seemingly conquered it.

Kate picked up the key, and Julie snatched it from her hand. Without a second thought, Julie positioned the key in the keyhole of the trunk and turned it one-quarter turn to the right. Julie opened the lid as Kate sort of squinted her eyes to brace herself for the unveiling of the trunk's contents.

Julie chuckled while Kate fully opened her eyes. "See, it's just full of some old clothes and a bunch of mothballs," Julie proclaimed. "And just think, I was sort of freaked out by that Facebook quiz I took the other day that said if I were in a horror movie I wouldn't make it through the first 5 minutes. Cue hockey-mask guy and his instrument of death..."

With that, a demonstrative figure seemed to glide in the room, hands up in the air, while emitting a noise like a growl. He came upon the girls quickly. Kate bolted out of the room with a whimper while Julie said, "And 'Rarrrr!' to you too, big guy. Jazz hands!" She flashed a smile and displayed her best set of jazz hands. The figure then plunged its hands downward, causing Julie to fall to the floor like a rag doll and killing her instantly.

Kate was running and hyperventilating. Disoriented, she ran deeper into the house rather than running in the direction away from it. Suddenly she found herself in what appeared to be her long-deceased grandparents' basement, or at least some bizzaro version of it. There was the bar, the pool table, the gaudy decorations, the beaded lamp, and the orange and black tile, but there were also hundreds and hundreds of mattresses with pale, waif-like people lying on them, some struggling to beckon to Kate, others apparently incapacitated. Kate ran and ran, trying to get past the seemingly never-ending expanse of mattresses and at least find a place to hide and catch her breath. But then Kate caught a glimpse of something else familiar in that basement: Annelise.

Kate stopped and exclaimed, "Annelise!" as if she actually knew the girl, and as if finding her might provide some sort of way out of there. Kate tried to gather her breath to talk to Annelise, yet she stumbled. "Annelise, What is this? Why are we here?" Kate asked. Annelise replied, "This is your home now. You live here with us. Anyone who opens the trunk has to be punished."

Kate said, "But I didn't! I didn't open the trunk. I was just there when Julie did it!­" "Julie was punished too," said Annelise. "This is your punishment." A little girl, who didn't look older than 5, came over, looked directly at Kate with her almost black eyes and said, "You are going to wish you were where Julie is now. Welcome to hell on earth."

"Kate. Kate! KATE! Stay with us, Kate," said a blurry figure in a starchy, white shirt. Kate blinked hard. She struggled to get an oxygen mask off her face and ask, "What happened?" but the words never came. "Kate, I'm sorry, there's been a big carbon monoxide leak at your house. Trick or Treaters came to your door and found, um, your family. Then they called us...you're the only one who made it. We're gonna get you all fixed up, okay?"

Fin!

Happy Halloween, fools!

Fran