Now, now, kids, settle down! That's right, it's Rishi here again with another Halloween contest entry! Now sit down and shut up!
Alrighty, then. I have another story to tell tonight. The moon's out, all is quiet, and I have homework to do. So let's do this quickly!
One Halloween, I was about seven, my brother and I were going out to trick or treat. My brother was three. I was dressed as Blossom from the then-popular PowerPuff Girls. My brother? Oh, he dressed as Buttercup.
We went around with our neighbor, a seven year old dressed as a Native American chief, and collected candy. I don't remember much about it, but I do have one photo of me, my cross-dressing brother, and our chief friend standing in front of a house.
Now, if you're thinking "What kind of mother lets their son dress up in that kind of clothing?!", you're right, my mother was completely against it. But at the party store, my brother uttered the words that would haunt him (as we constantly reminded him),
"I wanna be Buttercuuuup...."
Happy Halloween.
Alright, alright, you’ve come into my domain! Quiet down, all of you! I’ve got a story to tell!
Halloween is a scary time of year, let me tell you. All the ghouls and ghosts and people trying to scare the crap out of you. Oh, it’s happened. Let me tell you of a little story, of a little girl who had just turned ten…
It was my birthday. My tenth birthday, to be exact. Double digits. I was excited—and my mother decided to take our family (consisting of me, my mom, my future aunt, my future cousins, and my little brother) to a haunted house in upper-state New York. When we arrived, I could hear a chainsaw revving, but that seemed unimportant, so I was blissfully unaware of the traumatic scars that would soon follow.
The first thing some idiot did was put on a “scary” mask and grabbed my shoulder. I turned around, faced him, and clocked him in the head. Apparently, the guy was bald, and was left with a bruise that probably lasted a week. He didn’t bother with my family after that.
Now, being my impulsive, just-turned-ten self, I wanted to go into the haunted house alone. One of my future cousins, who was about fourteen at the time, would not go in. I wanted to seem brave and cool, so I charged in alone, much to my mother’s horror.
At first, it wasn’t scary. I was smiling and laughing at the heads in the toilets.
But soon my high wore off.
Someone covered in red paint jumped out at me from a wall. That was the first time I screamed in that haunted house. After that, I jumped at the slightest thing, including the cheesy spiders plastered on the ceiling.
Somehow, I had made my way out of the dreaded haunted house. But I soon realized that I was fenced off. And I could hear a chainsaw…
Quickly, I turned, and I saw a Johnny-type character, with a hockey mask, a straw hat, overalls and all, carrying a chainsaw, revved up.
Doing what any normal child would do, I screamed, my feet nearly flying in an attempt to get away. The orange fence was right in front of me, and I frantically tried to climb over it, but, since I was not athletic in the least, I was fumbling around, completely useless.
The man came closer, and closer, and closer, until he said the words that haunted me and caused me nightmares for weeks.
“The exit’s that way.”
I ran like hell, and soon I was in the arms of my mother, sobbing. Apparently, my mother had chased after me with my little brother, but had to get out through a ‘secret exit’ because he had gotten scared.
And to this day, I have not set foot into one haunted house.
THE END
That’s my super-weird Halloween contest entry. I’ll write something else, too, but I hope you enjoyed!
