Fireside Voting!
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QUOTE (Entry 1)
BORN

It had been quick. It wasn’t the man’s fault, just fates mistake. It had been raining for days; the streets were slick with mud and old leaves. The truck hadn’t been going that fast, but the cat was rushing to the other side, tired of having soaked fur. The driver had swerved, it wasn’t his fault he didn’t see me.

It had been quick, just a burst of pain, then I couldn’t feel anything at all. When I opened my eyes I felt the rain hitting my face, it was soothing, and tingling warmth started up my legs. If I wasn’t so drowsy I would have smiled at the blurring gray sky. I couldn’t hear anything but the rain hitting the pavement by my head. I was so sleepy, and I just wanted to rest.

I saw people rushing towards me, but their bodies slowed down as they got close, and blurred like I was looking at them through a wet window. I never got to see any of them get to me.

The world began to stop, the blurred edges of it melting together like a faded painting. It grew dark, the patter of the rain was like a distant buzz, and I became afraid. The faceless bodies around me now seemed twisted and endemic to the shadows surrounding them. They were getting closer to me, I tried to scream.

I struggled to stand, but once I got to my feet I was titubent, unable to walk straight but trying desperately not to touch any of the shadowy figures around me. Their claw like hands reached out at me, trying to grab at me with thorny fingers. I was crying, and just before losing my will and surrendering to them, a vesuvian entity emerged nearby! The light he put forth was like a fire, and the shadows burned away into wailing wisps around me but I was left unharmed. I looked upon him and fell to my knees.

His voice was calm and had an edge of humor to it, “Need help?”

He was reaching out a hand to help me up and after a moment, I found I had the strength to take it. He was the same as everything else, a big blur, but warmth emanated from him like a golden light. It was a calming light, and I felt weightless with him as he held my hand. Never had I experience something like this. I was speechless and could not look upon him, but I could not look away. Standing there with him I felt joy like never before, and the blur of the world around me began to clear.

Suddenly I found I was looking down at myself, people were huddled around talking but I couldn’t understand them, their speech was muddled. Red blood pooled around me like a halo, mixing with the rain water and running down a nearby drain. Paramedics were working on me now, but I wasn’t there anymore, and they couldn’t get me to come back.

“Had a bit of a fall I see.”

“What happened?” I asked.

He was silent for a moment, “You’ve died.”

This harrowing fact didn’t surprise me; I wasn’t scared, I just didn’t know what would happen next. My family was never religious, so I didn’t really believe I’d ‘go’ anywhere after I died. But here I was wasn’t I? I was somewhere, I could still think, I still had a body though my senses were dulled. What would happen to me now?

Suddenly I was in a cemetery, and all my friends and family were around. They were all weeping and I knew they were crying for me. I felt ashamed that I couldn’t comfort them, tell them that I was ok. I saw my mom, dad and sister and felt a sinking feeling. It was strange that I could never be with them again like I had been before; going on family outings together, carving jack-o-lanterns at Halloween, decorating the tree at Christmas. I stood by them for the whole ceremony, whispering to them about the happy times, but I knew they couldn’t hear me.

“They’re sad you left.” He said next to me.

“I wish they weren’t, I’m not worth their tears.” I said as I wiped my own from my cheeks.

He didn’t say anything, just placed a warm hand on my shoulder and it eased my spirit.

The moment faded like a memory and I found myself in a house, my house, but it was abandoned. There was no warmth within its walls and no love within its rooms. For what seemed like years I wandered through its dusty and forgotten halls, every once in a while seeing a fleeting glimpse of what things would have been like had I still been alive. Sometimes I felt even as if my family were in the house with me, but nothing more than ghost.

I was attached to the house, it became a part of me, but I was in pain. I wanted to leave but how could I abandon the one part of my life I still had? But one night, I thought I could hear the sweet voice of my mother begging me to go, that it was time for me to leave. I left it, though I didn’t want to, and before I went I ran my hands along the banisters I used to slide down, and took one last look at the entrance hallway before shutting the door.

I soon was walking down a country road and the soft rain was soaking me. Suddenly I felt lost and stopped to look around. No direction seemed right, like everything was uphill. I felt like I wanted to cry, but then I saw him again. He was clear to me now, his young but wise face smiled and his flaxen hair blew in a breeze that was no there. He held out his hand.

“It’s this way, you coming?”

I took his hand and we walked into the glow.[/quote]

QUOTE (Entry 2)
The wind billowed outside, causing the old shutters to smash into the house, again and again.  The porch sagged, signs of rot showing in the wood.  The house was barely upright, tilting wildly where various rooms had been added in during the years when the house was in use.  In its time it might have been a grand sight to behold, but nobody was sure.  There were no clear signs of architecture around, not even traces of flowers where a garden might have been.  The only decoration was a single old tree, large and proud.  Even though years had passed it still made the effort of putting out leaves, vigorously decorating the lawn in its colors during fall.  The house had stood this way for time out of mind, and probably would have continued that way if the committee had never formed.  It had though, and the house was to be torn down.

The committee huddled outside the house, studying it like it was a wild animal.  In many of their minds it was.  Growing up around it they had heard strange tales about what happened.  Children told stories of treasure hidden inside.  Gristly murders were shared around campfires.  The quietest whispers though, were the ones everyone ignored.  The whispers were unbelievable, frightening.  Elders whispered it to children as a warning only in bright sunlight when they were out of sight of the old house.  The whispers told of disappearances, of things that shouldn’t have been but were.  Always the warning followed.  ‘The house is our life, so leave it alone or else.’  The message was too obscure to understand, but the point was clear.  Touching the old house was not allowed.

Still the committee braved the house, looking down on it.  Soon it would be gone thanks to their efforts.  One of them stirred out of the silence.  “Is that a pumpkin?”  He was the youngest of the group, and had moved to the community.  He didn’t know about the stories.  Mesmerized several committee members stared at the porch.  Sure enough, as merrily as if it was getting ready to welcome trick or treaters, sat a jack-o-lantern.  A couple muttered, crossing themselves.  Uneasiness filled the group.  “Did someone put it there?” a woman asked.  Glad to find such a reasonable answer the committee moved up the sidewalk to retrieve the pumpkin.  It was too far in though, past the rotten wood.  No one could have gotten there without shattering the porch.  It was too much for one, who quickly left the group.  Frowning the man who had noticed stepped onto the porch.  It broke underneath, causing him to fall in.

Several members reached their hands down into the hole, only to find nobody down there.  Someone stepped into the hole, seeing if the man might have rolled under the porch.  Nothing was to be found though.  Straightening up the person shrugged, only to find everyone staring in disbelief.  Looking behind him he yelled.  The jack-o-lantern had become uncarved, as full as if it had never been touched.  A few more hurried away, leaving only a small group of five huddled together.  “We should grab the pumpkin,” one of them muttered.  The strange events had set them on edge, waiting for something to happen.  Cautiously a woman reached for the pumpkin, only to find it farther than she had thought.  Stepping forwards she found herself in the doorway of the house.  Shivering with the chills she looked back.

This was the braver group.  They had heard the whispers and still stood watching.  When the woman entered the house they followed, wanting to disprove the rumors.  Standing together they looked around.  Cobwebs were everywhere, though they were only the normal kind.  It looked so normal that the events outside seemed surreal.  Snorting one of them pulled ahead, yanking open a door that headed downstairs.  “Come on, the fool’s probably knocked out down there.”  The group followed, tramping down the stairs.  If they had looked behind they might have noticed something close the door behind them, but they didn’t.  Instead they stood in the basement, fumbling around for their lost companion.  “I found something!” a man cried.  Thinking it was the lost member they gathered together, only to find the woman who had reached for the pumpkin, dead.

Her head lolled against the wall, face contorted in a look of terror.  There was no blood marking her, just a slight mark around her neck, like someone had pulled a string too tight.  Mutterings began again.  The woman was murdered.  Which one of them had done it?  Accusations raced around in a pointless torrent.  There really was no way to find out.  The cause of death was a mystery, as well as the weapon.  She could have been poisoned before entering even.  Backing off the group agreed it was time to leave.  Once out they would call the police.  Walking back up the stairs the leader tried to open the door.  It wouldn’t budge.  Scared now he began banging against it, working into a frenzy.  The rest of the group rushed up, pushing as much as they could, but it was pointless.  They argued about whether or not the front door was locked upstairs as well, but the point was moot.  It didn’t matter since they couldn’t leave the basement.

Sobbing the last woman of the group sank to the ground.  A man wrapped his arms around her, trying desperately to comfort her.  There was no way to do it though.  They were trapped, and they all knew it.  The other two men investigated the basement, trying to see if there was anything else down there.  It was completely empty.  The room had probably been used as a cellar, the room left unfinished.  Their only company in the small dark was a dead woman, eyes screaming in fear.  Shrugging someone suggested turning out the lights to conserve power.  Angry the man hit him, yelling about how stupid that was.  They tumbled out of the light, leaving the woman huddled in the man’s arms.  The noises were swallowed up, only the soft sobbing left behind.

Time crawled by.  The men never returned from fighting.  “I guess we’re going to die here,” the man said.  “I see,” the woman answered.  He looked at her in surprise.  She was calm, her voice slightly dry.  Pulling away he studied her.  There was no fear.  He looked again to find a knife in her hands.  “Wha-“ It was all the man could get out before she attacked.  The woman had gone berserk, striking madly at the man.  Feebly he tried to defend herself, only to grow weaker with each slash.  There was too much blood loss.  Gasping he sank down, dead.  Hungry the woman sank her teeth into his flesh, just like the wild animal they had imagined the house as.

The meat didn’t last long.

Time passed, and a small child sat on the porch of the house.  “They’re all gone now.  You can relax.”  The old house seemed to sag in response, as if releasing tension.  “Don’t worry; the bodies will be taken care of.”  Turning around the child skipped inside, floating just a couple inches above the floor.[/quote]

QUOTE (Entry 3)
As I hung on to the rotting piece of wood, fearing for my life, I wondered what had caused me to take that stupid dare? Perhaps it was my ego, and being a teenager as well. I knew my friends had a tendency to overdramatize things but I was a bit gullible and easily swayed by others opinion of me. Yet that should not have made me listen to the dare. Luckily, I was not alone in this endeavor. Will, my good friend, decided to relieve me of my sudden boldness and announced that he would come with me. I looked askance at him but he gave a half-smile and a shrug. It seemed as if I would not be getting any answers from him as to why he wanted to come along, but I could not complain. As he walked me home that evening, I had to look away as an unwelcome blush came crawling onto my cheeks.

In our little town there is an old, abandoned house on the top of the hill. There were many stories about that house, and most of them said that it was haunted. I was not sure if what I heard was true, but what I did know was that the house looked eerie even during the day. Of course, everyone knew that I was afraid of almost everything, and hated to be alone. So the dare was to spend a full night in that house.

The night that this challenge was to take place was chosen by my so-called “friends” was Halloween. It was a creepy day to begin with, and a haunting fog greeted us that chilly night, enfolding us like the arms of ghouls. The moon was full, and there was an eerie wind blowing, calling out almost mournfully. I knew that it was not going to be a pleasant night, but at least I had company. To ease my fears, I looked upon tonight's dare as a mission: I was determined to find out what was going on at the house. However, my fears persisted and as Will arrived at my house, I nearly jumped as he leaped up onto my front porch.

“Are you okay?” He asked with an encouraging smile. I nodded weakly, as if I was still convincing myself. The hour had come, and as I rose I felt a chill creep up my spine, and my fears attempted to talk me down, to relinquish my mission and the dare. We walked together the couple of blocks, passing many houses that had their decorations out and at least one jack-o’-lantern.

We approached the bottom of the hill and saw that a group of teens waiting for us to go in. Apparently, they would keep watch to make sure we, or at least I, stayed in the house until morning. We opened the gates that surrounded the property and descended up the barren hill. We approached the door and heard what sounded like moaning. I shivered violently and took a step back, thinking it was a bandersnatch or ghost or else something even worse. Will grabbed my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. I was thankful for his company, but could tell that he was just as tense about going in. Taking a deep breath, I went to turn the loose knob, expecting it to be locked, but the door budged and slowly creaked open.

A film of dust covered us as Will and I stepped through, and we found that the interior was dim. As the wind howled again, it seemed to force the door behind us, slamming shut. We jumped at the noise, and an eerie feeling billowed over us. A child-like giggle came from nowhere, and yet it echoed off of the rotting walls, and I gasped.

Will looked scared but I could tell that he was keeping calm for my sake. “How about we explore?” he suggested. I nodded and let him lead me from the entryway into the living room. The room had peeling, flaxen wallpaper, coated with dust and littered with cobwebs at every corner but we decided to keep moving. As we explored, things would seem to rise up as I walked and trip me. There would then not be anything there. Will asked what was wrong but I just muttered that I was being a lummox. He laughed and said that I was far from being stupid or clumsy and I blushed at his compliments. The rest first floor was much like the last room, dusty and full of cobwebs. I asked Will if he knew the history of this place, attempting to get my mind off of my nerves, and he nodded grimly. To my surprise, his family was one of the few founding families.

“Back before the town was actually founded, this area was an Indian village. Apparently, this hill was built on top of a graveyard. And, due to a terrible curse, this house could never be truly inhabitable.” I interrupted him and asked him about the curse. “This curse was brought down on this house by an Indian shaman,” he explained. “Until this place can find true love and contentment, none shall live here. So many people have come here trying to break this curse and make this place a home, but no one has been successful.” As he spoke of the history, I felt a force enter me and I was suddenly in the early 1700s.

‘In the distance there was the sound of drums, beating a haunting song that I instinctively knew to be the sound of war and danger. There were children huddling next to their mothers and elders. The men were preparing to defend the village. There was a faint smoke from the fires that had recently been put out. Then there was the sound of horses and a flash of fire. A boom sounded out and a woman screamed as her child was killed. A man turned toward me with a gun pointed at me and it was Will, yet not. He fired and then everything went black.’

I woke up to find Will kneeling over me, looking concerned. I was disoriented for a moment but when he asked what had happened I just shook my head. He didn’t look convinced but let it drop. He looked around as we were back in the entryway. “This place wouldn't be too bad with a little bit of remodeling.” I agreed with a weak smile and suggested that we look upstairs.

Will readily agreed and we headed upstairs. As we headed up there, I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye move but when I looked fully; there was nothing there. The upstairs was in better condition than the downstairs was. In fact, it looked almost cared for, which seemed queer for a house that was supposedly abandoned. I could smell leather and some sort of flower. Will didn't seem to notice, as I looked up at him for a response, but his eyes were blank and his face unmoving, making it hard to tell what he was thinking. There was a light behind a closed door, and we approached it with trepidation. I raised my hand to knock when the door opened on its own, and within the darkness a voice called out to us.

“Come in, children,” the voice said, distant and strangely calm. We looked at one other and shrugged, entering the dimly lit room. Old books shadowed the walls, their pages yellowing but their message timeless. Before us was a little old Indian woman, yet she wasn't quite normal. I stared at her until I realized that she was transparent, the light of the candles beaming through her translucent form. She seemed nonplussed by my staring, and gestured for us to sit down.

“Tell me, what do you know of this place?” She asked, turning in our direction, with eyes that seemed to look right through us. Will told her what he had told me earlier, and she shook her head sadly when he finished. “That is only part of the story. What the boy says is true but he is missing many essential parts of the tale. This was an Indian grave site, but one that was created when the white man killed many of our people. Men, women, young, old. I was the shaman's wife, and one of those who died by your ancestors' hand.” Will looked upset at this bit of information, but I was intrigued. I believed that I had seen the battle and the old woman gave me a knowing look. I had to wonder if she had sent me that vision.

“Yet there is hope,” the old woman continued. “Now, to undo my love’s curse, you must figure this out: ’where there was hate, there must love. And where there were two, there must be one.’” I turned to Will and he seemed just as confused. We turned to the old woman but she was gone. There was blast of cold and debris, making us close our eyes, and when we opened them, everything was cold and dark. The room was just like the one's downstairs.

“Well, you know my story. What do you know about your family history?” Will asked me as we exited the room, exchanging puzzled looks. I was adopted, but my adoptive parents told me that I was part Native American and that my tribe was from the area that we now lived in. When I finished, he looked thoughtfully out into the distance, and turned his head away from my questioning glance. We found a room on the bottom floor that was relatively clean, and decided to settle in it for the night. We talked about anything and everything, sharing lighter stories and laughs despite the gloomy environment. We were already really good friends, but this dare seemed to bring us closer. I fell asleep with my head on Will's shoulder.

It was a few hours later when a cracking noise woke us up and we saw the ceiling start to crack. We started to run out of the room when the wooded floor gave way underneath me. I managed to grab a piece of wood that was hanging out but my grip was loosening. I gave a shriek and a hand reached down and I grabbed it, holding on to it for dear life. It was Will and he pulled me up and held me steady while I let my heart rate slowdown. I stepped back to thank him when a sudden force gently pushed me back against him and I heard the child-like giggle. My heartbeat sped back up, but in a rather pleasant way. I tried to think of where I heard that giggle before, as it seemed familiar, but Will's lips were on mine, causing my mind to go pleasantly blank, and suddenly the darkness seemed to vanish around me. I realized what the ghostly woman spoke about earlier, and suddenly I giggled back at the once haunting laugh that echoed in the halls. I pulled away to tell Will and he seemed to come to the same conclusion since he gave me a grin and a nod. So that was what he was thinking about! In that moment, the air shifted and became less creepy and almost welcoming, like the shaman was inviting us to live there. Yet I never wanted to do something so harrowing again in my life.[/quote]


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