Middle School Announces Halloween Essay Winners

The entries (under anonymous identity) were reviewed by English teachers Nicole Camastra and Matt McMurray as well as selected students.

Sixth grade student Caroline Acker won first place for her story titled: “Reflection". Seventh grade student Alyssa Furie won second place with her story titled: “Molly”. Eighth grade student Kaleigh O’Leary won Honorable Mention with her poem titled: “Compilation of Scary Frights and Horrific Sights”.

To follow are the entries:

Reflection
Caroline Acker – First Place

Nessa Rames peered through the choking leaf canopy of Tyne Forest, where only scarce glints of moonlight could peek through the branches. The black oak and sycamore of the forest shimmered ethereally under the scattered patches of starlight. But Nessa couldn't be bothered with the looks of her surroundings now. She had to find the Verity Pool, and she had to find it soon.

"Um, Nessa?" Squeaked a small voice from behind her.

Nessa whipped around, scowling. Olivia Kovaks, her pallid skin glowing even paler in the silvered night, froze mid-step and cowered. And at the pudgy, pimple-riddled face of Nessa contorting with annoyance that was directed at someone like Olivia, who wouldn't?

"Shut up, Kovaks," snarled Nessa, her limp brown hair lashing against her cheek as she turned back ahead. Her grimy combat boots crunched against the brittle foliage that blanketed the ground as she set forward at a brisk pace. Hurrying to keep up with her companion's long strides, Olivia bravely persisted with speaking.

"But, I, uh—I just thought that with the full moon almost disappearing, maybe we should... uh, possibly head back?"
Irked, Nessa threw a venomous over her shoulder at Olivia. But quickly altering her demeanor, she purred, "Oh, you're not scared, are you? After all, they always said that the coward would be chosen for the sacrifice."

Olivia stifled a whimper at Nessa's malicious, sugarcoated face. "No, not at all, Nessa."

Triumphant, Nessa preceded forward into Tyne Forest. Privately, Olivia knew that this particular tale about the Verity Pool was one that her companion had made up on a whim, to scare Olivia. But she wasn't about to argue with Nessa.

Nessa really thought that all the lore and superstition that was tangled around the 'cursed' Verity Pool was just ridiculous lies used to scare the children of the town of Murdock. A wickedly-sharp dagger would supposedly materialize in the depths of the reflective waters if the Verity Pool reflected the full moon nine times across its surface. If two people approached the pond when it felt inclined to do this, one would see the pool as beautifully silver and be drawn in to touch it, while the other saw only inky blackness. The person who was mesmerized to touch the Verity Pool, once he or she did, would supposedly be 'possessed' by the malevolent spirit of Verity Sayre—the young woman who had been viciously murdered next to the pool she was eventually named for.

What rubbish.

Nessa finally came to a break in the thick canopy, where the full moon shown clearly and bleached everything below with its cold glow. And there, merely four steps away from Nessa, gleamed the Verity Pool.

The strangely unmoving surface was a swirling darkness, projecting no silver amongst the moonlit earth around it. A thick, heavy feeling of foreboding blanketed the whole clearing—just an urgent feeling of wrongness. The air was too cold, even for a chill October night like that one. Tendrils of gooseflesh prickled at Nessa's skin. Warm curlicues of breath fogged up in front of her, and all the warmth leached out of her even through her heavy army jacket. Nessa shook the feeling off—she was being stupid, there was no ghost of Verity Sayre.

The inky surface of the Verity Pool began to shimmer, the reflection of the sparkling stars and brilliant moon finally beginning to waver across the unfathomable canvas of black. She could hear Olivia gasp behind her, and even the breath caught in Nessa's chest. The reflection had begun to twist and writhe like tentacles... (sharp sparks of excitement shot through Nessa's frigid body—could it be starting to project nine moons? No, no, those legends weren't real...) Another reflection of the moon began to take shape on the pool, rippling outwards to form another... and another... (was that glint of metallic gray penetrating the several reflections of the moon the dagger, sunken to the bottom of the pool? Nessa internally berated herself for being so stupid...)

But, soon enough, there were in fact nine very clear moons depicted across the surface of the Verity Pool, and a metal dagger rested across the bottom of the now-transparent pond. And just a second later, the breathtaking image was disturbed by Olivia Kovaks—weak, unimportant Olivia Kovaks—plunging her clenched hand into the pool towards the dagger.

Nessa gasped as Olivia whipped toward her in a spray of numbingly-cold water droplets. Nessa tried to keep an offhanded expression settled across her face as Olivia approached her slowly, dagger in hand, and a strange, dark gleam staining her normally-blue eyes, but she was pretty sure a hint of fear showed through her mask.

"C'mon, Kovaks, quit acting like an idiot," Nessa scoffed at her through a film of clammy sweat.

Olivia's face hardened, and her fingers tightened around the hilt of the dagger.

"You," growled Olivia, her voice strangely high and whispery, like it was a phantom of what it used to be, "were nothing but cruel to me. You taunted me. You beat me up. Now you will pay!"

The blackness in her eyes seeped and whorled across her irises. She was really starting to freak Nessa out.

"Quit the games, Kovaks!" Nessa's voice unconsciously rose to a shout.

Olivia chuckled darkly, and she ran a finger along the honed blade of the dagger. Her features looked sharp and dangerous beneath the moonlight, and water still trickled from her sleeve up to her arm where she had gone in to seize the fabled murder weapon that killed Verity Sayre all those years ago. And suddenly, all around Olivia, the silver of the nighttime gathered around her, flowing into tendrils of white. It shaped itself into the ghostly frame of a young, hauntingly beautiful woman that twined around Olivia. Her mouth gaped in an eternal scream, and her eyes seemed to penetrate straight through Nessa. It was the spirit of Verity Sayre.

Slowly, the glittering figure of Verity uncoiled from around Olivia, who now had a frightening sneer twisting her mouth. The ghost's hellish face burned through Nessa's mind as it lunged toward her. Nessa, for possibly the first time in her life, screamed. The face was inside her, around her, screaming at her, whispering to her... it was enough to drive her mad. And she was so wrapped up in her mental breakdown that she was only vaguely aware of the curved tip of the dagger slicing through an artery in her neck, Olivia's crazed laugh, and the thing that used to be Nessa Rames bowing to death.

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Molly
Alyssa Furie – Second Place

Molly talked to ghosts. When she was feeling like life wasn't suiting her she would wander over to the neighborhood cemetery and talk to the regulars. They were usually old folk, who sat on the public benches, translucent and misty eyed. They sat enjoying the midsummer breeze talking and laughing about when they had lived. They liked to listen to Molly, so she told them about her worries and her complaints about Sunday family meals and how the park wasn’t open on Wednesdays. They never interrupted, which made Molly happy. Sometimes they got confused and Molly had to explain that the iphone was a portable telephone that you could play games on, and pringles were delicious chips which she much prefered over the regular potato kind. Molly also liked listening to their stories, especially the ones about how they died. They explained their gruesome tales of how they were shot during the revolutionary war, and dragged ten miles by their loyal steed only to die in their lover’s arms.

On this particular day, Molly’s little brother, John, had just broken her glass swan sculpture which was Molly’s favorite in her glass sculpture collection. She was heartbroken. So, she sprinted out the door of her house and down the road to the cemetery. Molly knew her parents assumed she was going to the park, and, though she hated lying to her parents, they had never asked where she went, so she never told them. When she reached the cemetery, she unleashed her anger on the ghosts. She yelled and yelled and kicked, though her foot only passed through their cloudy bodies. The old men laughing on the bench stopped laughing and looked taken aback. So did the women playing bridge on a table-like gravestone under a tree. Molly had never yelled at them before. They were her friends. They tried comforting her. The one closest to her reached out a hand to pat her shoulder.

“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!” Molly screamed. And she did something she knew she would regret. She kicked at a gravestone and crushed the flowers that had recently been placed there under her foot. She yelled at how unfair the world was and she pulled at her hair. Molly kicked another gravestone, and took a rock from the ground and threw it at another. The ghosts crowded around her, aghast at her behavior.

“How dare you!” a particularly short man squeaked. The ghosts started to change. Their teeth grew to sharp fangs covered in blood and flesh. Hair grew all over their bodies. They grew to twice their original size. The ghosts, Molly’s friends, were now her nightmare. Molly ran home crying and terrified. She hid under her covers. No. She realized. She wasn’t sad, or scared. Molly was madder than ever.

“Ugh!” she screamed and ran to her hamster cage. She took her beloved hamster and threw it out of her second story window. Molly imagined the pain it was in. How it would feel like it landed on a bed of nails when it hit the ground. She smiled and then went to bed.

The next morning was Monday and Molly’s mom woke her up early to get ready for school.
“Where's Joey?” She asked glancing at Molly’s hamster cage.

“Oh, she sleeps under the hay.” Molly replied, feeling no guilt at the lie. Molly and her brother John ate breakfast and Molly made sure to tuck the knife she had used to cut her toast into her bag, just in case the ghosts decided to followed her to school. Follow her they did. As Molly’s mom pulled the car out of the driveway, she could see two large bloody figures walking slowly towards them like zombies. Their noses spewed blood and their eyes bulged and in one hand, one carried a small creature, Molly’s hamster. She thought she could hear a faint voice saying, “come with us Molly, you must die.” Over and over again.

Molly put her head down onto the desk. She was the only student who was still working on the math test, and she just had one problem left. She just couldn’t figure it out. She stared out the window at the playground where three second graders were playing tag, and tried to remember if she should use point slope form or maybe slope intercept form. Molly was very frustrated. The three second graders stared at her through the window and laughed at her. They laughed that she couldn't complete one silly math problem. A second later they weren’t looking at her, they were playing tag like they didn’t even know she was there. No, they weren’t second graders. They were ghastly figures with long sharp nails and they floated in darkness. Suddenly, Molly had a terrible headache. Everything hurt. She felt like screaming. Molly thrust her test off her desk as her pencil tumbled to the ground. She didn’t know what made her do it. Molly ran out of the classroom, tears streaming down her face, but, as quick as they had come, anger replaced them. A little boy walked by clutching a hallway pass. Or was he a ghost. He was a monster with fangs and red eyes and he grew to twice his size. Molly pulled the knife out of her backpack. He, no it, was laughing, growing claws and scratching the side of the building. Molly, or maybe it, screamed. It was going to kill her! She felt a jolt of anger and panic and lunged at it with the knife. “Stop!” screamed the math teacher. Molly blacked out.

“I’ve never noticed anything strange.” Molly’s mom confirmed with tears running down her face.

“Witnesses report,” said the officer, “the girl holding a knife and scratching at the wall, laughing at a little boy. Then he screamed and she would have stabbed him if it wasn't for one of the teachers throwing a shoe at her. She will have to stay at a psych ward for a while.” Said the officer. “A psych ward?” Molly’s mom sobbed

Molly woke up in a small room with nothing but a bed and a small shelf for her belongings. She heard a lock being fiddled with and a women walked in carrying a tray of plain looking food and a plastic spoon.The women closed the door and supervised Molly as she ate her lunch. Molly took the plastic spoon and glanced at the women. As suddenly as a gunshot, Molly saw the ghost. She lunged at the woman's eyes with the end of the plastic spoon. As the women coward in pain Molly opened the unlocked door and ran out.
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Compilation of Scary Frights and Horrific Sights
Kaleigh O'Leary – Honorable Mention

I recall the stories told, the movies I've seen. I often encounter horror, possibly a killer with eyes brimming with a sort of hungry gleam.

I often think of Tarrytown, the Headless Horseman's ghoulish frown, once a Hessian troop who has now become widely renown.

A drowsy dreamy atmosphere, with evils lurking far and near. A quiet 1790's countryside with residents unaware of the horror the land has hidden, yet to provide.

An acclaimed narrator left to read "Forgotten Lore" on a December's night, shall soon be revealed to an irksome and disturbing fright.

A tapping at his chamber door, quote the raven nevermore!

The old man's vexing milky eye, had been the source of the narrator's desideratum for the amiable elder to come to die.

Redrum! Redrum! Be aware of this night. Redrum! Redrum! The dark replaces daylight.

Redrum! Redrum! Into the maze one shall enter. Redrum! Redrum! Pursued by a deleterious tormentor.

Woodsboro town, now plagued by a killer, had only one clue, no help and no fillers.

If caught by the ghostly face mask, you simply held one task. To stay alive, don’t fry your hide, yet a scream was the only thing one could confide.

When faced with an evil so complex, like a Jigsaw puzzle, there were those who sinned and were put to the test.

But yet after these stories I still recall, the strange real-live events pondered by all.

The sightings of killer clowns, hiding and lurking in neighboring towns.

The reports of those who sulk in the night, who remain hidden to provide a fright.

The callings of those who seem unarmed, who catch one in their web and cause unprovoked harm.

Or I simply remember a moment where I knew that something was not right, perhaps my eyes betrayed by a controversial sight.

Like the flickering glimmer of the lamp posts at night, letting the darkness take over to a powerful night.

Or perhaps I'm concerned by the howling of wolves at night, their cries being carried by a chilly breeze unto a distant site.

The knowledge of feeling a presence there, but turning around to see everything remains bare.

The fear of clowns, the fear to drown. The thought of being buried alive and concealed beneath the frozen ground.

On All Hallows' Eve one must prepare to endure quite a frightening scare.

But also remember, a compelling man once said that we have nothing to fear but fear itself, so do not fret if a ghostly presence is felt.

For amidst the mists and fiercest frosts, with bare wrists and stoutest boasts, he thrust his fists against the post, but still insists he sees the ghost.

As the Loser's Club demonstrated in Stephen King's "It", if you show not fear, the evil will not remain near.

I've recapped horror stories old and new, but I hope this idea remains with you. Don't get too close to the demons, or you just might find that you'll float too!