brg_admin | Sep 1, 2019 | 0
Library Youth Trick or Tweets Contest Winners! Tell a Scary Story in 15 Lines or Less
Middle School Winners
- 1st Place – Round of Applause by Aliyah Ndayishimiye, Grade 7
- 2nd Place – Hunger by Ronnie Irby, Grade 7
- 3rd Place – Triskaidekaphobia by Jason Keck, Grade 7
- Honorable Mention – Skull Island by Erica Ling, Grade 6
High School Winners
- 1st Place – The Fangs by Hayley Smith
- 2nd Place – Face to Face by Helena Khoury
- 3rd Place – The Shadow by Madeleine Herbst
- Honorable Mention – Hush by Kyra Stoiantschewsky
Round of Applause, by Aliyah Ndayishimiye, Grade 7
The last melancholy note of the song rang throughout the small, desolate apartment. James let out a soft sigh of relief, hands still delicately resting over the piano keys. He’d been working at that specific song for what’d felt like ages – trying to make every note as perfect as possible. He felt his lips curl into a tired smile. Not only had he finally finished his song, he was actually proud of his work. The sound of applause began to fill the apartment, and his smile froze on his face. Ice cold fear filled him, like he’d been doused in cold water. The clapping didn’t cease. James lived alone
Hunger, by Ronnie Irby, Grade 7
There is silence, only my feet touching the hard dirt. Nothing in the air, nothing prowling in the woods. What should be serene feels off somehow. The sky is gray, sad, motionless. I feel bleak and sucked of energy: I need rest. So I place myself onto a log. I am still, I cannot feel time pass. I cannot move or breathe. I can feel something behind me. It touches my back with something sharp, slicing the skin immediately. It burns like a thousand tiny fires, yet I cannot scream. I am alone, no one for miles. I can feel something long, warm and wet wrap around my neck. As I choke my vision is covered by something large and I am quickly devoured. My body is gone, but my drawstring backpack stands against the log, unmoved by time.
Triskaidekaphobia, by Jason Keck, Grade 7
I’ve always been afraid of the number 13. When I was younger, I went out Trick-Or-Treating on Halloween to 13 houses before getting sick. Later, when I got home, I realized that someone had stolen 13 of my favorite sour candies. A few years after that I saw a ladybug with 13 spots and that same day my mom got in a car accident. She had to make 13 payments for 13 months to pay for the damage. This year is going to be my 13th birthday on October 13. My friends try to convince me not to be afraid of the number 13; they say nothing is wrong and that I’m just being silly. I’m still dreading tomorrow because it will be 13 days away from my birthday. I decide to get some sleep, but the number 13 clogs my head. I wake up to a loud smash and the tinkle of shattered glass hitting the floor. It sounded like it was from the living room. I decide to hide in the warmth of my bed, but then I hear something coming up the 13 stairs that I always trip on. I wait breathlessly for what seems like forever, then something slowly knocked on my door 13 times…
The Fangs, by Hayley Smith, Grade 10
I didn’t see the fangs. How could I have seen them, considering there was a pretty girl standing right in front of me? Besides, no one ever looks at teeth, they always notice the eyes. What a pair of dazzling amber eyes! All I know was that a pretty girl had thought I looked lonely sitting in the back of the local café and decided to keep me company. I suppose I shouldn’t have followed her into that dark, deserted alley, but she told me it was a shortcut to her house downtown. I didn’t know any better, since I’ve only been in this city for a month. I had no reason to think it wasn’t a shortcut, that it was actually a dead end. I had no reason to think that cute girl would grab me by the throat and sink her fangs deep into my neck. I had no reason to think I would black out and wake up with blood crusted wounds. I just figured I was lucky to be alive. Sure, I felt a little different, like something wasn’t right. As I walked back to the café where I had met that lovely girl, I vowed never to be ensnared again by a pair of eyes. You should always look at the teeth. I stepped inside the café, and in the back of the place, I saw a girl around my age sitting at the exact table I had been earlier. If I was being honest, she reminded me of the way I looked before. Before all this happened anyway. I decided that this girl looked lonely and that she needed some company. When I managed to catch her eye, I smiled boldly. She smiled back, a little shyly. I guess she didn’t pay attention to my fangs.
Face to Face, by Helena Khoury, Grade 10
The club music is blaring in the background and a young girl no older than twenty-three stumbles into the bathroom. Clutching the door frame, her heavy breathing and panting can be heard. Mascara tears slice through her cheeks, cracking into her. Her words cannot be heard as she looks over her shoulder and back up at me. Caked under her nails was more than just the dirt from yesterday. Her blue bodycon dress slipping off her shoulder, its bright color muted by unknown stains. She drags her feet across the floor and her disheveled appearance became more spent to me. Her movements were slow and somber, as if she was confused and sad. She reaches the sink and twists the knobs right in front of me. Hot water blasts out, water too hot to touch, yet she holds her hand under the boiling water all the same. She scrubs her skin as if there were unfamiliar scales sprouting from her arms. I try to call out to her to stop, but like always, I can’t be heard. Her cries as her arms are scorched can be heard bursting through the thumping sounds of the club. As she scrubs under the scorching water, she tries to peel the invisible scales away from her skin. She digs her nails into nothing as she cries. The basin fills with red and chipped nail polish. A pretty girl no older than twenty-three looks up into me, but all she sees is a beast.
The Shadow, by Madeleine Herbst, Grade 10
“Sleep well.” Hopeless words, she thought; she knew well the night would be sleepless, like the last night, and years of nights before. Her guardian was out of sight, and she could do nothing to bring them back – the looming, inky darkness had already swallowed the door, and was creeping towards the side of her bed. She had endured years of the suffocating treatment, and yet she was still terrified every night. She hugged her knees to her chest as shadows pooled at the sides of her bed, creeping like ivy tendrils up her threadbare mattress. As one latched onto her, ripping again and again at the familiar scar wrapped around her ankle, she tried, as always, to scream: nothing came out. She choked as she tried to breathe, tears dripping slowly down her face. She tugged desperately at the pitch coil on her with no success as it dragged her to the floor. The sludge crawled up her limbs, and she sputtered and coughed as it got in her mouth. As she struggled, she saw the tall figure appear in the corner of the room. It always appeared at this time, and she flinched instinctively as it came towards her. It reached for her side, carving with a bony finger a piece of her flesh. Tears came as the wound began to bleed. As the figure and darkness faded, she sat, wondering if, and hoping that, this night would be her last. Slowly, she cried as she slipped into unconsciousness.
This contest was sponsored by the Beaverton Library Foundation. Visit us at www.beavertonlibraryfoundation.org