It was just another dull, boring, hot summer day. My parents are out of town on a vacation, without me. I am stuck at home watching my little sister. Our parents have only been gone for three days, and she is already driving me up the wall. She’s always bothering me when I’m on the phone, or doing stuff in my room, but worst of all is bed time. Maddie is thirteen and still afraid of the ‘monsters’ in her room. I’ve had to check her room so many times, due to her screaming bloody murder. Finally today is Friday night, and my parents will be home in a few hours. Maddie has been nagging me for two days non-stop. Thank you Elizabeth Taylor for having a party, I really need a break. I had just opened the door when my sister appeared at the top of the stairs in her jammies and giving me her famous death stare.
“Where are you going?” she asked in her quiet voice, which could have been confused for a whiny breakdown.
“Out. Don’t stay up late. You have my number in case of an emergency,” I said right before I closed the door and drove to Elizabeth’s. After a few hours of Elizabeth’s music I was ready to go back home. I pulled up in front of my house, only to see it shrouded in darkness, no light on anywhere in the house. I locked my care and went to the door.
“Maddie?” I called up to her opened window. As if the wind had blown harshly, the window slammed shut. I shrugged it off, she was always mad at me for something. I climbed the front steps and reached for the door. Another weird thing; the door was locked. I searched my purse for my keys, but ended up defeated. I pounded on the door for about five minutes until I remembered we had a hide-a-key rock somewhere. I located the rock and opened the door. The loud moaning creak of the door opening gave me a chill. As I entered I heard feet pounding on the floor above, in a rage I yelled up the stairs, “Maddie Jean! That was so NOT funny!” I turned my head so that I could look in the mirror which was right above a little table. I kicked off my shoes and they went clattering down the foyer in defeat. I saw something move in the corner of my eye, and my head jerked up. I shrugged after looking around and seeing nothing. I looked into the mirror and saw that something was there. My reflection stared back at me. I laughed nervously and looked down. I glanced in the mirror. A girl with blood-shot black eyes, deep gashes all over her face and arms, and translucent skin looked back at me. I stifled a gasp. That girl was me.

Ned was always a sensible charismatic well to do man. He lived a very fulfilling life, and went on to receive the most grand journalism reward ever given. He was born and raised in Philadelphia by an alcoholic father and an abusive mother. With a background such as that, his accomplishments are even more grand. Ned died Thursday at 7 P.M. by an oncoming car. He received a call from his bride to be, who left a message. After hearing that he started to walk toward a bakery, and received a call from hi best man. He was hit by a car. His memorial service will be held February 5th, 2009 at Saint Peter’s Church.
Written by; Matt Guyer.
“Matt, what is this?” Ned said throwing the obituary on a pile of articles. Matt looked up as he picked up the paper and began to read. “Is this your idea of a joke? Why print this Matt?”
“Who wrote this?”
“According to the bottom it was you!” Ned said his face growing hot.
“Look man, I didn’t write this. Just go home, we’ll find the culprit tomorrow.” Ned just nodded and walked slowly out the door to his car. He shook his head as if that would clear his thoughts and checked hi phone. Emily, his fiancé, had left a frantic message saying that she forgot to order the cake, and if he could run by the bakery because it was open late. Ned smiled and turned around, it was a nice night, it was only a block away. He put his keys into his pocket and started to cross the street. His phone rang, and he checked the caller id. It was his best man. Ned froze as he remembered the obituary, and hardly noticed the car that was speeding down the road.
-THE NEXT DAY-
“We are gathered here today for Ned Parthaglo. Ned was always a sensible charismatic well to do man..” The minister proceeded. In the back of the church Matt Guyer laughed quietly to himself.

A comic anime convention. Sounds lame right? I came by myself to buy my boyfriend his one month anniversary gift. It’s always so difficult to find something for him, but he mentioned liking this stuff so I thought I’d give it a try. Personally I like the romantic comedy anime, but he just likes the horror, all the others are pointless. So after two hours convincing myself I entered Vladimir’s Books of Terror. As I entered, I couldn’t help but notice the lack of people, but that didn’t make this place any less terrifying. All my life people have jumped out at me in the dark, screamed during the scariest parts of movies, and pretty much took it upon themselves to scare me whenever they saw a possibility. I took a deep breath and entered the tent like store.
“Velcome. This is Saint Vladimir’s,” a younger man with a strange foreign accent said. This man looked seductive, but only if you liked those types.. Fortunately for me I was happy enough with Jordan. Duh, he’s the reason I’m here in the first place.
“Can I help you vith something?” He glided behind me.
“Uh,” I stammered, “I’m looking for something really scary.”
“Vell then, you have come to the vright place,” he said flashing me a smile. This guy seriously needs to learn not to invade personal space. I can feel his breath on my neck, that’s how close he is. He handed me a vampire book, and gave me a hungry look. The main character was a handsome vampire named Vincent, who was constantly searching for a bride. He would never rest until he found his Monique. I thrust the book back into his hands.
“I don’t think so, it’s not very scary.” He smiled slyly and his fingers brushed my arm.
“Things aren’t always vat they seem Monique.”
-CENTURIES LATER-
A male teenager entered the Anime Convention looking for something to create nightmares. He stepped inside Vladimir’s Books of Terror.
“Velcome to Saint Vladimir’s,” Monique said with a smile.
-Written by Isabelle