Student Anthology--2007-2008
Hannah Blum
Eng. 102
29 October 2007
Poe-like story
Friends for Three Years
There once was a lady whose family was the richest
of the rich. They held a manor house just outside the city of
Philadelphia, and the walls of said manor were as old, if not more,
than the most ancient walls of the city of brotherly love. The lady
herself was beautiful, smart, and loved by all. Her golden hair flowed
down her back like a ray of sunshine that fell from the sky, and her
gray eyes were like the sky above the ocean after a storm. She was my
best friend, and I was hers. Our intellect was matched, but her beauty
outshone mine like pure gold and a simple garden rock. This fact did
not affect our friendship, but I was often jealous, I must admit. For
now, however, I shall put away my jealousies, and tell you the story of
her tragic and gruesome death as I saw it.
The day of her death we had shopped together, and I had taken her home.
Our friendship had been fun and carefree from the beginning. We had
meet when the fever had taken hold of us, and we had been quarantined.
That was three years ago. After we had fought and won against the
terrible sickness, the lady got me a job with her family as a maid.
That very night I dreamt of the end of her. My psychic abilities are poor, but this dream was so real:
As the howling of wind and beast overtook the night, my young friend
was home alone. Her parents had left for the evening and the lady,
noble in heart and soul along with her other attributes, had no company
except for the trusty German Shepard that always slept at her feet.
With the merry fire burning in the hearth and an adventure in her
hands, the lady settled down for a warm but lonely night. But alas!
“What is that?” the fair lady cried, as wolves howled
around her vast manor house. She rang for the butler, whom assured her
that she was in no danger and her huntsmen were taking care of the
problem.
The lady settled back into her
book. As soon as she was thoroughly submerged into the tale, she heard
her name being called faintly. The butler did not answer his summons,
so the lady got up, put down her book, and began to look for the source
of the mysterious callings. The lady and her faithful dog made their
way through the crumbling manor. Room by room, they searched and
searched for the source. Oddly, the house was empty with no servants
about doing late-night cleaning. My friend then heard her name again,
louder this time. She was at the top of the stairs in the great hall.
The lady noticed the front door of the house was open. As she looked
down to the foot of the stairs, my friend gasped as she saw the blood
and bodies of her beloved butler and brave huntsmen strewn across the
floor of the great hall. The lady looked up and out into the darkness
of the night. Many pairs of yellow eyes glowed back at her. Before the
lady could even scream, the wolves attacked her. Soon the lady’s
blood joined that of her servants.
I awoke in a cold sweat after I dreamt this. The
bodies were found the next day by the parents of my dear friend. I was
notified and I rushed to the manor house. I was astonished that the
body of my friend was not with the rest. When I asked why this was, my
friend’s parents looked at me like I was insane. Perhaps I was.
They told me not to be foolish and to get cleaning. “You are just
a maid, and have no importance. You know very well our daughter died of
the fever three years ago,” said the father. This sent my world
spinning. I fell down in a faint. How could my best friend been dead
for three years but I had seen her just yesterday?
Ellie Moen
102
Poe-like story
10-29-07
Shadow of Death
Sitting in my room was no big deal to me before,
until this night. Usually after school I would just go to my
school activities and then go home and do my homework, but yesterday I
had to walk home.
It was a cold night. The night was very dark yet it
was only seven o’ clock. I always hated walking home alone in the
dark for my street wasn’t well lit and it was always dark, for
the trees locked out any light that I could see. The whole time I
was walking home I felt like I was being followed but I kept giving my
mind reasonable explanations for the actions. I thought I heard someone
walking behind me, but every time I would turn around no one would be
there. I just said it was the leaves blowing in the wind. For some odd
reason though as soon as I could see the light of my old fashion
Victorian house I started out at a dead sprint for everything I heard
started to move faster, and get closer.
CRASH, goes my front door.
As soon as I got in my house I just felt a good
feeling of relief and reassurance. When I got in I saw that all
the lights in my house where off because of my dad was sleeping and he
didn’t want to be disturbed. So I slowly walked all the way
to my kitchen and turned on the light and went downstairs in the
basement where my bedroom was. Once again though I felt like I was
being watched so I quickly ran to my room through my beads and on to my
bead and took a giant breath to calm me down.
After I was settled down I got in my book bag and
took out my homework, went to my desk, and started on it. First I
worked on my math which took the longest. After I was done with my math
I was extremely tired and could hardly keep my head from falling to my
bosom. Still though I had to read my story in English, no matter
how tired I was. As I was reading I saw shadows come behind me
and it felt like a cold draft touched my frightened skin. I once again
though thought up reasonable explanations to these weird coincidences.
Later in the night though as the story I was reading grew closer to the
end more weird things started to happen. I was getting a lot colder; I
kept seeing the same shadow, and the beads to get in my room kept
rattling. I soon was getting all dizzy and I thought I heard a door
open, like the one that leads to my basement from the outside, and then
I seem to as fallen into a heavy sleep.
In the dusk of the morning as my alarm went off I
looked to my floor and nearly screamed, for the figments of my
imagination where laying on the ground dead, next to me.
Monica Jarboe
English 102
10/30/07
Poe-like story
The Shattered Window
Although everyone will think me insane, I know I am
not. The fantastic events I am about to relate to you truly took place.
I was sitting home alone in my parlor while a storm
raged outside. Though I was trying to read by candlelight, I could not
advance farther in my volume. My mind kept meandering back to that
horrifying tragedy six months ago.
My friend and I had been out hunting, hiding in
separate locations. Thinking him an animal, I shot him. It went
straight through his heart, killing him instantly. I was, of course,
distraught, but told no one what had occurred. Though I tried time and
again to ease my sorrow and suffering with opium, I became increasingly
depressed each day.
That tempestuous night, something terrifying took
place. Rain attacked the roof and window with a vengeance, while
lightening flashed and thunder resounded close by. All of a sudden, a
slight, icy gust of wind blew through the partially opened window, and
the candle was extinguished. The room was pitch black when I heard a
slight rustling, as if a gentle breeze was stirring tree leaves. There
was a vivid flash of lightening, and in that horrific instant, a sight
met my eyes that chilled me to the very core of my being. For in that
instant, outlined in the window, was the hazy, faint form of my
deceased friend, his eyes burning red, and his hand slowly reaching out
for me.
Quite mad with fright, I drew my dagger and lunged
at the ghastly phantom. I felt a sharp pain and heard a deafening
crash. All went dark and silent.
I later woke up in a bed with my neighbor, a doctor,
close at hand. He had found me on the ground amidst the shards of my
shattered second-floor window after the storm and had brought me to his
house to care for my wounds. The doctor thought me quite fortunate to
have sustained as few lasting injuries as I did, though I would have
welcomed death. Naturally, he inquired as to how I had managed to fall
out of the window, but I refused to tell him, for he would have had my
locked up in an asylum.
Though the specter of my friend is not now troubling
me, I know he is out there somewhere, waiting for me still.
Melanie Jarboe
English 102
Sonnet
12/19/07
Macaroni and Cheese
I knew that when I reached the age of ten,
I'd have to learn the trick to making roast.
I'd learned to cook by watching Uncle Ben,
But all I knew was how to make some toast.
My dad said I was hopeless and would fail,
No man would ever want to marry me.
I could go to work instead at county jail,
But I knew I was good, just wait and see.
One day as I was thinking of my poodles
I got so lost in my own hopeless dreams,
I dropped a bunch of cheese into my noodles.
Oh my! I'd made a mess, or so it seems.
The ones who doubted me I like to tease
For now I am the Queen of Mac and Cheese!