Old Sportliterary magazine

October/November 2012

Faculty AdviserLindsay Green

The Old SportsBrie WilliamsGabi FisherSam StanderferMariah SchaeferMariah SchaeferFernanda SchaeferMeridian RubyBrittany BrownNina HopkinsMegan WolterJacqueline Corum

Published with help by:Published with help by:issuu.com

wordpress.comThe Centennial English Department

Old Sportliterary magazine

Table of Contents

“Resurrection” Meridian Ruby Best Poem – 1st

“Story for the End of the World” Brie Williams Best Short Story – 1

Place

st

“The Rise” Jennifer Hong Best Poem – 2

Place

nd

“Candle Wax” Kareem Al-Qadi Best Short Story – 2

Place

nd

“Black Bird” Andrea Cunningham

Place

“Blank” Aashika Ashok “Real” Fredes Ebes

“Curiosity” Kayva Deevi

1

“Resurrection” Meridan Ruby Winner 1st

Place Best Poem

A wrinkled face wades through the canopies

As jewels circle the drain Waiting patiently

For the silence to come. For the thick comforter of numbing white. With words pure as gold, Lips red as rubies She watches with a wandering eye as Hair turns to spider webs and Bones held in place by tissue paper

Slip underneath the siren covers Yet she is not empty within,

Her mind is saturated with the rising sun, Not the imbrued sunset up ahead.

Waiting patiently

To slip away into the night. To be reborn again.

2

“Story for the End of the World” Brie Williams Winner 1st

Place Best Short Story

I awoke to an eerie quiet, the familiar hum of the fan was gone. My muscles ached and screamed out as I stretched them. The darkness seemed to surround me, weighing on my chest. My lungs felt deflated and pain shot through my throat. I shifted my feet to the floor and stood up, only to be knocked back again by what seemed to be an invisible gust of wind. I drug my hands over my face, knocking small crystals of ice from my lashes. The smell of flowers, sickeningly sweet, swept over me, burning my nose. I stood again and fighting off the icy wind, lurched towards the door leaving a trail of frost in my path. I swung the door open and the wind halted.

Staring from the other side of the threshold was a young girl. Her face was swollen and her charcoal coloured eyes glistened in the darkness. An almost maroon coloured thick and sticky liquid fell from her arms, while her teeth shone through the dark, sharpened to a point. Her hand slowly reached for mine, but before I could escape, her teeth plunged through the flesh of my arm and the warmness of my blood trailed to the floor. The air was ripped from my chest and her nails dug into my back. The invisible wind thrashed around me, knotting my hair and curtaining my face. What felt like fire coursed through my veins and scorched every muscle.

My eyes snapped open only to be greeted by the sun. As I sucked in a breath of air, needles seemed to push through my lungs. I clutched my chest as my mind raced to connect the dots; I was in a field. A soft breeze danced through the air. Leaves, coloured as if they had been toasted, performed a marvelous ballet between gusts and the grass, sparkling from dew, swayed along. The sun was warm against my face and as I sat surrounded by the trees, calmness covered me like a quilt. Birds sang a lullaby in the distance and with a breath my eyes drifted shut. My muscles were stiff, as if made of stone, but the desire to move coursed through them like electricity. A lake snaked its way through, between the trees; the surface glittered in the light, as if inviting company- practically calling my parched throat over.

“It’s time.” The voice behind me was raspy and dry, and almost pleading. I threw myself forward onto my feet and turned back to face the young girl. I opened my mouth hoping for words, but got only a small screech, my throat and mouth as dry as the Sahara. The mind reeled, searching for anything to make a connection. “Eighteen years I waited.” As she spoke a jester like smile danced across her face. My

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knees buckled, it felt as if fire coursed through my muscles, burning stronger with each breath.

The sound of bones crushing echoed through the small field as her foot made contact with my ribs. The wind ripped through my shirt as I flew back into the trees. As soon as my back collided with the bark she was inches from my face. Her breath smelled of rotting flesh and dried blood caked her teeth. Her nails carved into my cheek as she began to speak. “You don’t know who you are do you?” Her lips curled upwards at my obvious confusion. “You’re the sacrifice.” As she spoke wings erupted from her shoulders, made of bone, and dripping blood. Her tongue lapped over the cuts on my cheek before throwing me to the ground.

The trees around us erupted into an ocean of fire and before I could catch my breath she was over me again, her foot digging into my already crushed ribs. My arms and legs pushed against the ground as I tried to get away, all in a fruitless effort. Her shriek of a laugh rang through the field as my lungs fought against the force of her foot. She pulled away only to pierce the soft skin of my belly with the tip of her wings. An eruption of light escaped the wound and blood poured into the grass, leaving a trail of blue flames. My vision began to falter and the other wing carved away a piece of my throat. Unable to breathe, I choked on the blood streaming from the wound and coughed up fire the colour of the lake.

Her smile grew wider and fangs jutted from her mouth. “No hard feelings? I didn’t want to kill you, but, you know- an order is an order. Besides one life to continue Earth seems fair, don’t ya think? I’d hate for everyone to die because you thinks it’s not fair.”

Just then the lake began to stir. The water turned the colour of blood. Waves, growing in height, crashed against the bank. A stone slab rose from the bed and above the thrashing water. I was ripped from the ground by her claws and she threw me onto the stone. My spine slammed against it, causing a crack to slither down the middle of the slab, as my screams pierced the air. My arms and legs sprawled over the rock and I tried desperately, but with no success, to move. A snap sounded from across the clearing, the grass was now ablaze, and one of the charred limbs was now in her hands. Before I could close my eyes she drove the limb into my chest, piercing me to the rock. My lungs filled with air only to deflate due to the hole now decorating them. A smile danced across her face as the life faded from my face. I stopped fighting and let go.

4

“The Rise” Jennifer Hong

Winner 2nd

Place Best Poem

Glass shatters and falls a baby crying, not knowing who to call. As the crying ceases, he listens to the air, there is a chill coming up, o-beware. As a silver sliver drifts through the window, a pacifier falls… silence… As lightning cracks through the sky, the baby sits and watches-but does not cry. The sliver of silver starts to form. A ghostly man representing thee- is about to break all tranquility.

5

“The Candle Wax” Kareem Al-Qadi

Winner 2nd

It was a cold and dark night. The old man was walking down the newly paved street. But yet, it still had cracks and dents in it. Rain was pouring down, and lightning started to flash, lighting up the once dark sky for a moment. There was no one in the street, only the old man and his cane. He limped slowly, using the cane for support, down the street. More lightning flashed and the rain came down harder. The old man felt his head, as if just realizing it was raining. He put the newspaper he was holding over his head, and he started limping a little faster. The newspaper got soaked quickly though, and the water started dripping onto his head shortly after. The man knew he couldn’t stay outside much longer; a man of his age couldn’t be out in the cold for long without becoming sick. And being sick when you are as old as he would be very bad.

Place Best Short Story

The old man looked around for a building, but there were none. There may have been one behind him but because of the darkness, he didn’t see any when he turned around to search for shelter. When he looked ahead, lightning flashed again, and he caught a glimpse of an outline of a very big structure. He started to limp down the enlarged road, and he made his way to the building. He could hear owls hooting; he knew it must’ve been very late. The old man wouldn’t have even been there if the bus driver hadn’t kicked him off the bus, just because it was the last stop. Have some compassionate for an old timer! But nothing he could do about it anymore. The old man lifted his head and looked at the edifice ahead of him. As the lightning flashed again, he could see that this was no ordinary construction, it was a manor. The man approached the mansion cautiously, and he came to a halt in front of the gates. He stared at the gate. It was rather soaring and spacious. The mansion itself however, had no luminosity emerging from it, as if the entire mansion was lifeless. Thunder boomed and the old man flinched, as if someone had startled him. He knew, of course, that he was being ludicrous however, whoever was in there was most likely a welcoming man, and would invite him inside his house. The old man lifted up a hand and laid it on the gate. He barely pushed the gate, and yet it creaked open until it had reached the end of the hinges. The man looked at the elongated pathway that concluded at the entrance to the enormous structure. He began to limp down the path, and the rain continued to pour down. The man was getting soaked, but he knew his troubles would end once he reached the door at the end of the trail. He reached the steps that led up to the door. The old man stopped and took a glance up. The mansion was vast and colossal. The roof had golden shingles, but they somehow looked dull and dark in the rain. All the windows were closed, and the house itself looked uninviting. But the house didn’t make the man, as did neither did the clothes. The old man stepped up the stairs and he eventually reached the door. He felt as if he had accomplished a goal, although to a young and healthy man, this journey would have taken no less than two

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minutes, while he had wasted ten minutes of his life making this journey. He rose his hand and extended one long, wrinkly finger. He rested his finger on the doorbell, and using more energy than a normal person would have, pressed on the doorbell. Nobody responded.

But the old man was patient, and he waited. Besides, he had no where left to go, and it was too late to leave now. Even if it took the man five minutes to answer the door, he would still see the old man limping down his pathway to the gate. Oh how he wished he was young! The old man waited, and he rested his shoulder against the wooden door. The door slowly creaked open, and the man lost his balance for a second, then regained control. He stood up straight, and took a look inside the house. No one was there, meaning no one had opened the door for him. The house was even darker and unattractive from the inside than from the outside. He eyes swept across the room once more, and he took notice of more things. There were numerous cobwebs inside the house, mostly on the furniture and in the corners. There was also a great amount of dust suspending in mid-air. The old man wondered if anyone had lived there for years. Either that or the owner needed a maid.

“My, what a foul house indeed,” the old man stated rather quietly, as if the landlord was close to him. The old man placed his foot onto a cobweb, crushing it. The door closed behind the old man, and a last breeze of cold air rushed into the room, before it was thrown into pitch-blackness.

“I say, what is going on around here! I demand the owner divulge them self immediately,” the old man stipulated in a loud but quivery voice. When no one responded, the old man began to tremble. He would not deny it, he was petrified. His weak old heart felt as if it were about to stop. He wished he could sense the door; he would open it and exit the dreary house, and never return. But there was hardly a chance of that happening, the old man couldn’t see his own hand, no matter how close it was.

“Well, I’m in quite a predicament here,” the old man grumbled to himself, wishing at least someone, anyone was with him, sharing his fear. His ears perked up as he heard the faint sound of something dropping, then rolling. Unexpectedly, a faint light appeared from what seemed like nowhere. It became bigger, until the old man found where the source was coming from. It was something rolling down the hallway towards him. He picked it up, and felt something hot melt onto his finger. Wax. He immediately knew what he was carrying. It was a candle.

Now the entire room was filled with brightness, and the old man could see the area better. He looked to the side of him, and his eyes lay upon an open door, leading to another chamber, a much for spacious one than the one he was currently in. The old man began his walk to the door. The old man later realized that this was the same

7

chamber door that the candle rolled through. Someone else must be in the manor with him. The old man raised the candle a little higher and ventured with shaky legs into the corridor.

He stuck his hand clutching the candle tightly into the room first, engulfing the entire space in a bright glow. The old man once again, swept his eyes across the area, praying that if someone was in the room, they would not have property of a gun or knife or anything that could be used for harm. But the room appeared to be empty. And there were no exits from the room besides the one in which the old man was standing in. The old man quivered, as he began to suspect spirits, haunting him. The thought of running appeared on the surface of his brain, and so he did. By means of the candle, the old man tried to scurry out of the room, and out of the dark mansion. But alas, because of his old age, all he could manage was a limp. If he had been a younger and more fit man, he would have been able to escape the manor. Oh how he wished he was young! He tried to swipe his cane at the ghostly monsters, but unfortunately, his arms were too feeble to lift his cane up high enough so he could swing it. Oh how he wished he was young! The old man knew he would be no match for whatever evil lurked in this house, possibly even in this room. Oh how he wished he was young! He had many diseases, and wouldn’t even be a fight for whatever was after him. Oh how he wished he was young. Oh how he wished he was young. Oh how he wished he was… Oh how he wished he… Oh how he wished… Oh how he… Oh how… Oh… …

An intensely burning heat fell onto his wrist, and the old man dropped the candle, startled. He examined his wrist, and discovered that is was merely a little bit of candle wax. A tad bit hotter than before, but not bad enough to burn him. The old man’s wrist felt raw and scratchy, but that was nothing compared to how his body felt. It felt better. It felt as if those headaches the old man constantly had were finally vanishing. And as if those flimsy arms of his grew a little more meat on them. And as if a little of his hair grew back. The old man was mystified; he felt great for the first time in years! He ignored his wrist, and did a little jump. He jumped at least a foot high, and when he landed, his ankles didn’t crack or break or even hurt at all. In fact, they felt better, as if they needed a little exercise. The old man laughed merrily, than jumped up and tapped his two heels together. He laughed again, his face radiating with a happy glow. The old man lifted up his cane above his head, and threw it a few feet away from him. He took a shaky step forward, with no assistance of his cane. Then he took another, a little bit more sturdy and firm, until he was walking normally.

The old man’s eyes fell upon the candle, like a reflex. He stared at the candle. When the wax had fallen, he seemed to have lost five years of his life! He felt as if he were seventy again, when really he was seventy-five. The old man decided to wait until a little more wax fell. After around five minutes passed, another drip of candle wax fell to the floor. The old man watched it fall. But he didn’t have to. He immediately felt a

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change the instant the wax fell of the candle. More of his hair grew back, and his nasty cough that he had for years, magically disappeared. His back became more straight, and he could jog a little without falling of getting tired. He gained some muscle, and his arms grew bigger. Some of his wrinkles went away. If the old man’s prediction was correct, then he would be sixty five years old right now. He still didn’t feel perfect, but he was a lot better than before.

The old man let out a chuckle, a jogged around the room for a little. He did a little dance in the middle of the room, and another drip of wax must’ve fallen while he was dancing, for immediately he felt more energetic, and his tiredness from dancing vanished. The old man glanced at the candle, lying on the flooring, and sure enough, there was an additional puddle of melted wax alongside it. The old man smiled again. Of all people, he would stumble upon the candle! How fortunate! However, the wax appeared to be falling more rapidly now. The old man took notice of that, but he decided to ignore it after he felt another miraculous burst of energy flow through his body.

If the old man was accurate, than he would be fifty five years old now, twenty years younger, and not technically considered old anymore! The man let out a cheer and he ran to the wall of the room, jumped, placed his feet on the wall, and jumped off. He landed on his hands and did a flip, landing on his feet. He laughed again.

“I have never felt like this! It’s like I have discovered a magical candle! Oh my, this is the greatest day of my life! My life finally has interest, and I have something to live for! I’m not old anymore!” the man cried, and he began to weep contentedly. The man looked up just as another bundle of wax plummeted to the ground. The man greeted the new energy happily, and immediately put it to use. He ran across the room, which was bare except for a table, and jumped up high enough to land on the table. He crouched down, and then jumped as high as he could and did a flip, landing on both feet in unison, and his arms raised. He hooted excitedly multiple times, and cackled louder when another pack of energy came into his body. His hair was fully grown back now, he had absolutely no wrinkles anymore; his back was perfectly straight, and his muscles were huge and rock-hard. He was now forty five years old according to the man’s thought of five years taken off for every drop of wax.

After ten minutes, the man was twenty years old, and still with every drop of wax, de-aging. The man was still laughing and testing out how much energy he had. But after another drop of wax fell, the man comprehended his situation, and came to the conclusion that after three more puddles of wax were formed, he would be zero years old. The boy was now fifteen years old, and getting younger quickly. The wax was falling much quicker now, and the candle stick was almost gone. The boy tried to press his finger against the wax, so it wouldn’t fall off the candle, but he only accomplished burning his finger. The wax fell, and the boy could feel his muscles

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going away, and his height, his hair, and his abs. The boy was only ten years old now, only two more drops to go. The boy took his shirt off, and wrapped it around the candle, desperately pleading for the wax to remain on the candlestick. But alas, the wax somehow managed its way through the maze of fabric and ended up on the floor. The boy felt himself become a puny person again, and short. His teeth were small and his cheeks were round. His heart was small but full of fear of what was about to happen. He could picture the cruelty of it all. The wax falling, him disappearing into an eternal darkness that would only expand, with no way to exit. The wax rolled on the side of the candle, and the kid did nothing to stop it this time. The wax fell of the candle, and the kid lost five years of age.

The toddler closed his eyes and waited to die, but when he opened his eyes, he still could distinguish the bleak, dark, vacant room. He was still alive! The youngster pondered on the question of how he was still living, and then came upon a conclusion. He was seventy five years old and four months. So now he must be four months old! But there was no time, another bead of wax appeared on the border of the candlestick, and began to slither down the thin cylinder.

Suddenly, an idea formed in the kid’s head. An idea so simple, so undemanding, so effortless, that it had to work. But the boy didn’t have much time. The globule of wax was almost at the rim of the candle. He took a deep breath, and blew out the flame.

*Plop*

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“Black Bird” Andrea Cunningham

No one would think to pass the Black Bird’s hollow, With wicked witches And ghosts that follow. No one would think to pass The Black Bird’s cave, With vampires and zombies Who will rise from the grave. No one would think to pass The Black Bird’s lair, With spiders that crawl And eyes that glare. No one would think to pass The Black Bird’s town, With men running wild And trees cut down. No one would want to pass The Black Bird alone, For if you do, Your worst horrors will be shown. No one would think to read The Black Bird’s poem, Oh, you don’t know why? Well sure, I’ll show ‘em.

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“Blank” Aashika Ashok

Nothing runs through the mind, feels empty, nothing to bind. No one around, it’s so scary, just some goats and a cow, for some dairy. Ghosts appear on the walls, slithering, moving, across the dolls. Bats fly in and send a chill. Don’t say a word or shrill. Something sweeps across your toes, then up and down scraping your nose. Tightness rises in the air. The smell, the taste, the knell, the waste, the chair tips with you in your haste. The cows in the barn are crying, and the sun is always dying. Nothing runs through the mind but ghosts, you will always find.

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“Real” Fredes Ebes Day: 18 Month: October Year: XXXX Today I met a lady with white hair, yesterday it was a talking crow, and the day before a pumpkin man. It's strange to think our town is going to survive after those pesky tourists kept taking pictures. Now that I think about it, they might even ruin the town itself. Who knows what humans can do; after all they don't understand that we just want to live by ourselves. We only want to not be tortured by mobs or even experimented by those scientists. Of course we have our variety of werewolves and also Vampires, there's also count Dracula which of course was supposed to be dead...I wonder if he used his black arts to revive himself. Well I guess I can find that out later, now I have to tend to the others hurt by silver bullets and whatnot. Mika is a 15 year old girl living in a town of monsters. She helps the injured and usually has to walk long distances to meet her clients. Today she's walking to count Dracula's castle for a daily check-up. She smiled as the usual trees greeted her with those creepy smiles along the way. "Morning darling~" A woman with snakes on her head said. "Good morning miss medusa," Mika said and smiled. She usually avoids the woman's eyes since she herself might be turned to stone. "If the count's bothering you be sure to call me 'kay?"She asked with her sweet smile, Mika nodded and said thanks before continuing on to her usual path to the castle. After an hour's hike up a huge cliff, Mika finally arrived at Dracula's front door; she knocked on it and waited. "Ah Mika!" A familiar voice said. She sighed and opened the door without even saying anything. "Count don't hide," She said and smiled. "Your daily check-up won't hurt...That much." "Ah but being almost killed with a wooden stake hurts the most," the voice said. "Just be careful when going around, it seems that I set loose some dolls in the house." "I will," she said and shivered. As a little girl, she had encountered them in a horrible way; it had been the minatoar that had been there to save her. She continued to walk in and up the stairs when she heard singing and a little girl's laughter. "Mika let's play~" A little girl's voice said out of nowhere. "Play, play~" Mika shivered and felt the hairs behind her neck stand up, she kept on walking keeping herself alert in case any of the dolls attacked her. "London Bridge is falling down, falling, falling down," some little girl sang. The song echoed through the empty hallways of the castle. Mika frowned; she had always hated that song, because in their version they always sang about the bridge being built by human bones and flesh. Mika kept on walking and tried to hide her fear, she was used by the nasty tricks that the count had set up for her but now this was taking things too far. "Build the bridge with flesh and bones, flesh and bones, flesh and bones," The voice sang. It now sounded like a monster with the voice deepening its tone. "Play!" The now deepened voice said and a doll appeared out of the shadows. In its zombie like walk, it went towards Miki who was too afraid to scream. To her horror, the face of the doll started to melt revealing human flesh in its worse form. The blood oozed out of its eyes slowly and it grinned in an evil way. "You never did escape us," the doll said. Blood poured from its mouth and its dress was torn and bloody.

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Miki slowly back away as it made its way towards her opening its mouth revealing sharp teeth that could kill a person. In the doll's hand was a human hand, it was still fresh and oozing out blood. "Let's play and we will do it forever and ever and ever," the doll said in her little girl's voice. Worms were starting appear out of the ground, this might have angered the count if he wasn't so busy doing his usual paperwork. Each worm grew and green slime was on its skin oozing out, its mouth became a round of razors. "G-get away!"Mika screamed, she was backing away even more this time to the wall. "We want to feed," the doll said. "The count has kept us away from those human tourists, now we want flesh to build our bridge." "I believe that would be impossible to finish my dear girl," The count said. He was leaning on the doorway leading to the tower. His arms were crossed and he looked really pissed. "Your pathetic really once we finish the bridge then we can invade the humans!" The doll said in anger. "You are the fool," the count said and smirked. Mika also smirked, her eyes began to turn blood red and she also grew fangs. "I-impossible!" The doll said as it watched her turn into a vampire. Mika walked up to the doll slowly and grinned evilly. "Don't underestimate me you fool," she said. "Humans may have hurt us but now they believe that we don't exist anymore meaning many years of peace to come." She grabbed the doll's head and slowly squeezed it, the doll cried in pain. It howled as Mika's grip became stronger and the worms begin to shrink and return to normal. "You’re no better than them," Mika said and smirked. "After all if you hurt the humans then you would be forsaking those humans who made this safe haven for us." She crushed the doll's head and it exploded sending blood in all directions, the blood then turned into maggots and then into dust. "Ugh spoiled blood," Mika said in disgust and went back to her normal form. "Count, let's get started on your check-up shall we?" "My pleasure," the count said and walked up to her and kissed the back of her hand. Day:19 Month: October Year:XXXX Well I got home and I'm still tired, I got out my blood pack and ate my fill. Those dolls are still creepy after all those years. Well looks like I need to take another trip to the human world, I will need my black long coat and hat. The sun still stings once in a while, I also saw some trailer about a movie about vampires. I was laughing like crazy, they think that vampires sparkle in the sun?! That's hilarious and also impossible, oh how I love to see their imaginations run wild. Maybe I should also visit slender man but he might be running around to who knows where so I might not visit him. Anyway I'm also going out to see if the headless horseman isn't doing one of his old tricks again like he did with the other guy...man I had to erase his memory and let him live somewhere else....poor guy. I should also check the haunting rates for the ghosts since too much haunting might result in out haven being destroyed...I have a lot to do today so I might as well try seeing if I have some free time later today. Hollows eve is getting close, I can't wait to see those cute kids dress up as monsters and demand candy, such a cute tradition that humans have. Mika smiled as she entered the human world; there were a lot of people talking through their phones.

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"Same as usual I guess," She whispered to herself. She saw the hospital and decided to go there first to get some blood packs, she was running out of them by now. Thankfully the humans who built their haven also gave them cards that can make them access the blood packs in the hospital but only limited amounts. Mika smiles as she showed my card to the doctor who led me to a room full of blood packs. "Miss please do not get the blood packs that are labeled since they are going to be used for surgery," the doctor said. "I won't," she said happily and took the ones that I knew were okay for me to take before going out again and thanking the doctor. She went back home again with a content look on my face as she put the blood packs in a special container so it won't spoil. "Mika you have mail," A voice called out from outside her home. Mika opened the door and smiled gently. It was the ghost mailman, he handed her the mail and she thanked him. She sighed and saw that the mail was from her aunt in England. "Not again," She said and packed her bags. Her aunt was one of the monsters who wanted to co-exist with the humans. She wanted Mika to visit her right now and also stay with her for a few days. Mika left the mail unopened and sent one of her bats to leave a note for all of her clients. She got her stuff and went out again to the human world and into England. There she arrived at the front of her aunt's apartment. "Pesky cameras..."Mika whispered as she uneasily glanced at one of them. They were everywhere in London, where her aunt had decided to live. As always, her aunt opened the door with a huge grin on her face, she looked like a 27 year old woman but was much older than that. "Mika, what a delight," She said. "Hans this is Mika, my niece." "Nice to meet you,” Hans said and smiled a bit. He looked nervously at Mika who just shrugged and walked in as if this wasn’t a surprise at all. Mika’s aunt sighed and told her that she would stay with them until she had finished one semester of school. “I don’t want you anywhere near your friends,” Mika’s aunt said. “No midnight snacks too.” “Fine,” Mika said and inwardly groaned. She had always hated her aunt’s personality and it was a pain to try to fit in with the regular humans. She went up to the guest room and dropped her luggage at the ground. Mika sighed and closed the door behind her and layed down at her bed without changing into her pajamas. Day:19 Month: October Year:XXXX Sometimes I hate it when my aunt forces me to do stuff. Even though I spare humans and their interesting…They are still pretty much big jerks. The last time I went to a human school was when I was 10, bullying and all that crap. I was ready to snap and feed on them, luckily my aunt was there to stop me. I do hope things might be better…. Mika got up and showered then changed her clothes, today she was going to a human school. “Good morning Mika,” Hans said and smiled a bit. He was still a bit wary about Mika but seemed to have had a good night’s rest. “Morning,” Mika replied. Even though she had been the doctor at her town, at this world, she was a regular teenage girl. “Auntie, do I have to wear this ridiculous uniform?” Mika asked and held up a blue blouse with a short blue miniskirt. “Come on, kids your age would die for an outfit like that!” Mika’s aunt replied then laughed.

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“I like my long skirts....” Mika said and pouted. Hans sighed and watched both girls argue and debate about outfits. But something had caught his eye, he stared as Mika started to disappear and reappear in a matter of seconds. He rubbed both of his eyes and blinked a few times. “Oh look at the time!,” Mika exclaimed and grabbed her stuff before running out. “You saw it didn’t you?” Mika’s aunt said to Hans. Hans nodded and looked at his wife, she had a dark foreboding look in her face, and he backed away from her slowly. He trembled in fear as the lights flickered on and off and as a melody that sounded like a kid’s nursery rhyme that kept repeating again and again. “Sorry dear but I guess it’s time to say good bye,” she said and smiled sweetly. Hans blinked and looked around, he was really confused since he was standing in the middle of the street. He looked around again and shrugged it off, he thought was all a figment of his imagination as he walked. "You know Mr.Hans," a girl's voice said in his head. "It's rude to stare at other people." He turned around quickly and scanned the area, the place was empty and there was only the full moon. "Who are you?" Hans asked nervously, he scanned the place again and tried not to show his fear. "Who am I?" The voice asked in a mocking voice. "I am your greatest, every figment of imagination you see. Every ghost and story you tell, every monster you fight." "Wh-what do you mean?" Hans asked, he was starting to become more nervous than scared. There was no reply but he saw an eye in the sky, it was staring at him. Then he looked around to see a music box. It was decorated with neat mini skulls and painted blood red. "Your worst nightmare is a clown isn’t it?" The voice asked, Hans gulped and slowly nodded. He had hated clowns when he was young; his older brother had read to him some stories about clowns killing people in gruesome ways. "B-b-but it's not real.." he said. That was a bad mistake, the ground shook and the place turned into an area with lots of human bones and flesh on the ground. There surrounding him were clowns with either big grins on their faces or knives on their hands. Basically there were a variety of clowns that had something gruesome on them. Hans back away as flashbacks of the stories that his older brother had told him were now in his head. "Th-this is just a dream," Hans kept mumbling to himself over and over again. He backed away as one clown had tried to stab him with an already bloodied knife. "You’re wrong Hans!” The voice said with an angry tone that made the ground shake. “I’m real, and everything here is real.” Hans backed away again and saw the eye in the sky was starting to change in color, it was more reddish now. The ground shook more violently as every clown started to morph into either a snake or lizard. Hans thought for a bit and smiled; he had an idea that might kill him. “But it’s not real,” he said confidently. “After all, this is just a dream.” “I’m not a dream!” The voice screamed. It sounded strained as the clowns became more like morphed animals than scary clowns. “Yes you are,” Hans said and grinned in triumph as he saw the world shatter into millions of pieces. In front of him was Mika sobbing and saying that she was real and she wasn’t a figment of his imagination. He went over to her and patted her head; she stopped sobbing and looked up at him in surprise. “Y-you tricked me!” She exclaimed as realization had dawned in her eyes. She glared at him

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but her expression seemed to have softened as he smiled. “Your every human’s wild imagination aren’t you?” He asked as the streets of England came into view. “Yes,” Mika replied. “I’m just your very worst fear...” “But you fear your existence,” Hans said softly. Mika frowned and sighed, she started to walk away. “Just don’t let your guard down Hans,” she said before she left. “Because you know that every nightmare never ever ends.” Hans smiled softly and walked away from his spot while humming a small tune. He hoped that he will never meet that girl again, maybe if she had another name but if he would go back to that world, he would probably go insane. Day: 20 Month: October Year:XXXX Today I met a weird person, I don't know if he's truthful or not. . I wonder why I’m shivering though, is it because I am scared of him? Or is it because I know that my existence might end?

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“Curiosity” Kayva Deevi

The need to know Will not let go Until I know Before I go

Paul stared at the Old Mansion, trying to see if any one lived there. But as usual there was no indication. The Old Mansion was just as it was when he first saw it three weeks ago, and as the oldest people in the town say, it is just as it was 94 years ago. The Old Mansion was in perfect shape on the outside, no broken windows, no weathered paint, and no fallen roofs. The only thing that shows its age was the layer of dust on the whole house, some leaves scattered on the porch and grime gathered in the gutters.

“Come on Paul!” His cousin yelled. “We gotta get home before it gets dark.”

He gave the Old Mansion one last look, before running to catch up to Nick. They walked home silently. Paul’s thoughts were still on the Old Mansion. He couldn’t help himself but always wonder if there was anyone living in there, who was lonely as he was. He was fine until a few weeks ago before his mom died in a car crash, when she was still alive. She was all he had ever since his father left both of them when he was born 12 years ago. And now he was lonelier than ever. He didn’t fit in with his uncle, Max, and his son, Nick, or with the kids at school. He just wanted to go somewhere, be someone and forget everything else.

When they came home, Paul went to his room, which he shared with Nick, and started on his homework, knowing that it would take his mind off of things for a while. His mind was busy solving for the x variable and defining words for a while until Max came home. Max’s wife died a few years ago because of cancer, so it was just all three of them for dinner. Often, they ate at the local diner, and today was one of the days. They all drove to the diner in Max’s truck, but they took another route to town, one that didn’t go by the Old Mansion.

The diner had its usual regulars when they came in. But soon after they settled to eat, a couple of college students came in. They, apparently, were passing by the town and stopped to eat. The old man Pavel couldn’t help himself, and said, “Make sure you take a left, and not a right, when you get to the main intersection.”

And then the students could help but ask why. Then Pavel started telling the tale that he told Paul when he first came to the diner. “If you take a right, you’ll get to the Old Mansion, and the Old Man lives there. We don’t like to use his name because it is bad luck.”

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“But others say it’s because he can hear his name being said by anyone and from anywhere they say it,” interrupted, Pavel’s twin, Fayvel which lead them to a mini argument.

“You wanna tell the story?”

“No you can since you already started it.”

“Oh no, you can continue it since you can’t help but interrupt every time I tell the story to someone new.”

“Nah, If I were to tell it, I would've started with all the details first. And not like you who tells ‘em at the end. So you can finish it.”

They continued back and forth until their grandniece told them to knock it off when she came to drop off their food. And told Fayvel he would get a chance to the story to her friends when they came to visit and let Pavel continue the story.

“Well, now where was I before I was interrupted. Oh, yes! I was still at the beginning,” Pavel said while giving a mean look to Fayvel. “It was when we were kids, about 5 years old really, around the time the Spanish flu hit the town. Many people who were infected went to nearby towns and cities to get treated, and the few who were not infected went into the woods and lived in cabins until it passed. But the family living in the Old Mansion, who always kept to themselves, locked themselves up in their house to protect themselves, and they had their servants locked up too. They hired people to bring the things they needed and the servants cleaned them before they brought them in.

“I remember one time I was walking by the Old Mansion to see the servants, who wore special suits to protect themselves from the flu, pop out of the house and quickly grab the packages left on the porch, like they usually do. But this time, I saw one of the maids talking to the delivery man. She was saying, ‘I don’t even know what he thinks he is doing by locking everyone up. He’s only spreading the flu in the house by not letting the mistress and their children get help from the doctors. Two of the servants are already sick, and the rest of us don’t think he will let us out at all. We might end up dying in here, with that man’s moronic ways.’ And she gave the delivery man a letter to give to her parents.

“And that was the last thing that ever came out of that house. The Old Man must’ve found out about the letter, because for the rest of the time no one came out to get the packages that were left out on the porch, or was any trash thrown out. People found out a little about what was happening in that house and about that Old Man through the maid’s letter.

“And the Old Man was already found to be bizarre by the townsfolk when he kept on mentioning that he preferred old medicine whenever the local doctor insisted

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on giving check-ups for the Old Man’s children. And, the local doctor only kept on asking because his children were so malnourished when they came to school. Whenever I saw those kids I always wondered if they did not have enough money to buy food even though they lived in a big house.

“Of course you only noticed that. But you didn’t notice them giving longing looks at our food during lunch, did ya?” Fayvel once again interrupted. And Pavel got ready to argue, but Fayvel didn’t give him a chance and continued. “I thought I would be nice one day and gave my turkey sandwich to the youngest girl of that family, and she ate it up like she had been hungry for days. But then the next day the girl didn’t show up to school, or for the rest of the week. And when she finally did, she never looked at me or Pavel.”

“She didn’t look at me because she got confused me with you always, so she just stopped looking at the both of us to avoid trouble,” said Pavel angrily. “And quit interrupting me! Now many people thought that the Old Man was too old fashioned, and too strict. Our grandmother said that his mother was thought to be a witch when she was growing up, so people also assumed that he inherited some of that evil too. And when the maid mentioned in her letter that the man was doing some kind of magic to treat the family, people believed the old rumors to be true.

“After a year when no one came out of the house, people just proclaimed everyone in the house dead. But it was after a few days when the first person who spoke the Old Man’s name disappeared, people knew that the Old Man was not dead. Everyone was warned to not to say his name, but there were a few who slipped and said his name. Each time someone slipped they were guarded by the town people, but they always ended up disappearing. Some say it was the Old Man himself that came and took ‘em, and others say that they were hypnotized to going into the Old Mansion. Either way they end up in the Mansion to die or whoever knows.”

“How do you know that it’s true? It happened a long time ago,” asked one of the students.

“We know it’s true because the maid that worked at the Mansion was our aunt, and that the Old Man is still alive because the last time someone disappeared was last month. It was a young man, my grandniece’s boyfriend in fact, who like you didn’t believe that the man was still alive and said his name. And the next day he was gone,” answered Fayvel.

Later that night, in his bed, Paul wondered is there such thing as magic in the world. He knew there was no good magic because if there was, his mother would still be alive because of some miracle. And evil magic couldn’t have killed his mom. It was a

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drunk driver that killed her, not some stupid magic. But then he thought about the Old Man in the Mansion, how could he get people to come to him or kill them?

The next day both Paul and Nick woke up late and had to hurry to catch their school bus. Paul dreaded the idea of being late to school, again. Being the new kid always sucks, especially at a small town middle school. Even though it’s been 3 weeks the kids still stare at him. The only difference was that they stared at him whenever he gets picked on, which is always.

Paul felt as if he had all the bad luck in the world that day as he was eating his lunch by himself in a corner of the lunchroom. He went through a list of all the things that happened today. He was late to first hour because a few kids tried to stuff him in a locker. Spitballs were stuck in his hair from the kids who shot them in second hour. Someone tripped him in class, third hour, when he was going to the front of the room to turn in his homework. And last hour kids behind him kept on making fart noises, and everyone, even the teacher, thought it was Paul.

All through the day Paul had to listen to the sound of everyone laughing at him. He hoped at least at lunch he could have some peace; some time to calm down; some time to gather a bit of courage to get on with the day. Sadly, Paul’s bad luck has not run out yet.

Walking towards him was the bully of bullies, Ricky, with his gang. He had an evil smile on his face that only meant trouble for adults, and pain for kids.

“Hey, Shorty!” yelled Ricky.

Paul felt a little peeved by the name, even though he really was short for his age. He quickly got up to throw away his lunch and escape before they get to his table. But Paul was too late. Ricky loomed over him. He grabbed Paul’s lunch tray and dumped the food on Paul’s head.

Paul heard the laughter of everyone in the cafeteria, and looked around the room at the students. He saw Nick who was not laughing, but not coming up to help either. Paul felt his eyes prickle with tears. He shoved Ricky to the ground and ran out of the school. He ran past the playground, past the block of stores, past the local diner, and past the church.

But Paul didn’t notice what he ran by. He only saw his mother’s death, and felt the pain and loneliness when he saw the light leave her eyes, as he ran. He only felt the laughter of the students punching him in the gut; making him feel weak and hopeless.

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Paul ran and ran until he tripped and fell. He laid there on the damp grass, curled up, hugging his legs and crying.

Paul didn’t know how long he laid there. His tears wouldn’t stop escaping his eyes, even though he didn’t feel like crying any more. He pushed aside every thought that appeared in his mind. He only focused on the ground below him, the noises around him, the trees swaying in the wind, and the clouds in the sky.

When Paul’s pain eased, he turned and laid on his back. He looked at his surrounding, until it finally dawned to him where he was. He got up and looked across the field at the Old Mansion. It looked inviting with a halo around it because of the sun behind.

Paul closed his eyes, turned his head up to the sky and took a deep breath. And let it out slowly while opening his eyes and facing the Old Mansion again. With his mind set, he walked towards it and forgetting about everything else.

Paul knew what he was doing was dangerous as he walked up the creaky stairs to the porch of the Mansion that evening. But he couldn’t help himself when he saw the Old Mansion; his curiosity was at its peak, full of dark rumors and evil gossip of the townsfolk. He carefully walked up to the huge wooden front door as quietly as he could. And instead of knocking with the serpent door knocker, he turned the doorknob and walked in slowly. I shouldn’t disturb the animals in this abandoned place. He convinced himself. I’ll just take a peak and leave quickly.

Paul first came into the dark and dirty foyer. He couldn’t help but sneeze with all the dust and broken spider webs in the air. The sound echoed in the empty house, and with the echo he knew there was a vast room up ahead in the darkness. He quickly caught himself before another sneeze escaped by covering his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie. A thought passed through his head then. Should I go on? But then he replied. Why shouldn’t I go on? There was nothing in the house. No animals sounded when he sneezed, or anyone at all seeing the state of the Mansion. So, with that he moved forward into the darkness. One slow step after another.

The foyer was long. It took him about a half a minute of convincing himself that he was not scared of the darkness until he saw a fading light up ahead. He picked up his pace and looked straight at the light; trying to ignore the staring people in the paintings lined up on the foyer walls. Typical. He thought. A weird old mansion has to have weird old paintings. Yet, he couldn’t help but stop and look when a portrait of a young girl captured him. She was posed in a strange garden. Her demeanor was calm, but in her eyes you could see the pain, the feeling of being held captive, and a

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wistfulness. When he was finally able to look away, he looked at the other paintings while continuing to walk. Each one held a person, who was in the same state as the girl but more panicked and in different settings.

When Paul finally got out of the foyer, where the paintings ended, and into dim lighten circular hall, he saw that it had tall ceilings with marble carvings and roman columns circling the room. And as he walked into the middle of the room he noticed faded murals on the ceiling. From what he could see, they were of dark mythological creatures, like a howling werewolf circling his prey on a full moon night, a siren reeling in a sailor on to her island with her beauty and voice, and an evil goblin in disguise seducing a young girl with forbidden fruit. All of them were about humans falling for the traps of evil beings. And in the middle of all of them was a tempting gothic chandelier with many jewels, all of which looked real and worth millions. Even though the jewels were dusty, the little light managed to make them sparkle which was enough to enchant a person.

The large bay windows caught Paul’s attention as the sun peeked through the dust and grime covering the windows and fell on his face. He walked to the windows and took a peek outside. The sun was at the horizon, and the garden, next to the Mansion, was filled with plants that seemed to be from the garden of Hades. It was filled with flowers like exotic lilies in the color of deep amethyst, lobelias that looked as if carved from silver metal and liquid black roses that shimmered in various dark colors. And trees like willow trees that managed to grow dark blue leaves, and grass that was the color of black coal. But then he was hit with the realization that this was the garden in the girl’s portrait.

Paul quickly staggered away from the windows; away from the horrible garden, though it looked beautiful in the sunset. He turned back to look at the dust filled room. He could see the dust floating in the few rays of light. It just made him feel ghastly about this place.

Then, a feeling started to creep inside Paul. It made him feel small in all this vastness. He turned to leave. And as he did, he saw a set of double doors, and one of the doors was open slightly. The doors were hard to find because they blended in with the wall, but Paul could see them with the help of the almost gone sunlight. He managed to get a glimpse of a chandelier in the room when the little light shined on its engraved jewels. But a glimpse was not enough for Paul. He walked closer to it, as he let the curiosity over take the fear in him again.

He quickly walked to it and opened the door wider. He breathed out shakily and stepped into the room just as all the light left the Mansion. At first he couldn’t see anything, but then his eyes settled. He froze. I should’ve left. I should’ve seen the signs. That was all he thought clearly before all other thoughts, of what he was seeing and saw, muddled in his mind. The dried blood on the curtains. The animal carcasses in the corner. The human bodies strewn around. The broken furniture on the side of

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the room. The broken dangling chandeliers. The burning candle in the corner of the room. The broken spider webs! The broken spider webs in the foyer. Someone must’ve been here before, or are here now.

And just as his mind was clearing, he was entrapped by the mural on the wall. It was filled with different scenes all blended into one, making a big mural, and each scene had a person being lured by a man in various settings. A man, whose face was full of all kinds of sinister, yet had a touch of unexpected purity that draws people in. It drew Paul closer a scene where he was trying to charm a boy with hopes of riches and freedom. The man’s face was fatherly when coaxing but devilish when offering the money and jewels to the boy. Paul saw another, where old woman was being deluded with an illusion of her being young, beautiful and in love with the man. And Paul was thinking only one thing. What happened to them? He kept on looking at each one of the scenes for an answer.

And Paul didn’t notice the sun setting, or the temperature dropping. He was getting more crazed as he continued to look in the candle lit ballroom for that one answer. It wasn’t until he got to a painting of a girl when he broke off his spell. It was the girl from the painting that was in the foyer. As he stared at the dark haired girl, he whispered “What happen to you?”

After he spoke the first words in the house, Paul felt a slight breeze ruffle his hair. He looked around to see if there were any windows open, and saw all of them were closed. He didn’t want to think what it might’ve been. Just the thought of ghosts, spirits or souls freaked Paul out. So, he started to look the murals again, and he found a familiar person in one of scenes. It was his cousin.

Suddenly Paul heard the front door of the Mansion being opened and slammed closed. He quickly ran and hid in a corner behind a table. He heard footsteps coming towards the ballroom, one shuffling, and another walking heavily with synchronized tapping which could’ve been a cane. When they finally entered the ballroom, Paul saw that it was an old hunched man and his cousin Nick. They didn’t notice Paul hiding in the corner. And, when Nick spoke, Paul heard what Nick was saying clearly in the quiet room.

“Are you sure you saw him sneak in to this place?” whispered Nick as he looked around the room.

“Of course, I saw the boy sneak in. I was working in the garden when I saw him,” croaked the old man.

Paul realized that Nick must’ve thought that he came here when he ran away from school. And when the old man told Nick that he was here, Nick believed him and didn’t think of the possibility of the old man being the Old Man.

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Nick was walking towards the mural on the wall with his head leaned to the side. His eyes were filled with curiosity, like Paul’s earlier, and wanted a closer look at the paintings. The Old Man meanwhile straightened up from his hunched position and revealed a dagger hidden in his cane. It had dried blood on it.

The Old Man moved as if he was 24 years old rather than 124 years old. He stealthily walked towards Nick, who was near where Paul was hidden. He had the dagger poised and was ready to stab Nick. And Nick was unaware of the Old Man. He was hypnotized by the depictions of the Old Man’s spells.

And then it happened very quickly. Nick jerked out the spell and turned around just as the Old Man flashed to where Nick was and was about to stab him. Paul didn’t even think when he ran out of his hiding place and slammed into the Old Man’s legs. And the Old Man fell with a grunt, but still held on to the dagger.

Nick realized what happened and quickly went to help Paul hold down the struggling Old Man. Both of the boys wrestled with him. Nick trying to keep him down, and Paul trying to get the dagger out of his hands. But then the Old Man managed to get his arm free and went to stab Paul. Paul instinctively reacted and shoved the Old Man’s arm with all his might forward. And the Old Man stabbed himself. As soon as the Old Man stopped struggling, it dawned to the kids what had happened. They quickly got off of him, but couldn’t stop looking at him where laid on the cold floor with a dazed look on his face. They didn’t understand what had happened to the evil Old Man that took away his fight. They only felt a breeze sweeping into the room.

The Old Man though, felt all of the emotions that he had been devoided of many years as he laid there. He felt ashamed for believing in foolish things that lead to his family’s death and his corruption. He felt sorrow and regret for killing his own family and many people. He felt happiness and love that he forgot to give to his family. But more than any emotion, he felt lonely without his family.

Then through the emotional haze he saw every single person that he killed flash in front of his eyes, and disappear. He finally felt the courage to accept his mistakes, and whispered, “I’m sorry.” And closed his eyes, and left to join his family.

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Paul and Nick heard the Old Man’s last words, and felt as if a curse has been lifted off the house. They felt relieved that they were safe and that no one else has to be afraid of the Old Man again. They walked out of the house and saw half of the town outside getting ready to go in to the Old Mansion to search for them. But with the sight of the two boys the people cheered with happiness, relieved that the boys are safe. Paul and Nick ran to Max and hugged him. And Max hugged them tightly with the thought of never letting them go.

“I’m sorry for not sticking with you from the beginning,” whispered Nick.

“It’s okay,” replied Paul.

They turned around and looked at the Old Mansion. It now looked like a normal worn mansion, with a wild garden full of weeds.

“Goodbye, Old Man Hanson,” whispered Pavel who stood next to Paul. And when Paul looked at him, he winked at Paul.

Paul smiled and looked up at the starry night sky. “I’m sorry I haven’t tried hard to move on, but I will try,” he whispered to his mom, wherever she may be. And a breeze answered him.

The Old Sport Creative Writing Club Meeting Dates:11/14, 11/28, 12/12, 1/16, 1/30, 2/132/27, 3/13, 3/27, 4/10, 4/24, 5/15

All meetings take place in room 226 at 3:30.

Old Sport literary magazine is published monthly.Submit all writing to oldsport.centennial@gmail.com

Old Sportliterary magazine

Old Sportliterary magazine

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