She was known all around the schoolyard. She had a mean face, one that would spit, punch, kick, anything. She was feared by everyone. The strange thing was that the guys, and the biggest and toughest of the school thought she was evil. She had a long neck and large shoulders. She even had a moustache. Not a large bushy one but it was noticeable. We all thought she looked like a pit bull. That’s how she got her nick name; The Pit Bull Bully or just The Pit Bull.The Pit Bull was walking down the corridor, no, not walking, strutting down it, like she was the best in the world, throwing evil glances at anyone that would pass, preps or grade sixes, it didn’t matter to her. Maybe she’d throw a punch if she felt like it. People jumped out of her way when she passed. She did not care for the teachers either. She’d swear, not do any work, but now the teachers didn’t care anymore. They’d tried! God they tried! But nothing could stop her. Our school was the only one she had not been expelled from in all of Banyule. But anyways, I’m babbling, and loosing track.

It was lunchtime, and she was, as I was saying before, walking down the corridors to get her lunch. As she passed me, she spat at me and it fell on my freshly unwrapped sandwich. It was my favourite too. Ham and Lettuce with Mayonnaise. I don’t know why, but I think she’s always had something against me. When she came on the first day of term 2 in grade 4, she was allocated to be my friend. I hate it when teachers allocate friends. People can make their own decisions. I had my own friends. But I did it anyway. I told my friends to be nice to her. They took one look at her and decided they didn’t like her, and I couldn’t blame them. But I pleaded with them, and they got down eventually.

At recess I said hello to her and introduced myself and my friends. I was sooo nice to her. I let her have one of my mum’s top secret recipe choc chip cookies with the gooey ooey choc bites inside. That’s what I used to call them anyway. Now I just call biscuits. She didn’t seem so bad after all. Then, one day, she just dumped me. I don’t know why. And ever since them she has been horrible to me. And it really upsets me.

Now I have had enough. She has been tormenting me for two long years and now it’s time to stand up to her. I threw my sandwich in the bin and strode up to her, stranding not half a metre away from her sweaty repulsive face. I really noticed how truly ugly she was at that point. I only then really knew why we called her a pit ball. Tearing her lunch to bits like a dog, spitting every so often and drawl coming down the side of her mouth, it was horrible. But I didn’t care. I was going to tell her how I felt.

“Listen to me,” I said to her suddenly, and as soon as I said that I saw that it was a mistake. I knew she wasn’t used to be talked to that way, but I refused to stop.
“Don’t you ever spit on my sandwich again, or steal my food or lunch money, or punch me in the stomach, or my friends, or act like you own the world, or stop anyone else from enjoying their life just because YOU don’t!”

I was out of breath. I looked in her eyes for a moment to see shock on her face. I then focused on a mole on her forehead. I was terrified, I thought I was going to die, I was so scared.
“Don’t you EVER speak to me like that again, not EVER”

I started to breathe deeply, my heart was humming it was going so fast and then, I looked up and she was gone.

* * * * * * * * *

The next day The Pit Bull Bully didn’t come to school, or the next or the next. Maybe I had hit the truth. What happened to her, I’ll never know. Some people called me a hero. But I have a strange feeling that she’ll come back one day and on that day, hell will surely come. Pit Bull’s never just leave, especially this one.

The once beautiful town of Edenhawk lay in utmost despair. The town had once the noise of children playing, people wandering up the many streets and horse’s hooves, pulling along carriages with love struck couples but now, there was silence. It was enough to make anyone crumble to see such lows, especially if you were that ruled this place. The prince, Prince Prospero, had not intended for his perfect city to crumble in despair.‘I cannot stand this!’ he would cry, gloomily looking out on his land through one of his palace’s many windows. ‘I must get away. I want to live my life, not be stuck here with nothing to do.’ He looked out the window. There, he saw a family, running for life. But why? He leaned in closer to the window. A man was staggering after the family, crying. Prospero now had his nose touching the window’s pane. The man collapsed blood all over his head and body, seeping out of any gaps there was; the sight was just unbearable. The prince pulled his head away from the window and sighed, ‘another casualty for the Red Death.’The Red Death had been told to have struck in many ways, but none as gruesome as the truth. It seeped out of anywhere it could; eyes, mouth, ears, anywhere, but it came out so quickly and so violently that the person would die in just thirty minutes. The cause of this plague was unknown, as well as how you received it. The Red Death was feared among all the lands, arriving on unsuspecting towns and cities, and throwing the life out of all in its path. This was something Prince Prospero couldn’t stand, so he decided to save the people he could, by building a huge castle with everything anyone would ever need, making sure, that there was no way the Red Death could enter. Then, he invited one thousand of the finest people in his land to share in the wining, dining, and entertainment. This, he knew, could never fail. Or could it???

The day had finally come and he and the one thousand others waited by the gate of his castle. “

Prosperian
Castle” he had named it, after himself. He had arrived in a motor car, which he had ordered from
England and, to ensure he was safe, drove it himself. Once he’d arrived, he opened the door to the castle, let everyone inside and threw the key away, where it fell in a lake, hundreds of metres deep.

‘Nothing will wreck my floorless plan,’ he said to the anxious men and women around him, ‘we are safe.’

Five or six months went by with endless partying, drinking and entertaining, each night with a more exciting event then the last. Many had forgotten the world they had left behind, the relatives and friends they had left to suffer. There was no need; they were having the time of their lives. Prince Prospero amongst them. He had, in fact, met a girl he fancied with golden hair and deep blue eyes, with whom he danced each night. He had never thought she’d be the first to go.

It was a stormy night with dark cloud looming over the castle, but nobody there knew, they were dancing at a masked ball that the Prince had organised. People came in the fanciest gowns and suits, laughing and chatting together doing whatever they pleased. It certainly was the perfect night. The prince was looking at them all grinning, he’s perfect plan had worked. They were all going to live. They were free from the dreaded plague that came into their lives, and had all they wanted in life. Nothing was ever going to go wrong. It was then they heard the scream.

The scream came from the powder room on the side of the hall. People started towards it, their minds full of worry, what was it? What could get into this castle?

The prince led the anxious crowd toward the powder room. He had attempted to shrug him off a couple of times, but they were anxious, and they had to see what was behind the walls. The prince walked slowly toward it, grabbing a plate for protection. Just as his hand went toward the knob on the door he pulled his hand away and said: ‘I would be rude to go into a lady’s room’.

A plump man name Sylvester Roddle seemed to have grown tired of the prince’s dawdling, and, knowing someone was in need, barged the door down. Inside lay Louise, blood draining out of her face and eyes, dead.

Gasps came from all around the room, some people fainting, other screaming, and the rest just staring at her in utter horror.

‘How could this happen?’ Sylvester cried, pointing his finger at her mangled body. ‘You assured us we’d be safe!! But…THE RED DEATH HAS RETURNED!!!’

‘That’s…well that’s utter nonsense,’ Prince Prospero said in bewilderment at such a suggestion, ‘nothing can get through these walls! Guards, take this traitor to the dungeon!’

‘Dungeon?’ another cried, ‘never did you mention a dungeon was within these walls. Have you gone mad? I have the right mind to leave sir!’

‘Leave?’ the prince cried hysterically ‘Leave? Well that’s impossible! You see in this castle, if you cease to remember, there is no exit or entrance! We are all destined to die!’

‘If you do not recall,’ a lady said from the crowd, ‘there is a dead body on the floor, and we can’t just leave it there!’

‘Well then we’ll throw her out. Because apparently, Louise did mean anything to you. But she did mean a lot to me. You see…,’ said the prince, returning back to normal with intense grief, ‘I was going to ask her to marry me tonight. I guess my dreams are just going down the toilet.’
He pulled out the ring and placed it on one her limp fingers.

‘Excuse me for disturbing your grief your highness, ‘said a timid voice from the corner, ‘but can isn’t there plumbing or something to make trash go away that the pericyte or whatever it was could’ve got into?’

‘The pericyte! We must find it! It may have already escaped this room!’

‘You majesty!’

One of the many in the crowd was pointing toward a mosquito, flying passively in the air, about fifteen centimetres above the prince’s left shoulder, the prince looked around desperately to face the creature, and then he met it, his face white as a sheet as it flew down toward him. Prince Prospero ran from it, waving his hands around in an attempt to scare it away, backed into the crowd, and closed the door.

‘Why does it have to be a devilish creature so hard to destroy?’ he wept. ‘That vermin would bite any who attempts to destroy it.’

‘Your majesty,’ cried a person in the crowd, quivering with fright, ‘we were all in that room with Louise, we may have the disease!’

‘But,’ cried Sylvester, pointing out the prince, ‘only one touched her!’

Everyone stared at the prince, petrified. The prince looked down at his wet, clammy hands. Had he the Red Death inside him? Was it only a matter of time before he would also meet his fate? Impossible, he thought, shaking the idea out of his mind. Or was it?

‘We must break the door down!’ he bellowed at the crowd, ‘grab anything you can! We must escape!’

‘But…’ started Sylvester

‘THERE IS NOT TIME TO QUESTION ME!!!’ Prince Prospero grabbed a leg of one of the tables in the room and charged at the door. All others followed, grabbing whatever they could, and charging at the door. The impossibility of breaking down the door before them never crossed their mind. Their greed was overpowering them. Their greed of leaving all their friends and family to rot as they eagerly went through the castle doors, having the time of their lives, then waiting to be treated the same in the open world. All they cared for was themselves, no one else.

The door never opened. The greedy people that lay in the walls of that castle perished, one by one. All but the prince. The prince looked around at the piles of mangled bodies, going slowly insane. Maybe it was the thought that his perfect plan had failed, maybe it was the knowledge that he was to die, but while he was growing in insanity, a small mosquito landed on his shoulder, and lay his mind to rest.

 Actually this is my original but since the orders going wierd…..its yet another….enjoy!

This story is posted in www.dailywriting.net in it’s Chamber of Horrors! The night was the stormiest night I have ever recalled in all my life. The rain was coming down so heavy no one even dared to leave their homes. The thunder struck like a cat of nine tails hitting a condemned man for the worst of penalties. I was sitting in my study, surveying the storm from the window behind my desk. It surely was horrific. My darling wife, Catharine, was sitting in the lounge, knitting. She always does that when she’s fretting about something. My two children, my son Edward and daughter Elizabeth were sitting there with her, playing cards. I don’t know where my dog
Harlow was, probably laying on his bed, as he always does. The rain poured down for hours and hours, and I just sat there waiting for it to pass, so I could go hunting to get my family a decent feed for the next day. Finally I gave up and went to my bedroom. My kids had gone to bed hours ago. I thought my wife had to but, noticing she wasn’t there I gathered she was just continuing her knitting.
I awoke early the next morning to sunshine and blue skies. Surprisingly there was no evidence of the storm the night before, I thought as I looked out the window. My children were out there with
Harlow. I looked for my wife; she was in the kitchen, making breakfast. I noted her nursing her hand. I enquired her about it but she just said something about knitting. I told her that that cut would be impossible to do whilst knitting, but she insisted on it and changed the subject. Not wanting to fight I just ate my breakfast passively, and went out to hunt food for the evening.If only I realised then.

It was exactly four weeks after that night. My wife had been acting ever so strangely during the whole time but she insisted it was just a small head cold. Anyway, on this night my wife was out, playing cards with her friends or something, it’s this monthly ritual they decided to start. My children were in the rumpus room with my sister Penelope. I walked outside. The night was perfect for hunting. I called to my sister to take care of Edward and Elizabeth, before I grabbed my shotgun and walked out into the night.
The moon came out from under the clouds and shone brightly. It made me realise how lively the forest is at night. I heard a wolf howl in the distance and my skin crawl. I hated wolves. But that was not nearly as much as I hated werewolves. We once had one in my old town, then two, then four, before the whole town was flooded with them. Only a lucky few survived and fled. I have never known what exactly the wolves are, as the stories are varied so much it is hard to tell which ones are even close to the truth. I know that they are like normal wolves, except are larger and are able to stand on their hind legs at ease. They have huge rigid backs and no mercy. And how they are created, well I’ve only heard of two stories that could be even close to the truth. The first one tells the tail of the devil. In this tail, werewolves were people suffering from mental illnesses usually. The person will go outside to an isolated place and start to draw a circle in the dirt. In the middle of this circle the werewolves would light a fire. He would put on the skin of a wolf which he and only he had killed and rub a magical ointment on his body. Then he would pray to the Devil. At the end of this, the skin of the wolf would turn into their own skin and they would become a werewolf, and go off for their search of prey.

But I think this would be for only the first werewolf, if any. For I believe that a werewolf can only become what they are, by being bitten by another. Once they are bitten, that is it. There is no cure. Once it is found out the person is sent out to be hung, in broad daylight, to make sure that they never feast on another humans flesh. This is what most people believe how werewolves come about.

I listened to another howl. This one seemed closer, and I started to feel anxious of my surroundings. I heard a sound from behind me. I swung around and saw a bush shaking ferociously. I quickly swung my shotgun up over my shoulder and put it in position. The bush seemed to keep on shaking and my feet felt frozen to the spot. Then out jumped…a family of rabbits. I sighed and lowered my shotgun in relief. Wait…I picked my shotgun up again…do I think my family feels like rabbit stew?

I began walking back home, feeling very pleased with myself. My family now had a decent few days of feed ahead of them. I looked around at my surroundings. I liked the way this village looked at night. The way the old cottages looked like something at of a fairytale, and the way the lake shone as bright as the sun on a summer’s day. Everyone seemed to but at ease with everyone. It was then I heard a man’s desperate yell.

I ran in the direction I had heard the yell. It was only two blocks away, near the edge of the forest, where the trees were so close together they seemed like a cramped passageway. I walked down it and at the end I found my good friend being attacked by a werewolf. At least it seemed like a werewolf. It was the same build, yes, but it was slightly smaller, the paws where not as wide, and the facial features weren’t as long as usual. But it was a werewolf all the same. I picked up a large stick and swung it above my head, before throwing it onto the fiend. It turned my way. By now some other people arrived from the village, some holding sticks of fire. They also threw them at the wolf. It stood up on its hind legs, with quite ease, and caught them before throwing them back. The people screamed and ran for shelter. I got out my shotgun and shot at its head and chest, just as the clouds shifted and covered the moon.

At first I thought the bullets had worked. The werewolf let off a deafening howl. It seemed as though it was in agony. It stood, grasping its head with its two paws, moaning and groaning so much that I could not understand what was happening. Then it started to shrink in size. Its paws turned to hands and feet, then the legs and arms, then the body and the head. No…it seemed impossible, how could this be? The werewolf was not a werewolf. It was a she-wolf. It was Catharine. I couldn’t breathe. I knew the penalty for being a werewolf or she-wolf. She was going to be hanged.

I know now that the cut Catharine ha d received was not from her knitting, but from a werewolf. She had been out to fetch some fresh water from the well before morning when it struck. I only wish I heard her scream. I also know that werewolves do not mean the things they do, it is just bad luck. The worst luck. But now she’s dead, and I’m left to take care of Edward and Elizabeth and Harlow on my own, and I just can’t help thinking, if only.

Well this is my first entry…HOW EXCITING!!! Feel free to read all my work and let me know what you think! Note that some of this stuff some of you may have already read from my blogger but anyways….