'Haunted' & 'Four weeks to live' by E.P age 14

Haunted

                         by E.P. aged 14

The idea flowed into my mind like a stream. It was always there but all of a sudden it was crystal clear: a haunted house party! It would be perfect.

I opened my eyes and looked around. Everyone was there – well, except Josh. It was his birthday party we were planning, after all. 

“Paintball?” someone suggested.

“Nah. We do that every year.”

”Bowling?”

“Laser tag?” 

“Restaurant?” That was Zac. All he ever thought about was food.

“How about we go to a haunted house? I asked. “He is a scary movie freak anyway.”

“Yeah. Good idea.” Everyone murmured their consent.

“Well, since you thought of it, could you do the arrangement? Thanks,” Anna said. She always somehow got someone else to do the job.

So, I had organised everything: food, hire, for the house, what to bring.

I opened the front door.

“Josh, you first?” I asked.

“No way,” he said. “The first person who walks in always dies.”

Sighing, I walked in. It was awesome. If I had thought the 18^th century Gothic was cool, this was beyond words: high stair case, big ropes for the bells.

Everyone piled into the living room. It looked like the room belonged to a vampire – everything was red or black: slightly creepy but awesome.

All of a sudden the doors opened by themselves . . .

Four weeks to live

                                                          by E.P. aged 14

The full red lips of the doctor were moving but I couldn’t hear. My vision narrowed and I saw her unnaturally white teeth pronouncing the words with a slight English accent.

“You have cancer, dear,” she said. It was probably meant to sound kind and sympathetic but all that my mind registered was she was giving my death sentence.

“You have about four weeks to live.”

I looked out the polished window. There were children playing outside. I suddenly took notice of all the little things: the children were happy; the dog was busy chasing its own tail; the wind whispered gently to the big trees; one of those dandelion seeds flew past the window, each pale white strand shining in the morning sun as it danced on the soft breeze.

There was hardly a cloud in the sky. The sky was so blue, so clear. The few clouds there were wispy like cotton buds.

I opened the door. If the doctor tried to stop me I didn’t notice. 

I walked a little to the park. I sat down on the brown wooden bench. Under my fingertips I felt the names engraved, feeling the sun’s rays, warming every part of my body. The small daisies swayed in the wind.

I was blissfully happy.