Halloween Post

This morning I was looking through some old school documents in my computer and stumbled upon a short story I wrote when I was in 7th grade for a writing contest that had to begin with "As I stretched out my hand the broom came to life...."
Yes, the prompt was amidst the Harry Potter obsession that swept through every public school district in the U.S. and that is perhaps still present.

Regardless, re-reading it made me reminisce on the HUGE enthusiasm I had while writing it (and the delight my 12/13 year-old self  took when winning first place, despite knowing probably only a handful had submitted anything from my class)  and how, at least in that particular middle school, writing was taken seriously and very much encouraged as was reading. Even during my College Credit English class senior year of high school I can't recall reading book after book with such voracity and delight as in 6th and 7th grade. I have no doubt that the experience really formed my character traits of deep curiosity (now expressed majoring in Biology) and reflective/analytical skills. 

So, just for the sake of some Halloween celebration and further reminicing here is a portion of it:

P.S. I've also been doing more reading on JP II's "Love and Responsibility" and C.S. Lewis's "The Four Loves". Both really great works! More to come!

"I followed the woman, which I later discovered was named Abigail. We

walked through the narrow streets of colorless village. In every corner

there were corpses of people, young and old, their dead bodies left with

black scars in their skin from the Black Death.

With each sight of the corpses I grew even more uncomfortable. The smell

of death was now penetrated  my cloak. Yet, Abigail kept walking as if the

corpses were invisible. As if seeing dead people were an everyday thing. I

could not understand this, for Abigail seemed weak, her eyes seemed to pop

out of her thin bony face and a slender body that was covered by the

over-sized cloak. 

We kept walking the narrow streets until we were at its center, there stood

a meetinghouse. Abigail turned to me but her face had no expression and

simply pointed at the meetinghouse. Without hesitation I entered. This room

was dark, with only two small candles lighting it.

          “Hello?” I whispered, my voice shaking from the uncertainty of this

place.

          “Come closer, for I can not see your face.  What’s thy name?” a deep

voice commanded from the back of the room.

          “I am, I am Victoria,” I said trying to hide my fear as I walked to this

strange man.

          Suddenly the door burst open and let some light in. I could now see

the room was much bigger than what appeared from the outside.  There was

a table in back where the strange man sat and rows of chairs in front of it. I

was standing in the aisle between the chairs. It was Abigail, with a paper in

her hands. She walked to the strange man, curtseyed and handed him the paper. 
Then she left the room and left me again in the darkness of the room.

The man quickly read the paper and I could see a smirk beginning to form on

his narrow scrawny face..."

First Halloween in St. Louis-2001