This is a revision of something my brother wrote...
I looked at my brother, Benjamin, awaiting for a signal.
Benjamin said, "Your turn."
You see, we were telling ghost stories. There were four people: myself, Benjamin, Mike Salzbrenner, and Andy Joe Brown. Andy lived in Nebraska City, but everybody else lived in Omaha. Anyway, it was Halloween that night.
I will be telling this story so just sit back and enjoy this tale.
* * *
The characters in this story are myself, Moe (that's my cat), Skipper (my dog), Ernie and Goldie (they're goldfish), and Officer Jones. This is the tale of the Bloody Hand.
One dark Halloween night, Skipper, Moe, and I were looking for evidence in a graveyard. Officer Jones had assigned us on this case, he called it the Mystery of the Bloody Hand. Well anyway, I was looking for a grave marked Steven Smith, because he had had a hand that was chopped off before he died. You see, Steven had invented a liquid that made any part of your body live after being disconnected with the rest of the body until that part was chopped up. Steven obviously used the liquid on his hand about thirty-five years ago.
Skipper began barking at Moe and they played chase in the graveyard. I finally discovered Steven's gravestone. It was covered with moss and lichen. The stone read, "1855-1955, Steven Smith." I had earlier found out that he had lived 95 years before he cut off his hand. This information scared me. Skipper jumped over five graves to reach my side, as I froze in a panic like none other. A dead person had come out of his grave. I heard and saw a record player on a branch of a tree nearby. Then an arm shot out of Steven Smith's grave. Its hand had been chopped off! My eyes widened at the appalling sight. Skipper and Moe came and stood beside me.
The record player suddenly fired a record at me. I caught it in midflight, the record was razor sharp and caused my hand to bleed.
Corpses were arising everywhere. Moe clawed at one dead man's eyeball, but it just bled like my hand. Steven had finally rose from the grave. With this, I took the record and ran. I noticed Skipper snapping up Moe by the collar and running for it. I saw that the record's name was, well, actually, it had no name. I threw the record at the dead people.
Skipper, Moe, and I ran into a forest called the Dark Forest. It contained monstrous squirrels and humongous birds with giant, sharp beaks. I ran faster, and stepped on a rattlesnake.
* * *
Thunder interrupted the story. "However," I said.
* * *
The rattlesnake jumped up and bit me. I fell and slowly took out my snakebite antidote. Skipper bit the snake in half, killing it. I applied the antidote liquid on the bite. I saw the corpses slowly approaching.
One dead person grabbed Moe. The dead man, which appeared to be Steven Smith, opened his mouth and drooled. I commanded Skipper to get or drag me out of there. He obeyed. I grabbed a flashlight and pointed the beam of light at the dead men. They disintegrated as the light hit them. Steven Smith had been somewhat of a scientist and somehow invented a lifegiving liquid that did exactly as the name implied. He held Moe up, about to swallow him. I threw a rock at Steven, but it evaporated when it hit him. Moe escaped the zombie's grasp. I pulled out a knife and hurled it at Steven. It struck him right between the eyes. Skipper jumped at him and bit off his foot. Steven fell and decayed. Moe started to run but stopped and backed up. There were three men with shotguns, grenades, M-16s, switchblades, and flashlights. They yelled and fired bullets at us.
A man in a London Fog coat said, "Hey, Sam. Look at that wimp over 'dere."
"Shut up, Joe!" the man in black said.
I said, "Stop!"
They looked at me and chuckled. The Sam said, "Fool, your a..." Sam stopped in mid-sentence when he heard a big squawk. A bunch of white, smelly, sticky stuff fell on them.
Sam cried, "Oh no! It's bird..."
Joe interrupted, "I know what it is. It's covering both of us."
Sam shut up and rolled his eyes.
I was laughing through the whole scene. Skipper yelped and jumped up in the air. Moe scratched the ground. All of a sudden, the foul stench hit my nostrils. I got up and walked over by the pile of white stuff. An arrow whizzed by and nicked my face.
An Indian said boldly, "I sorry fo' hittin' ya' fiend, mus' be a warden."
I stopped him and asked where the warden's house was.
"Wes'," he answered. He was not your expert at English but we did fine in talking.
I went to the warden's house. I found on the door, written in blood, the words, "the bloody hand." Skipper, Moe, and I went in and the warden looked angry. I saw Ernie and Goldie, imprisoned by the warden.
Officer Jones jumped in from the window suddenly. The scoundrels were captured.
* * *
And that is what I did on Halloween.
written by Jeremy Brick
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