Halloween Story

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic


Victoria's parents died when she was about to turn 7. She moves in with her foster parents. Then her foster parents want to move. Will she move? Or will she stay?

Submitted: November 06, 2017

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Submitted: November 06, 2017

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“That night…” I say, “I remember it like it was yesterday.”  Brandon looks at me, wide-eyed. “What happened?” he asked. I explained everything to him. He looked back at me again except this time, he looked at me blankly as if I had just explained nothing. I responded quickly with “Go look on Youtube for the news about if you want to! That night.. That dream.. It all became a reality.. He murdered my mother, and then my dad was tortured to death!” Brandon looked around and back, then responded, wide-eyed “I’m so sorry..” “It’s not your fault, I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” I told him, about to burst out crying. I ran out of the room. Recently, I had moved in with my boyfriend, Brandon. Because my foster parents moved, and I didn’t want to go with them, and I was 17 at the time. I’m 19 now. I was with my foster parents, well, because my real parents were murdered a month before I was supposed to turn 7. I don’t remember them much, all I know is my mom had bleach blonde, wavy hair, freckles, and dimples. My dad had dark brown hair, almost black hair. I literally look exactly like my dad, just a girl, and I act just like my mom. Everyone knows who I am, but the only problem is everyone asks how it happened, and of course I tell them. Every Sunday when I’m on my way to eat dinner, I always stop and go to the cemetery that my parents were buried in. Sometimes, I will go to my parents grave, and I’ll find a note on them. Usually it says something like, “Hey! I feel bad for what happened, I wish I could’ve helped, but when I got there, it was too late. Love, Angelica” something like that. Angelica was my grandma’s name, but the only reason I didn’t go with her is because she was an alcoholic at the time. I think she stopped, but I’m not sure because I haven’t talked to her since my parents funeral, which was like 11 years ago, when they figured out how it happened. They still never figured out who did it, but I think it was like, my mom’s cousin, or something. After my parents were murdered, my mom’s cousin got even richer. He had always been richer than most of my family, but after they died, he suddenly became richer, which made him able to move to like Paris, right by the Eiffel Tower, which is really expensive! I figured that out at the funeral, because everyone was talking about it. I was only 7 at the funeral, my mom’s cousin spoke at the funeral, he said “I’m really sorry this happened, I know it’s not my fault, but still. I feel really bad!” That’s what he said, and I’m pretty sure he did it! I tried to catch proof that he did it, but I can’t remember all that much! After I turned 23,  something awesome happened! I never expected it!! Brandon asked me to marry him, and I said yes! Oh my god! I was super happy!! 3 months later, 2 nights before the wedding I had a dream that almost seemed real! Gliding along on my horse when all of a sudden, the horse trips, and I go down with it. After I start crying, I run, then I look back at the knife he’s holding, covered with blood, and I scream! He’s already gotten the horse. Finally, I start running on foot. “Veronica, Veronica,” I hear my name as I shake violently! I wake up when I hear my name. I wake up sweating and crying. “Are you ok?” Brandon says, leaning over my bed. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I answer “It was just a dream.” “Ok…” Brandon says, very hesitantly, like he’s almost not sure it was a dream. At this time, every light in the house is off except mine. I hear the clock strike midnight. “I better get back to sleep.” I say, “I need my beauty sleep!” I say laughing. Brandon goes back to his room and goes to sleep. I couldn’t go to sleep for at least another hour, until finally I’m able to go back to sleep. That night I didn’t have another dream, at least not one that I can remember. When I woke up, I went into the kitchen to have breakfast, and walking by the Brandon’s room, I notice he’s not in his room. I call out his name. Nothing happens. I call out his name again. Nothing happens. I try and call him on his phone and he doesn’t answer. Even though I was worried earlier, I was worried even more now. I go outside to look for him and I notice that his truck is still there. “That’s a good sign,” I said. I go to look outside in the backyard. I see something really weird. And creepy. I see an old man with a body with the head barely attached. I screamed, as I realized who he was holding. The old man started whispering my name. I screamed again. Apparently everyone was too busy to come and help! I backed up, like, 4 steps, turned around, and ran to my car. As soon as I got to my car, I opened the door, got in it, locked it, and then drove away. As I was driving, I looked in the mirror and saw him, standing in the middle of the road, again, with Brandon’s head just swinging in his hand. I screamed and hurry and try to find my phone, only to realize I left it at the house. I hurry and go to dial 911 into my car, only to realize that it only works when my phones in the car and has bluetooth turned on. I scream again. I think I’ve gone, what, 5 miles more, when I turn my head and see him standing right behind my car. I don’t know how he’s getting that far in that short amount of time, but still, it’s creepy. I heard him, this time, screaming my name. I hurry and drive to the nearest gas station, trying to find a phone. Once I get there, I rush out of the car, go into the store, and ask if I can use someone’s phone. Someone at the counter let me use their phone, Brittany, I think it was. I called the cops, and they came to find the guy. Once they found him, I explained to the police that the creepy old guy had killed Brandon.  The police then took me to the station and asked me a whole bunch of questions. Most of which, I couldn’t answer. I bet they thought I was psycho. I hated the fact that Brandon was gone, I couldn’t bring myself to believe it. I hated myself for it. I thought it was all my fault. I called everyone and told them that the wedding was canceled, and I told them what had happened. A lot of people cried, and I cried with them. When it got time to call my parents, I couldn’t do it, so I asked my sister to tell them for me. She did. Then, I told Brandon’s parents, and asked them to tell his siblings. I cried, a lot. I seriously thought it was all my fault. I cried myself to sleep that night, and the next night, and the next night, and so on. I got a lot of calls saying “I’m so sorry,” “It’s not your fault,” and “It’ll get better!” I cried every time someone called me. Finally, the day of the funeral, everyone I knew, and everyone Brandon knew, came. I was crying my head off the whole time. Luckily I cry quietly, so no one heard me. When it was over, I went to McDonald’s and bought a hamburger, fries, and a drink. After McDonald’s, I went home and closed the door to Brandon’s room. I think I’m going to let his family come and collect his stuff later. Since that’s the right thing to do. I call his parents, cousins, siblings, and the rest of his relatives, to come and get some of his stuff. Before they came over, I got some of the stuff that I wanted. I went in some of his drawers, looking around, when I found something. I found the ring he bought for me. I took that and put it in my pocket. I took some of his old school yearbooks and some other stuff. After I put the stuff in his room, I went to go clean the house to make sure it looks nice for his family. After I did that, I went to my room to watch some netflix. That's when I heard the doorbell ring. I went to go check it out. When I opened the door, Brandon's mom was standing there. She immediatly gave me a hug. She started crying and said "I'll just go get his stuff now." "Ok," I replied.


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