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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic

Jake returns a plate to the neighbor down the street.

He gets more then he bargained for.

When I was around ten, there was this old woman who lived on the corner. I later learned she had moved here from Ireland, after meeting her husband while he was stationed in Dublin.

The rumor among us kids was that she was a witch.

I know...fucking kids imagination.

As I got older, I learned, especially thanks to my grandpa, that she was in fact a very sweet woman and our childhood rumors were just a result of an overexaggerated imagination.

Where my story takes place, I had just completed the 7th grade and it was in the morning hours of the third day of Summer.

My Grandpa had just passed away, and the old woman had dropped off a plate of cookies a few days before. So I was returning her plate, something that in the mind of a puberty filled thirteen year old took all of ten minutes, but felt like it would take me the whole day.

I was sitting on the bottom steps while tying my shoes when my mother poked her head out around the doorway of the kitchen and told me, "Remember to mow the lawn when you get back." She had this sort of "just to remind you because I know you'll try to forget" facial expression.

'Cause that's what a pre-teen wants to do. Chores. So I figured maybe I would take my time and maybe my mom would forget by the time I returned. You know, child logic.

As I approached the old woman's door step, I smelled something really funky. It smelt like someone was boiling gym socks with fish...yeah...gross.

I knocked on her door and before I could knock twice, she opened the door so quickly, the air blew her hair back like one of those shampoo commercials.

"Hey Jake, come on in." the old woman invited, catching her breath.

I humbly obliged and stepped foot inside.

As I looked around her living-room, I started to feel like I transported back in time to the 70's. I mean, I'm not exaggerating when I tell you that she still had pink and yellow wallpaper with matching couches and chairs, with wall to wall light pink carpet. She took the plate from me and left to the other room.

I stood there really not sure why I was still there, considering all I was doing was returning a plate, but I wanted to kill as much time to avoid mowing the lawn in the heat.

So as I stood there twiddling my fingers, a loud crash rang my ear drums like nails on a chalkboard. I ran into the next room to make sure the old woman was okay, but she was nowhere to be found. So the nosey side of me decided to snoop a bit.

As I was pretended to be a Hardy boy, I noticed a door open that looked to lead to a cellar. I instantly thought to myself that maybe she had fallen down the stairs and hurt herself. I poked my head in the doorway and called out to her, "Are you okay?"


I thought even worse, she could have been knocked unconscious. I rushed down the stairs, nearly tumbling over my feet myself. When I finally got to the bottom of the steps, the old woman emerged out of nowhere stabbing me with a pencil, yes a pencil. She continued to strike me a few other times before I managed to make my way back to the stairs. I stumbled but I finally reached the upstairs. Luckily for me, the old woman couldn't keep her grip on me and ended up tripping over the bottom step.

I ran the fuck out of there. I'm not sure, but I'm positive I swung the door open so hard the hinges broke off.

I ran back home looking over my shoulder every few seconds like they do in horror movies when you're yelling at the screen, "Stop turning around dumbass!"

I blew through my front door so fast, the door handle had to be replaced.

I found my parents and told them the whole story. My mom called the police immediately and within minutes the police had surrounded her house.

Turns out the rumors I had heard as a kid were true...well sort of true.

She wasn't so much a witch, as much as she was a serial killer. After some time, I started to think back about the whole incident. It had happened so quickly, the whole thing seemed like a blur. When I first got to the bottom of the stairs, I had noticed a hand laying on the floor. I never got all the way in so I think it didn't register at first. When the police investigated her home, they found several human skulls buried under the cement floor of her cellar and what seemed to be the remains of several bodies.

Explains the gym sock smell.

Submitted: November 11, 2020

© Copyright 2021 Griff D. Con. All rights reserved.

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