Storytelling & Gullibility

It had only been a week since James Fibber began attending Millston Middle School, but he was already behaving like he had lived there his whole life. He had made several friends, but one of them severely intrigued him. His name was Max Pall. In contrast to James' black hair and green eyes, Max had brown hair and eyes. One comment Max made that day triggered one of James' most notorious characteristics, his tendency to cook up fascinating stories.

"James" Whispered Max, as he always did. James never quite understood why Max was always whispering, but he though tit might have something to do with his cowardice and gullibility.

"What?" James responded as he looked up at Max. Max was at least half a foot taller than James, who had always been short and round.

"I was just listening to the other boys," By the way, Max had a terrible habit of eavesdropping. "They say your house is haunted... and... and, they say someone... um... was murdered in there, and his ghost... um ... is gonna get you!" James noticed that Max had raised his voice and pitch so much during his account that everyone in the room was now staring at them.

This was what James enjoyed the most, attention. He raised the volume of his voice just enough so those nearby could hear what he had to say, "They're right Max. I didn't want to tell you,but you've forced it out of me. My house really is haunted." James sped up his talking, "Their once was a man named Alexander Dolazar. He came to this town straight out of the Russian Military. He built the old house down the street... my house. He lived alone,like he had in Russia, but he had very irritating neighbors. Neighbors who were always outside shooting state-of-the-art rifles,as if they were preparing for war."

James stopped and looked around. Several of the other boys had gathered around them to listen to the tale. This only encouraged him to continue, "One day Alexander decided he would pay his neighbors a little visit. He banged on the door... nothing. After waiting a few minutes he returned home."

James paused to allow everyone to gather their thoughts on the account before continuing, "Later that night there was a heavy knock on his door. He sprinted to door and unlocked it,knowing that the person would probably be soaked from the heavy rain that had been falling since dusk. Alexander quickly opened the door and let his new guest inside. He was a tall man with short black hair and cold, dark eyes.

He walked up to Alexander and extended his hand. Alexander readily accepted the handshake, but as the man's hand retreated Alexander saw something he never thought he would see in America. On the back of the man's right hand was a red tattoo of an eagle with a rifle in his left talon. It was the symbol of a little-known Russian revolution group, a group he was sent to destroy when he was in the military. He had lost many men in that skirmish,but the records had shown that the revolutionaries were entirely wiped out. Now everything made sense to him. The remaining revolutionaries had escaped to America where they were preparing to return and start an armed insurrection in Russia. Alexander drew the pistol from his side and took the shot before the man even had time to respond. The man fell over as his ghost was released into the house, where it remains today as it seeks to make all who enter join him in death."

By now everyone in the room was staring at James, some terrified, others nonchalant. Everybody in the room was startled when the end-of-the-day bell rang. Max was shaking as he watched James casually leave the room, leaving Max to contemplate his well-crafted story.