I'm Not Stupid (my first shot at a scary story)

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by PossiblyAwesome

by PossiblyAwesome

I stared up at the ceiling, shivering under a thin blanket in the old, abandoned house. It was around midnight, and I was starting to regret my desicion.

But I'm not stupid. I can't back out now.

"Hey, Jake," I remember my best friend, Dillon, saying, with that mischevious look on his face that always meant trouble. "I dare you to spend the night in the Legman house."

There's a rule they don't tell you about when you hit the age of 14; you'd better do all of the stupid, possibly dangerous dares that all of your friends give you, or suffer the humility of being a chicken.

I'm not stupid, so I took the dare. I've got a reputation to uphold.

The house was this four-story mansion from 1893 or something. The last family to live in it were the Legman's, who disappeared two weeks after they moved in.

No one who's ever lived in the house has made it for more than a month afterward. That why all the kids think it's haunted.

I'm not stupid, though. There's nothing in this house besides me, some old furniture, and the sound of Dillon, who was outside in a sleeping bag, snoring.

That was when I heard the first scream, bloodcurdling and high-pitched.

I sat bolt upright, already in a cold sweat. Calm down, I told myself. You're not stupid. There's nothing in this house but you.

A second scream echoed through the house.

I felt like I was in a horror movie, directly in the scene where the unsuspecting character goes to help the person.

I'm not stupid. I knew I was in a horror movie.

Don't back out now, I told myself. Stay in the house.

Suddenly, a knife soared through the air towards me, and I ducked. It slammed into the wall, sticking there.

I whipped around and saw her, a girl who looked like she'd been in the house for over a century. She grinned, but not a good type of grin. And one other thing terrified me.

There was a knife in her hand.

And I wasn't sticking around to find out what she would use it for.

I bolted from the house, and slammed the door behind me, making Dillon wake up.

He grinned when he saw me.

"Chicken."

But I'm not stupid. I'd rather live my life a chicken then not live it at all.

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So...I feel like I have some explaining to do with this one.

Basically, my local newspaper is doing this contest where we have to write a scary story, and the winner gets (GASP) 25 dollars, and gets their story published in the paper.

Now, I wouldn't have done the contest, BUT my ELA teacher decided to make it a grade, sooo I'm doing it. And I thought that maybe you guys would like to read my first horror story.

So...yeah. I know it kind of sucks, but there it is.