By Raquel Korman, age 7
 Joan Mosher/ Special to the Town Crier |
Halloween contest inspires this selection of haunting tales
God bless the gorillas
By Lorraine E. Guidi, Los Altos
My story goes back many years, to the time my kids went trick-or-treating with their dad while I stayed home to give treats to children coming to my door. When the doorbell rang it was almost 10 p.m., a time by which I thought most children were finished trick-or-treating and were busy sorting out their treats. My children and their dad were still at it down the street.
I really wasn’t comfortable opening the door that late, specially since I was all alone, but I did.
This “gorilla” was standing there, and I thought, What a great costume! So I handed “it” my goody, a yummy Almond Joy. “It” reached for the treat, grabbed my hand along with it, and walked in and closed the door behind it! My face must have gone white, my knees almost buckled, I was breathless, when the “gorilla” started to laugh - and with great relief I recognized the voice! It was my 75-year-old neighbor who, I learned later, had trunks full of costumes because she organized events for churches and schools.
Well, I must say, I have not been a great fan of Halloween since then, but hey, I love seeing the little ones parading joyfully down the street. God bless them.
The spooky Halloween
Once upon a time, as any story starts, there was a spooky house. In the house there lived Mean Witch, Nasty Witch and Horrible Witch. Each Halloween they went out scaring children. But each witch had a secret. No one knew their secrets, not even the other witches. Mean Witch’s secret was the power of zombies. Nasty Witch’s secret was the ghosts of the fire. And Horrible Witch’s secret was the power of the children.
One Halloween night, the three witches went out disguised. Mean Witch had on a cat costume, Nasty Witch was dressed as a pumpkin and Horrible Witch was a skeleton. Mean Witch said, “What a spooky Halloween!”
Nasty Witch said, “What a nasty costume.”
And Horrible Witch said, “Let’s get on with it.” (She was always in a hurry.)
Now the problem started. The witches walked up to the first house to scare the children. But they couldn’t even agree on who was going to ring the bell. They started to argue. The neighborhood children passed them on the way to the house and saw the cat and the pumpkin yelling at each other. Finally, Mean Witch couldn’t take it anymore and she turned Nasty Witch into a zombie. “That’ll keep you quiet,” Mean Witch said and started to walk up to the house.
“Oh no, you don’t,” thought Nasty Witch and turned Mean Witch into a ghost of fire.
Well, this was creating a ruckus down on Springer Terrace. Horrible Witch needed some help. It was time for her to use the power of the children. Rushing from house to house, she got all the kids in the neighborhood to come and throw their candy onto the other witches to break their spells. The children gave all three witches career counseling that night, which proved again that the strongest power of all is the power of children.
The ride not taken
By Rita Jamison, Los Altos
One Halloween morning, not many years ago, as I lay snug in my bed in the bleak hours before dawn, a buzzing sound brought me to consciousness. Had I dreamed of bees swarming to a new home? Wide awake now, I listened as the buzz escalated to a shrill whine, as if metal were scraping against metal.
Trapped in a whirlpool of sound, I threw back the covers, turned on the lights, and clapped both hands over my ears. Where could the awful noise be coming from?
I peered through the bedroom window into our back yard. Framed by a murky sky, the towering oak and acacia trees stood silhouette still. But when on impulse I slid open the window, the wail exploded around me and into the room. It was coming from the roof directly above!
Was I the only one to hear it? Why didn’t the lights come on in the neighbors’ windows?
I grabbed my terry cloth robe, secured the cord around my waist, and flew down the stairs. The sound followed me like a searchlight tracking an escapee across a prison yard. In the family room, I seemed to float to the sliding glass door that opens onto the deck. The familiar act of fumbling with the damaged latch brought me back to reality. Hadn’t I read about flying saucers snatching up humans? Dare I show myself to whatever was out there, hovering above the roof of my home?
I rushed upstairs and dialed 911. When the dispatcher answered, I told her my story and held the phone to the window. Relieved that she heard the noise, too, though it now seemed farther away, I took a deep breath. No longer alone, I began to relax. A patrol car would report back.
“A burglar alarm malfunctioned in the Hills,” the patrolman told me, giving me the name of the street. “The house is unoccupied.”
The next morning I skipped breakfast, checked a map, drove my Honda to the street named by the officer, and read the odometer.
Is it possible for a sound to roll three miles downhill - past homes, orchards and a school - to be ultimately heard by only one person in a home surrounded by four others? Or had my name been drawn in some interplanetary lottery for a test drive in a UFO? Every year since then, when it’s Halloween time, with just a tinge of regret I recall the incident. And wonder, “Did I miss out on a ride with a savvy witch who had traded her broomstick for the controls of a spaceship?”
“Trick or treat”
By Alexis Wise, fifth grade, Pinewood School
We can all go crazy on Hallowe’en night
To give everyone we see a big fright.
Monsters, ghouls, costumes galore,
Tiptoeing up to the neighboring door.
You go up as if on little cat feet,
Ready to yell, “Trick or treat!”
Munching and crunching on tons of candy
Not sharing with Kayla, Jane or Andy.
Almost midnight, “Oh no!”
Soon we will have to go home.
We are finally back on our own street,
Waiting for next year to yell, “Trick or treat!”
It is finally over and I can’t wait
Because next year will be great.
Already choosing what to be,
Maybe a beautiful princess filled with glee.
All different costumes, nothing can beat
Getting ready to yell, “Trick or treat!”
Ghouls galore
By Julian Wise, third grade, Pinewood School
Once there was a skeleton who lived in a haunted house with a zombie, bats, goblins and a pumpkin. Whenever someone came in they would jump out and yell, “Boo!” One day, someone came in. So they yelled, “Boo!” But the person wasn’t scared.
“Why wasn’t the person scared?” asked the skeleton.
“Let’s go find out,” said the zombie. So they went out … to find everyone trick-or-treating.
A final farewell
By Marie Brazil, Los Altos
My grandfather’s second wife, Alma, died the day after her birthday in December 1963.
Within the first week, Pops managed to leave a pot burning on the stove on two separate occasions. Since he was heading for his 91st birthday, we grandchildren thought it safer for him to be taken care of at San Francisco’s Laguna Honda Home, where he could get free care.
Although he vigorously fought leaving his home, by the time I visited him at Laguna Honda the following week he seemed content. He told me he was well fed and had even found some men to play poker with. His only complaint was that he had been stopped at the door when he’d tried to go out for a beer. With his independent soul, I felt he would attempt his escape another day. The thought of him wandering in an unaccustomed neighborhood worried me.
For his birthday, I told him I’d take him to lunch. I’d find a place that served steak, French fries and beer. Upon this suggestion, he replied, “You know, I never thought I’d live to be 91. All the things I’ve seen in my life. I remember the 1898 World’s Fair in Brussels, when King Leopold invited native chieftains from Africa. They wore skins on their bodies and big feathers in their hair. I even bought shares in an African diamond mine, but nothing came of it.”
Before I left, I got his sports outfit and dropped it off at the cleaners in preparation for his day out. I phoned the bakery and ordered a sheet cake, planning to share it with his roommates after our luncheon.
The day before his birthday a doctor phoned to say that my grandfather had a high fever with flu symptoms. Since he had been put in the infirmary, I was unable to speak with him on the day of his birthday, but the doctor assured me we could have our celebration the following week.
The next day I had to work at my part-time job. My habit was to take a short nap, get up at four, prepare dinner for my family and leave the house by five. That day, for some reason, I couldn’t get to sleep. At 3:40, after looking at the clock every few minutes, I decided to get up and prepare dinner. As I sat up, I was shocked to see my grandfather standing at the end of my bed.
“Pops, what are you doing here?” I asked.
Without answering, he disappeared. I then realized he had been standing in front of my mirror, but there had been no reflection. I had looked through him. I shook my head. I must be imagining things.
As I prepared dinner, the memory of what had occurred wouldn’t leave. At four o’clock the phone rang.
“I’m Mr. Simmons, director at Laguna Honda. I’m sorry to inform you that your grandfather died 20 minutes ago.”
(Pops died the day after his birthday and one month after Alma.)
The Dread Man
By Lawrence Jau, fourth grade, Bullis-Purissima School
His mother was creepy and his father was creepy, but the Dread Man was creepier than the two of them put together and he had a very sharp sword. By the time he could talk and walk, he could handle his horse, sword and shield.
The Dread Man lived in a haunted house. When people looked at the Dread Man’s horse, the horse would chase them out of the Dread Man’s haunted house. Anybody brave enough to go into his house got trapped or was scared and chased out by the other creatures in the house.
One day two aliens kidnapped his horse when he was sleeping. When he woke up he couldn’t go fast anymore because he’d lost his horse. And soon more and more people came. The witches, Frankenstein, the zombies, vampires, skeletons and other creatures tried to scare the people out, but without the Dread Man’s horse they couldn’t do it.
One day Lawrence came to the house. He heard lots of noises - “ahh,” “ahahaha,” “hohoho” and “eeeee.” Lawrence was really scared. Soon he fell into a hole. Then he stepped on something, and he landed outside and ran away.
The Dread Man and the other creatures got into a group and decided to search for the horse. They searched for two days and then came to a dungeon. There they found the horse, but there were two aliens guarding it. The aliens fought the Dread Man’s team, but they were beaten. The Dread Man got on his horse and went back to the haunted house and scared everybody out. And no one ever came there again.
Goowacufi
By Katelyn Lo, fourth grade, Bullis School
His father was extremely ugly and his mother was extremely ugly, but Goowacufi was even more ugly than both of them put together. By the time he could stomp, Goowacufi’s tails were full-grown and he could whip with them and spit goo out of his mouth. With just a look he could make all the animals around him disappear in a blink. Any animal trying to be nice to Goowacufi would soon die.
Goowacufi had three horns on his head that could blow out fire, ice cubes and water. He had one tiny hand and one huge hand and could look in all different directions. He had two tails that could whip people so hard they’d wish they were dead. But he would never do that. He was really nice, but no one knew that. He lived in a place called Antropolia, where monsters live.
Everybody teased him and called him a nice wimp. His parents tried to explain to him how monsters weren’t supposed to act nice, but Goowacufi just couldn’t stop being nice. Since everybody teased him and made fun of him, he decided to run away to Earth. He planned to find a home and be nice.
When he lived in Antropolia, he thought it was normal to live in scary places like deserted houses. When he got to Earth, he went to a small woodland. Goowacufi couldn’t think of a way to get somebody to help him, so he just sat there. It was close to Halloween when he got there. On Halloween, a dog ran away from its family because he got scared of all the Halloween decorations. The dog ran all the way to the woods that Goowacufi lived in. The dog sat down and rested. When the dog saw Goowacufi, the dog just thought it was a kid in costume. The dog and Goowacufi introduced themselves to each other. The dog’s name was Kalodo. When Kalodo asked, “Where’s your candy?” Goowacufi said, “What candy?”
“Aren’t you a kid going trick-or-treating?” asked Kalodo.
“No,” said Goowacufi, “I’m a monster.”
Kalodo shouted, “What! Why aren’t you mean, then?”
“I was the only nice monster where I lived, so I ran away,” said Goowacufi sadly.
Kalodo said, “I know what you can do. If you really miss your homeland, make a friend here. Bring him or her back to your homeland.”
“Can you be my friend?” Goowacufi asked hopefully.
“Sure, why not,” Kalodo said. “Let’s head back to your homeland.”
When they started walking, both of them dropped into a long black hole that led to a cage. “What are we going to do?” whispered Goowacufi.
Then Kalodo slipped out of the cage and said, “I’ll go and try to find the keys.”
Kalodo was walking and then stopped because he saw an elephant turning into a monster with a zap of yellow stuff. Kalodo thought he should hurry.
Then Kalodo saw the cage keys and grabbed them and ran quickly back to Goowacufi.
When Goowacufi got out they quietly went to the door, and Goowacufi burned it down because they didn’t have the key.
When they got back to Goowacufi’s homeland, anybody who teased Goowacufi would be bitten by Kalodo.
Goowacufi and Kalodo were best friends, and Goowacufi finally lived happily ever after.
Slimy Sand Dragon Fairy
By Catherine Molina, fourth grade, Bullis-Purissima School
She was uglier than her mother and father put together, and Slimy Sand Dragon Fairy was also uglier than any of her friends. By the time she could fly Slimy Sand Dragon Fairy could spit sand and throw sleep powder. With just a look she could freeze animals. Any boy fairy dumb enough to kiss her would turn into a blue frog.
On a dark, dreary night she was flying to her friend’s haunted castle in a graveyard. All the way to the castle, Slimy Sand Dragon Fairy felt that someone was following her. She quickly hid behind a tombstone. A purple dog with sharp teeth came out from the other side of the graveyard. She tried to spit sand and throw sleep powder, but neither of the two worked. The dog kept coming closer and closer and closer. Finally, the dog was 4 feet away and was snarling, barking and pawing the ground.
She sneaked into her friend’s castle when the dog wasn’t looking, and closed the door. She asked her friend if she had ever seen this dog, but she said, “No, I’ve never seen this dog before, but I know he walks all over this graveyard every day. I have tried all my best powers to get rid of him, but none have worked.”
Slimy Sand Dragon Fairy thought of a potion she had never used before. She and her friend made the potion by getting poisonous leaves and plants. She called the potion “Leave C Plant.” Slimy Sand Dragon Fairy sprayed it on the dog, and he turned into a little three-headed centipede and quietly crawled away.
She was happy that she’d made the dog into something smaller than her and something that was scared of her. The three-headed centipede never came to the graveyard again and never followed people who came to the graveyard.
Bouncing Head
By Larinia Lurrink, fourth grade, Bullis-Purissima School
His mother was ugly, and his father was ugly, but Bouncing Head was uglier than his mother and father. By the time he wobbled he could bounce his head and stretch his arms, and he’d become very fat. Bouncing Head thought he was the most handsome creature in the world, but others thought differently. Any ant could beat him in running.
Bouncing Head lived in a creepy green wooden house in the woods. If someone knocked on the door the whole house would break into a thousand pieces, Bouncing Head’s neck would fall off, and his eyes would pop out!
One day, a rainy day with lots of thunder, there came a monkey who was named Monkey-Bonky. He knocked on the door. Guess what? It broke into a thousand pieces, and Bouncing Head’s eyes popped out and his neck fell off! In a few moments it was very quiet, and Monkey-Bonky cried that he’d killed somebody. Then all of a sudden the head came out of all that stuff and said, “Stop crying. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know.” Bouncing Head said, “If you help me get back together I will help you make the house.”
They tried all different kinds of things to get Bouncing Head back together. They tried to glue his head. They tried sticky tape. And they even tried to hammer it. But it didn’t work. And then Monkey-Bonky had a great idea: to use a nail! And it worked. So Bouncing Head was back to normal, and it took several days to build the house again. They had a lot of fun, and Bouncing Head lived creepily ever after with Monkey-Bonky.
Frankenstein and Shorty
By Denise Tan, fourth grade, Bullis-Purissma School
His mother was ugly, his father was ugly, but Frankenstein was uglier than both of them put together. By the time he ran, Frankenstein could scratch people on the face, poke, be weird, and kill people with the thing on his neck.
With just one look Frankenstein could turn himself into a zombie. The problem was that Frankenstein was losing power. He tried everything. He tried drinking monster water, he tried eating more. But it wouldn’t work.
Then a monster named Shorty came by. He asked, “What’s wrong?”
Frankenstein said, “I’m losing power.”
Shorty said, “You can have some of my power.” Then Shorty asked, “Where do you live?”
Frankenstein said, “At the graveyard.”
Shorty said, “Cool.”
Frankenstein asked, “Where do you live?
Shorty said, “In the forest.”
Frankenstein said, “Let’s go to your house.”
They did. They played. Then Shorty said, “Let’s go to your house now.” They did that. They played and played until they were best friends.
The sock ghost
By Rebecca Luxton, Mountain View
Heather slammed her drawer shut and shrieked in rage, “No one else has to deal with a Nasty Old Ghost Who Chews Holes In Their Clothes!” She aimed a marble at the translucent, wispy shape filtering out of the drawer.
It frowned and whined plaintively, “But I like the way they taste!”
Rummaging in her closet, Heather ignored the whining and began to search for a pair of pants that weren’t chewed. A suspicion began to rise in her mind. “Wait” - she flipped garments over her shoulder at the ghost - “You … you haven’t started on my closet now, have you? And my Halloween costume! It’s ruined!”
When Heather got to school that day she spent all her time scheming a way to get revenge on the ghost for chewing up her costume. Drawing diagrams, writing instructions, she finally decided on a plan. On her way home she prepared a sock for the ghost. It liked dirty socks best.
When she arrived home her sister was putting on her costume. Heather did the same, deciding that she would be an extremely bedraggled monster for Halloween. Then she ran to her room and waved the sock tantalizingly in front of the ghost’s domain. It waivered, then dived inside the sock. Heather quickly tied the sock shut, trapping the ghost inside.
Just a few minutes later the doorbell rang. Heather ran to open it, the ghost happily eating the sock in her hand.
An extremely mean boy from school was standing outside the door. Grinning happily, Heather shoved the squirming sock into his hands and told him, “It’s full of candy.” She slammed the door shut and danced gracefully down the hall. The ghost was gone!
Gerald Hartman stood outside the door, wondering why Heather Smitford had just thrust a stinky sock into his hands.
One spooky night
By Siddharth Shankar, first grade, Bullis-Purissima School
One spooky night a pair of twins were walking down the road. Soon they were lost.
Then they found an old house. So they went inside.
“What do we do here?” they wondered. “We don’t know what to do.” BOO! A ghost jumped in front of them! “Aaahh,” they screamed. “Let’s get out of here!” They ran away. All the way home they kept screaming. When they got home the same ghost was waiting for them.
“Here we go again,” the twins said, and fainted.
The end.
The Diary
Stephen King, eat your heart out. Today’s traditions have spurred local amateur writers of all ages to write their own tributes to the spookiest night of the year.
In one case, a class of fourth-graders at Bullis-Purissima School all tried their hand at Halloween drama. You’ll notice a writing formula they used to get their stories started. A few writers, such as Rita Jamison, are frequent contributors to the Town Crier. Others are first timers whose first forays into publication are downright endearing.
We are awarding first-, second- and third-place honors among the contest contributors here. The winners and their prizes will be detailed next issue. Those of you who want to chime in with your favorite tales here, please do so by calling 948-9000 and asking for editor Bruce Barton. You can also e-mail him at bruceb@latc.com.
We hope you enjoy the following efforts. We certainly did.
By Ferris Jabr,Age 13, Los Altos
I looked out the car window, at my old house. I knew I would never live there again. My dad had found a job in another city, so we were moving. However, I wasn’t that sad. My family and I moved a lot. I hardly ever get the chance to stay in one place long enough to make friends. After a monotonous, four hour car ride, we arrived at our new house.
I entered the house, trudged upstairs and went into the room on the left. On the floor, I found three boxes labeled Rick’s Stuff.Two burly movers went down the right side of the hallway. I followed them and soon found a small staircase, which I cautiously climbed. The attic looked like any other although one object caught my eye in the corner lay a small, dust-covered chest. As I blew on it, I uncovered the name Amanda, carved on the top. Inside I found a tattered, brown book. As I began reading the nearly faded handwriting, I realized this was a diary.
10-1-78
Dear Diary,
Today we arrived at the new house. I like it a lot. Oh, it’s dinnertime.
- Amanda
10-7-78
Dear Diary,
Every one at school is really nice. I think I’m really fitting in. I have to go to school now.
- Amanda
10-10-78
Dear Diary,
I am really upset! My favorite hairbrush is missing. I don’t feel like writing anymore.
- Amanda
10-15-78
Dear Diary,
Today I came home and Copper was gone. I put up lost dog signs, but I fear the worst.
- Amanda
10-26-78
Dear Diary
I don’t know what is happening! This is really freaky. Both my red dress and my favorite necklace are missing. I just saw them this morning.
- Amanda
10-31-78
Dear Diary
I came home from school and my parents weren’t here. There was no note and I would have called them, but the phone is gone! This house is really weird. It’s as if it has made everything disappear! My pen! It’s disapp…
I looked up from the diary and went down the stairs.
“Mom,” I called. “Dad?” I called again. “Where are you?”
No reply. I went outside to see if they were helping the movers. The moving truck wasn’t there. The family car had also vanished. I turned around to go back inside the house, except there was no house to go back into. Only the chest, the diary and myself remained. As I approached the chest, I found the name Amanda had been replaced. It now read “Rick.”
