Hi there! My name is Dan Barbour, the Young Adult Librarian at the Shrewsbury Public Library. The talent of the teens and tweens in Shrewsbury is incredible. I would challenge any other community to rival the skills of our young writers. This is the first post on the new teen writer's blog so I thought it would be only fitting to kick off the first entry with a real winning story - so that's exactly what I'm going to do.
The Library recently held a writing competition. Over 80 stories were submitted, and our two finalists were just announced. I am going to post the winning story below, and the runner-up story the week after. If you are a teen writer, and would like to submit your story to this blog, e-mail it to dbarbour@cwmars.org for review.
So here it is, the winner of the first Shrewsbury Public Library Writing Competition:
Blood Cabin by Matthew Romano
It came from the west into northern New Hampshire. It came when the time was right - when the sun was down and the sky pitch black. It came when the snowstorm began - hiding in the damp woods, and living off of animals blood.
“My god, it’s freezing in here,” Anne Henderson said, as she rubbed her hands together to create friction. She was sitting next to the glowing fireplace inside of her husband’s secluded winter cabin. “Did you figure out how to turn the heat on?”
Paul Henderson came into the living room from out in the hall, scratching his head. “No. The thermostat’s busted, I can tell. Damn.”
Anne sighed. “Well, what are we going to do then? You know our friends are coming in two hours. And I’m sure not going to let them freeze to death in here. Got it?”
The thirty-two year old woman was stressed enough as it was. It was Paul’s idea to have a party at his family’s cabin. He promised her that he would take care of everything, - from packing things, to getting dinner for all of them. But one thing she was annoyed with was that he didn’t even bother getting the cabin in shape. He did not make certain it was all set, making sure everything worked, and most importantly making sure it was heated up, instead of having some small fire from the fireplace that barely produced any warmth.
Anne knew that Paul must have thought about the cabin sometime or another, but obviously never got to cleaning it. That was Paul in a nutshell. Focusing on the minor things instead of focusing on the important items.
“I don‘t know what we’re going to do, alright?” Paul snarled, plopping down on the leather couch centered around the fireplace.
Anne shook her head in disbelief. “You should have gotten this stuff done a while ago. Now we’re in a pickle. Great job.”
“Shut up! I don’t need you to add to my stress!” Paul yelled, stomping his foot on the ground. He pulled out his cell phone and quickly dialed one of his friend’s numbers. Patiently, he waited, listening to the beeps, with the sound of the fire crackling in the background.
Seconds later, friend’s voice message came on. Groaning, he hung up the phone and put it back in his pocket. “No answer.”
The couple stayed silent, wondering how they were going to act in this situation. Anne had her back turned, fixing the fire with the fireplace poker, and trying to get some warmth.
Paul stared at the rug. What if the toilet was broken. What if the oven was broken. What if he forgot to pack something important? He always worried too much about almost everything. He knew this, but felt like he couldn’t get control of himself. The worrying and the stress- it just wouldn’t go away. It was overpowering.
He rose off the couch and pulled the hood from his sweatshirt over his head and face. Anne watched as he walked to the front door. Paul halted at the doorway and turned to face Anne.
“I’m going into town to find a heater before they come. Hopefully that’ll prevent us from turning into ice cubes,” he sarcastically said.
Anne frowned and turned away from him, throwing back her golden hair. She took the fireplace poker and started rolling the flaming logs into place. “Just don’t be gone too long,” she uttered, without looking at him. “Oh, and get me some coffee on the way back. I would appreciate it.”
Paul stood where he was with hands on his hips. “Look, I’m sorry. Okay? My god, our marriage has already been suffering enough and now there’s this.”
It was true. For the past few months, their once-happy marriage had gone down the drain. They had constantly been arguing with each other, stopped having conversations, and were searching for excuses to get out of the house away from each other. Anne thought a divorce would be the right thing to do at the moment, but couldn’t bring herself to it. She loved Paul with all her heart and couldn’t figure out what happened along the way that caused them to be in such a bad situation. He was just trying to get back on track and to have a happy marriage again.
She remained silent, smacking her lips together and clearing her throat, before speaking out. “I forgive you. Now please just hurry up and go. I’ll ring you on your cell if they come early.”
Paul looked in her eyes. “Can I give you a kiss before I leave?”
“No. I’m not in the mood.”
He said nothing and stared at her for a couple more seconds before walking outside and shutting the door behind him.
Anne looked down, regretting her actions. She felt like rushing out and apologizing, but something deep inside made her resist.
Paul walked to the SUV, his boots stomping in the mushy snow. He inhaled the cool, crisp air and climbed inside the vehicle. He fumbled in his pockets for the key, and put it in the keyhole. The SUV immediately started up, billows of smoke rising from the exhaust pipe. It sped off into the distance, pushing through the heavy blankets of snow.
Paul took his right hand off the steering wheel and got out a cigarette and lighter from the glove compartment. He carefully lit the cigarette in his mouth while focusing ahead of him. Snow had almost completely covered the bottom half of the windshield and it‘s corners, making it difficult to see what was ahead.
As he put the lighter and matches back into the glove compartment, there was a sudden bang on the door that made him jump and spit out the cigarette. Paul let go out of the gas pedal, screeching the car to a halt. His heart was beating rapidly like drumsticks hitting against a drumhead.
Paul looked around in all directions to see what hit his car, but there was nothing, except icy trees and piles of snow. He turned the ignition switch off, opened the door, and stepped out into the cold, a strong breeze brushing against his face. Looking at the door, his jaw dropped in shock. There was a large dent buried into it. Blood was smeared over it and it was dripping into the snow. Shaken, Paul hurried back into the vehicle. His heart was still beating fast and drops of sweat were rolling down his cheek. His hands were trembling as he gripped the steering wheel. He stared out the window, gazing through the trees and snow banks.
Two pale white hands shot out from behind the darkness of the drivers seat and grabbed Paul’s throat, throwing him back into his seat. He huffed and puffed trying to pull the hands away, but it was no use. He tried turning around but the hands kept a strong hold on him. His head was bashed against the window repeatedly. Paul was thrown backwards, collapsing onto the floor, wheezing and gasping for air. He looked up and saw a shadowed figure standing above him. It had fiery red eyes that stared seemingly into his soul. It picked him up by the hair and immediately plunged it’s sharp teeth into his neck. Paul let out a blood curling scream as everything around him started to fade away in a blur.
Anne sighed as she watched the burning logs in front of her. She was thinking about Paul. We all have problems, she thought. Paul’s problem is that he’s a big worrier and nervous wreck. But he can’t help it at the moment - just like somebody can’t help having allergies. That’s who he is, and I have to accept it. After all, I love him to death.
Just as she was about to get up and get a glass of wine, the lights flickered off. She shrieked for a second, and then froze in her tracks. She could hear the fire crackling next to her and the whistling of the wind from outside. Anne calmed herself down and got up off of the floor. She walked to the front door. Anne peered out of one of the windows and examined the area. Nothing but snow and trees surrounding her. She heaved the door open and stepped outside into the cold.
“God, it’s frigid. Those meteorologists don‘t know jack about the temperature,” she murmured to herself, running around to the back of the cabin. She halted at the power box and couldn‘t believe the sight that was before her eyes.
The box was wide open. All the wires were cut in half. The cover lay on the ground, ripped viciously off of it’s hinges. She slowly kneeled down and picked it up. Drops of cherry reddish liquid were on it. Anne dipped her finger in the substance and smelled it. It was the smell of fresh blood. Horrified, she tossed the cover away and ran back into the cabin, locking the bolts on the door.
Her adrenaline had kicked in and she could feel her heart pounding violently in her chest. Anne’s hair was standing on end and her face was as red as a tomato. As she panted, tears started to roll down her cheeks. Millions of thoughts raced in her head. What happened to the power box, why was it ripped open, and most importantly why was there blood on it?
Paul couldn’t be behind this, she thought. He drove off into town to get a heater and coffee before our friends came. He wouldn’t try to scare me either. Paul knows that I hate being scared, and would not be strong enough to rip the cover off like that.
As she thought deeper about this, the more petrified she became. Anne darted to her purse resting on the couch and, reaching in, pulled out her cell phone. She quickly dialed Paul’s number and anxiously waited for him to pick up. “Come on Paul, answer the phone.”
As the phone dialed, her anxiety began to grow. “Please Paul! For gods sake, answer the damn phone!”
The beeps stopped. There was silence. Then she finally heard Paul’s voice.
“PAUL! Oh god Paul, help me! I don’t know what’s going on! The electricity is gone, the wires are cut, and…..”
Anne stopped talking. She realized that it was only Paul’s voice recording. Her heart sunk and the sense of relief she just had was gone. She hung up the phone and put it down. Starting to panic, she got out a flashlight that she had packed in her purse earlier, and hastily walked down the hall into the basement, bounding down the wooden stairs. She turned the flashlight on and shined it ahead of her. To her left was a small shelf and on top was an axe. She snatched the axe with her right hand and turned back, making her way towards the stairs.
Something crashed and made a loud bang. Anne shined the flashlight around the basement. She gulped and started to perspire, the sweat from her face pouring down like a waterfall.
Another crash. Startled, she shined the flashlight in the direction the sound was coming from. Behind a stack of boxes came a tall, thin, bald and pale man dressed in a black overcoat and dark brown shoes. His eyes were fiery red. His teeth were pointed sharply, and blood was trickling down his chin. He grinned and stepped towards her.
Anne tried to scream, but all that came out were short, rasping coughs. Taking steps back, she swung mindlessly at him trying to defend herself. She reached the railing and sprinted up the stairwell, slamming the door shut behind her. She raced down the hall and into the kitchen, banging her ankle on the counter and losing her balance. She fell onto the floor and dropped the axe.
Exhausted and aching with pain, she lifted herself up by grabbing onto the counter draw handles. Anne took the axe and limped out the door into the snow.
Anne’s left leg was badly bruised and cut, ready to give out any minute. She remained silent and still, armed with the axe.
She heard footsteps, becoming louder. She gulped and aimed the axe in front of her. The footsteps stopped. Her eyes bulged and her veins were popping. A figure of a man seemed to materialize out of the corner of the hallway. The man walked towards her.
“What do you want! Why are you doing this to me!” Anne hollered, sobbing uncontrollably.
“Meus nomen est Vladimere.” the man growled, lowering his eyebrows. “lux lucis of dies est extinguished. cruor of meus ancestors cries sicco parumper vegetus victor.”
The man, who’s name to Anne seemed to be Vladimere, uttered a low chuckle as he closed in on her. In desperation, Anne ran forward and struck him in the stomach with the axe. He yelled and fell on his legs.
Vladimere bounced up and attacked Anne, who dropped the axe. She backed up, and bumped into the groceries sitting on the countertop. Reaching into the bag, she threw any object she could find at him.
He kept moving forward. All she had left in the bag was a clove of garlic. As she held the garlic above her head ready to throw, Vladimere hissed and backed away. Anne stared at the garlic, then at Vladimere and waived it toward him. She walked forward, holding the garlic in front of her. Vladimere continued to hiss and back away. She swiped the axe off of the floor and backed him up into the corner of the hall.
Anne raised the axe over her head while still holding the garlic and furiously swung it at his head, decapitating him. Blood splattered everywhere and his head rolled down the hall, leaving behind a trail of oozing blood. She limped out the door with the axe, and into the cold.
“SOMEBODY! HELP ME!” Anne screamed at the top of her lungs. She continued on, hobbling and pushing through the snow with her legs. She saw something in the distance. At first she thought it was her imagination, but when she got closer, she realized it was for real. Their SUV, in the middle of the snow. Even with her injured leg, Anne ran as fast as she could. Finally, she reached the car and quickly jumped in, realizing it was unlocked. She turned the ignition key, and the car started up. She stepped on the gas and sped off.
Anne heard breathing on her neck. She looked in the rear view mirror and saw Paul standing over her, his eyes fiery red and blood trickling down his chin. She let out a blood curling scream ………
The End
