[IF YOU HAVEN'T READ LAST YEAR'S STORY, YOU MIGHT WANT TO READ HALLOWEEN 2012 FIRST]
HALLOWEEN—2013
Special Report: HALLOWEEN, October 31, 2013
“This is your investigative reporter, Nast E. Whiplash, talking to you live—and hoping to stay that way—directly from the home of Jennifer Slaughterly. We are here in her Bloodbath County living room with both Miss Slaughterly and her best friend Emily. Jennifer’s brother, Seth, could not be with us today…isn’t that right, Miss Slaughterly?”
“That’s right, Nast. He was too chicken to show up after what happened last year.”
Whiplash stepped closer to Jennifer, gripping his microphone tightly, “And just what did happen last year? Can you tell our viewing audience in case they are not familiar with your alleged paranormal occurrences?” He held his microphone near Jennifer’s lips.
“Well, Nast, there was nothing alleged about last year’s Halloween hauntings. Emily and I had set out our Ouija Board on the coffee table….”
“Is that the same board from last year set up right over there on that table?”
“That’s right, Nast. Same as before. We wanted to do everything just like it was last year, except my fraydie-cat brother wussed out on us this time.”
Whiplash moved closer to the coffee table as he said, “Please tell us what happened.”
“Well,” said Jennifer, “Emily and I…. Come on over here, Emily, and let’s show him.”
The two girls moved beside the low table and sat down on the couch. Whiplash followed, extending his microphone out. A sound technician raised a second microphone on the end of a pole, above them, but outside the camera’s view.
“See right here,” said Jennifer, putting her finger on a heart-shaped object resting on the Ouija Board. “This thingy is called a planchette. The little round window in it lets you view the letter the Spirit selects, so it can spell out words. If you ask a question, it will hover over the ‘Yes’ symbol at the upper left, or if the answer is ‘No,’ it will pause on this upper right one.”
The girls both placed their hands on the planchette. In only a moment, the device began to move slowly across the board, and paused over the letter B.
“Are you girls showing how the board would work if a ghost were operating it?” Whiplash asked.
“No,” said Emily, "we aren’t moving it, the Spirits are.”
The cameraman zoomed-in on the board, bringing the girls’ hands and the planchette into closer focus. The device slid over to the E, and across the lower line of letters to W.
“B-E-W,” Jennifer said. The pointer moved faster, and hovered in succession over the A, the R, and finally, the E.
Emily whispered the letters in order, “B-E-W-A-R-E.”
Jennifer shouted, “Beware! These Spirits are warning us about something.”
“Are you certain you aren’t—” the reporter began to say.
“We touch the planchette just lightly,” Jennifer explained, sitting up straight, and folding her arms over her chest. “We don’t move it around, and we have no idea what the words are...until—”
“That’s right,” Emily interrupted, crossing her arms over her upper body in support of Jennifer.
The planchette began moving again, although no one touched it. The reporter gaped, then looked suspicious. “There could be a magnet, or….”
The cameraman carefully tracked the device as the girls called out the letters. “D-A-N-G-E-R” they said in unison. Jennifer quickly added, “Beware, and Danger.”
“Your brother and his friend,” Whiplash said, “could be playing a trick on you. Just like what they did last year, hiding under the coffin in your yard and grabbing people as they went by.”
Jennifer gave the man a look, but a door at the end of the living room—opposite the front entrance—began to open and close rapidly.
“And I suppose her brother’s doing that, also?” Emily asked.
The girls cautiously approached, but the door continued to swing all the way back to the wall in its wide-open position, before slamming closed again.
Whiplash and his crew repositioned nearby. “We are seeing a door move with no visible force,” he said. “What room is behind there, Jennifer?”
“That’s the kitchen.” Immediately after her words, the microwave oven turned on, continued for a moment, and then the timer dinged. “I suppose Seth is doing that, too,” Jennifer said facetiously.
Emily pointed back towards the coffee table.
Everyone looked to see the Spirit board hovering in the air. The planchette zoomed rapidly from one letter to the next.
“What’s it saying?” Whiplash stammered.
The house lights went out. Only the small video camera’s monitor gave off a glow that lit up the operator’s face, but little else in the room. A fainter light issued intermittently through the kitchen door as the microwave came on for the third time.
Emily and Jennifer clung together while a howling wind buffeted the living room. The lights flicked on, then off. The brief illumination caught the cameraman backing toward the front door. The soundman huddled against a wall, his microphone pole no longer in the air. Whiplash, seemingly true to his name, was assailed by a dust devil that became a small tornado, sucking objects toward it. His hair stood straight up, either from fright, the wind, or electromagnetism.
Utter darkness followed.
The girls felt their way through the murky room to a blanket covering something in the corner. Emily removed the cover, and Jennifer found a pull-cord beneath it. She yanked twice, and an engine started, barely heard above the raging storm causing havoc throughout the room.
Long strings of what looked like Christmas lights sprung to life across the ceiling and the walls, powered by the portable generator. The girls fought the winds as they proceeded to the front door, and pulled themselves outside. Jennifer flipped on a special switch mounted to the outer wall. “Take that!” she yelled.
The storm disappeared, and in its place horrendous screams and howling filled the living room. Ghostly shapes flitted crazily about, and the news crew huddled together in the pale but festive light of hundreds of tiny decorative bulbs. The men no longer recorded the raging event.
The girls crossed the porch and descended the steps.
Jennifer said, “I knew our Faraday cage would work. We warned those creepy spirits last year, didn’t we?”
“Yeah, we sure did.”
The girls backed across the front lawn, holding hands as the medium-sized house groaned and shifted on its foundation. The girls clung to one another as the dwelling gained momentum, spinning like a top—and collapsed into a giant wormhole in the ground.
“My mom’s not going to like this,” Jennifer said.
Emily stared at the gaping hole. “What happened to the reporters?”
“Who knows?” Emily said, “But I warned Nast E. Whiplash when he first called, didn’t I?
“Yes you did.”
“Let’s go over to your house, Emily. We can Trick-or-Treat on the way.”
As the friends departed, Emily whispered, “What will we do for next Halloween?”
Jennifer smiled mischievously, “Oh, I’m sure I’ll think of something.”
“This is your investigative reporter, Nast E. Whiplash, talking to you live—and hoping to stay that way—directly from the home of Jennifer Slaughterly. We are here in her Bloodbath County living room with both Miss Slaughterly and her best friend Emily. Jennifer’s brother, Seth, could not be with us today…isn’t that right, Miss Slaughterly?”
“That’s right, Nast. He was too chicken to show up after what happened last year.”
Whiplash stepped closer to Jennifer, gripping his microphone tightly, “And just what did happen last year? Can you tell our viewing audience in case they are not familiar with your alleged paranormal occurrences?” He held his microphone near Jennifer’s lips.
“Well, Nast, there was nothing alleged about last year’s Halloween hauntings. Emily and I had set out our Ouija Board on the coffee table….”
“Is that the same board from last year set up right over there on that table?”
“That’s right, Nast. Same as before. We wanted to do everything just like it was last year, except my fraydie-cat brother wussed out on us this time.”
Whiplash moved closer to the coffee table as he said, “Please tell us what happened.”
“Well,” said Jennifer, “Emily and I…. Come on over here, Emily, and let’s show him.”
The two girls moved beside the low table and sat down on the couch. Whiplash followed, extending his microphone out. A sound technician raised a second microphone on the end of a pole, above them, but outside the camera’s view.
“See right here,” said Jennifer, putting her finger on a heart-shaped object resting on the Ouija Board. “This thingy is called a planchette. The little round window in it lets you view the letter the Spirit selects, so it can spell out words. If you ask a question, it will hover over the ‘Yes’ symbol at the upper left, or if the answer is ‘No,’ it will pause on this upper right one.”
The girls both placed their hands on the planchette. In only a moment, the device began to move slowly across the board, and paused over the letter B.
“Are you girls showing how the board would work if a ghost were operating it?” Whiplash asked.
“No,” said Emily, "we aren’t moving it, the Spirits are.”
The cameraman zoomed-in on the board, bringing the girls’ hands and the planchette into closer focus. The device slid over to the E, and across the lower line of letters to W.
“B-E-W,” Jennifer said. The pointer moved faster, and hovered in succession over the A, the R, and finally, the E.
Emily whispered the letters in order, “B-E-W-A-R-E.”
Jennifer shouted, “Beware! These Spirits are warning us about something.”
“Are you certain you aren’t—” the reporter began to say.
“We touch the planchette just lightly,” Jennifer explained, sitting up straight, and folding her arms over her chest. “We don’t move it around, and we have no idea what the words are...until—”
“That’s right,” Emily interrupted, crossing her arms over her upper body in support of Jennifer.
The planchette began moving again, although no one touched it. The reporter gaped, then looked suspicious. “There could be a magnet, or….”
The cameraman carefully tracked the device as the girls called out the letters. “D-A-N-G-E-R” they said in unison. Jennifer quickly added, “Beware, and Danger.”
“Your brother and his friend,” Whiplash said, “could be playing a trick on you. Just like what they did last year, hiding under the coffin in your yard and grabbing people as they went by.”
Jennifer gave the man a look, but a door at the end of the living room—opposite the front entrance—began to open and close rapidly.
“And I suppose her brother’s doing that, also?” Emily asked.
The girls cautiously approached, but the door continued to swing all the way back to the wall in its wide-open position, before slamming closed again.
Whiplash and his crew repositioned nearby. “We are seeing a door move with no visible force,” he said. “What room is behind there, Jennifer?”
“That’s the kitchen.” Immediately after her words, the microwave oven turned on, continued for a moment, and then the timer dinged. “I suppose Seth is doing that, too,” Jennifer said facetiously.
Emily pointed back towards the coffee table.
Everyone looked to see the Spirit board hovering in the air. The planchette zoomed rapidly from one letter to the next.
“What’s it saying?” Whiplash stammered.
The house lights went out. Only the small video camera’s monitor gave off a glow that lit up the operator’s face, but little else in the room. A fainter light issued intermittently through the kitchen door as the microwave came on for the third time.
Emily and Jennifer clung together while a howling wind buffeted the living room. The lights flicked on, then off. The brief illumination caught the cameraman backing toward the front door. The soundman huddled against a wall, his microphone pole no longer in the air. Whiplash, seemingly true to his name, was assailed by a dust devil that became a small tornado, sucking objects toward it. His hair stood straight up, either from fright, the wind, or electromagnetism.
Utter darkness followed.
The girls felt their way through the murky room to a blanket covering something in the corner. Emily removed the cover, and Jennifer found a pull-cord beneath it. She yanked twice, and an engine started, barely heard above the raging storm causing havoc throughout the room.
Long strings of what looked like Christmas lights sprung to life across the ceiling and the walls, powered by the portable generator. The girls fought the winds as they proceeded to the front door, and pulled themselves outside. Jennifer flipped on a special switch mounted to the outer wall. “Take that!” she yelled.
The storm disappeared, and in its place horrendous screams and howling filled the living room. Ghostly shapes flitted crazily about, and the news crew huddled together in the pale but festive light of hundreds of tiny decorative bulbs. The men no longer recorded the raging event.
The girls crossed the porch and descended the steps.
Jennifer said, “I knew our Faraday cage would work. We warned those creepy spirits last year, didn’t we?”
“Yeah, we sure did.”
The girls backed across the front lawn, holding hands as the medium-sized house groaned and shifted on its foundation. The girls clung to one another as the dwelling gained momentum, spinning like a top—and collapsed into a giant wormhole in the ground.
“My mom’s not going to like this,” Jennifer said.
Emily stared at the gaping hole. “What happened to the reporters?”
“Who knows?” Emily said, “But I warned Nast E. Whiplash when he first called, didn’t I?
“Yes you did.”
“Let’s go over to your house, Emily. We can Trick-or-Treat on the way.”
As the friends departed, Emily whispered, “What will we do for next Halloween?”
Jennifer smiled mischievously, “Oh, I’m sure I’ll think of something.”