It Was A Dark And Stormy Night

 

It was a dark and stormy night and I was sitting all alone. The cold porch ground lay beneath me, poking me. I was lonely, with no one to talk to, and only myself to listen to. I remembered the day when I was brought home. I was gently laid in the back of a fire engine red Toyota. Also in the car were a young girl and her parents. They were discussing names for me: Peter (Peter Pumpkin Eater), Jack (Jump Over the Candlestick), Mary (Mary Quite Contrary), and many, many more. When we got home, the girl, delighted to be able to carry me, gently picked me up and took me inside. That is when I fell asleep and awoke to find myself here, on the porch. I wasn't sure how I got there, or why I had been put there. All I knew was that I was there.

Next, strange shapes started floating by me, some coming up the steps towards me, others along the street away from me. Some shapes had triangular objects on their heads. Others were monsters, with slimy, green goop dripping down their faces. All were scary, and none were ordinary. Shrieks of joy and laughter came from small children and monsters after objects of all shapes and sizes were carelessly tossed in containers that were held in their hands. The containers were all shapes; some buckets, some bags, some boxes. Some were obviously heavy; the monsters dragging them were having obvious problems lugging them along the road. Occasionally there would be a ripping noise and thousands of the small objects would come flooding out of the bag. After a brief crying period, the monster would trudge home, only to return with a new bag.

Strangely, the objects and monsters that came to my house rang a bell, but when at other houses people would answer it, nothing happened at my house. The monsters would just walk back down the steps, to try the house next to us. I wondered where the girl and her parents were, and why they weren't making the monsters happy by putting objects in their bags.

Soon the shapes disappeared, and again there was no one to talk to, or look at. I wanted the girl to come home, take me inside and wrap me in a nice, warm blanket. Only then would I ever fall asleep again. So I sat and I sat. My eyes were fixed on a strange man standing in the middle of a yard. There was a stick driven up through the middle of his back, and pieces of yellow grass were falling out of his arms and legs. I would go over to help him, but I wasn't sure if he wanted me to come, all he did was stand there and shake slightly when a cool breeze blew bye.

Many hours passed before anything new happened. There were two hours left of nighttime when a strange woman came swooping down out of the sky on a broomstick. I recognized her hat from what children had been wearing the previous night, but none of the children rode around on broomsticks. She landed softly next to me on the porch and sat down.

"I lost my beautiful black cat," she cried to me, "and now I am very lonely. But what is worse is I need a new cat before all the witches come to my cave tomorrow morning. If I don't have a black cat, I will be laughed out of the Witches Association. I know! Can I take you and turn you into a cat? Oh, silly me, you, can't talk, I'll have to put a talking spell on you, I hope you don't mind!"

A million questions flooded into my mind just as the woman put a spell on me. I wanted to know why I couldn't talk. How did she know that I couldn't? Suddenly, a bright flash of sparks shot around me and, POOF! I could talk! "I really want to come with you and turn into a cat, I am lonely too!" I said.

"Wonderful!!" she said.

After telling her my life story, she told me hers. She was something called a witch. A witch is someone that can put spells on things to make them do things, like talk. She immediately became my best friend ever, and I hers. She even turned me into a cat, right there on the porch. We vowed to each other that we would live happily ever after together (literally EVER after because she had already put a live forever spell on both of us).

"I'm glad you're my friend, and a cat." She concluded, "after all, cats are much more fun to be than a pumpkin, like you were before."

PUMPKIN???

The End


 


 

 

Karen--AGE 12

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