Fright Night

my uni assigment - it has been checked over twice and edited after reading my tutors notes.

please enjoy :)





Breathing hard, my heart leapt into my mouth as my feet pounded the pavement. It was dark and even though it was cold – my body became flushed with heat as I ran faster and faster.

Danger was right behind me. I was never very good on my feet but this time I hoped I would not fall. “Feet don’t fail me now” I begged breathlessly.

My journey home has started like every day’s journey home – a walk through the park as it was my quickest route home. I’d walked it hundreds if not thousands of times, every child in the neighbourhood used it – every afternoon after school groups of kids from the local high school would descend on the small park to illegally smoke – tobacco and other things. Girls would sit and talk about a boy they liked and share a small pop bottle that clearly did not contain pop – contraband, stolen from their Fathers liquor cabinet. They made the park safe. Today though, they were not there. The park was empty, except for the lonely widow who lived on the corner. She had a glint in her dark eyes, something I’d always perceived to be sorrow and loneliness. As she got closer I could not have been more wrong.  She grasped my wrist with her cold claw like hand and began dragging me to her house. I fought back against her, for someone who seemed so weak, her grasp iron clad.





I’m sitting here brushing my long brunette hair, it feels silky under my rough fingers. Decades of labour have seen them turn callous and hard – very UN lady like. My soft brown eyes are framed by naturally long lashes and freshly tweezed brows. I study myself in the full length mirror. Not bad for sixty five. I’m tall, willowy and look ten years younger than I actually am. I smooth down the wrinkles in my dress, readjust my late Mother’s diamonds hanging heavily from my ears and reapply my lipstick before making my way into the dining room to set the table for dinner.  After setting the table I dress for the cold weather, ready to collect a few things for dinner, pork roast with all the trimmings – Only the best for my guests! I am sick of being lonely locked up in this old house by myself, so tonight I will find myself a guest no matter what it takes.

It is dark by the time I reach the park and there is only a short girl of about fifteen years old. Perfect. I approach her and she starts to run, her chubby frame struggling for air, her face red with perseverance. I grab her wrist and she struggles against me so pull out an old rag from my pocket, clamp it over her mouth as I help her to my car. No one see’s us.

At home, I seat her at my dining room table – she my guest, she must be treated as such. The roast is cooked and placed strategically along the 6ft table so everything is available for her. She struggles as I try to feed her the banquet I have cooked, gravy spills down her grey hooded school sweatshirt my hand supporting her chin as I make her chew. She spits it in my face.  HOW DARE SHE TREAT ME SO BADLY WHEN I HAVE PROVIDED FOR HER!! This makes me angry, I strike her again, with more force than I thought as her neck makes a sickening crack; her red face drains white. I look at her longingly like a Mother would look at her child. Minutes passed and the guilt of my actions subsides, sitting down at the head of the table I ate my dinner in silence never once looking away from my victims glazed eyes, I never even knew her name.

I hurry my dinner, it is imperative I clean up the mess I have made. Although there is no blood and just a body I am more concerned by the amount of washing up I will have to do after this abnormally sized meal and start to clear my plates in size order.  First the serving plate with the roast pork on, then the serving dish filled with vegetables, followed by mine and my guests’ plates, finishing off my cleaning load with the gravy boat. The beautiful porcelain gravy boat my Father had passed down to me just before he died. I loved him so and missed him terribly. He was a tall and beautiful with dark hair and eyes – just like me, watching what I’m doing, scolding my mistakes.

Running the hot water, I make a start on the washing up. I slowly scrape the leftover meat and vegetables into the bin; wasted. I enjoy bringing home people I do not know or even care about and that way they never leave.

I put the gravy boat back in its display case and leave the dishes to soak. The girl’s phone rings; I ignore it and carry on up the stairs. It rings a second time and it starts to agitate me. I take a deep breath and carry on up the stairs to change. It rings a third time and this time I fly into a rage, searching I find and grab it with the aim to smash it. It stops ringing and I start laughing – not bad for an old bag that isn’t technology literate – just because I know what a mobile phone is doesn’t mean I know how to use it! Silence at last I make my way back upstairs when the doorbell rings. Before I know what is going on the Police swarm my house, finding the dead girl in my dining room.

“Fredrick Gates you’re under arrest for murder” The Police man screamed “You have the right to remain silent!”  In the struggle of my arrest, my beautiful long hair falls away revealing my bald head and my make up smudged. I hadn’t realised I had picked up the phone call instead of cancelling.

I don’t know who Fredrick Gates is, but it seems he is in a lot of trouble – and I Alana Jones, am nothing to do with it.