For our Spooky Scribbler Write-Off, participants were given the first two lines and ten minutes to write. Winners were determined by creative interpretation and the ability to tell a complete tale.

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We had no idea where the bodies in the attic came from. The only thing we knew is that they looked just like us. My brother and I looked at them in horror. “Are we dead?” my brother asked.

 

I just shook my head. “No, impossible. We are here, aren’t we?” I frowned in concentration, trying to figure out what was going on. I thought it was a prank at first, but then I saw the blood and ushered my brother and I back down the rickety old stairs. We rushed as fast as we could, but with every turn, we just got even more lost.

 

The library closed in a few minutes, and I swore I heard footsteps coming from behind me and the laughter of children. As we rounded another corner, we heard someone from behind quietly say, “Boo.” Chills ran down our spines.

 

I saw the exit but before I could reach it; something grabbed my brother’s leg and pulled him back. He screamed loudly as tears rolled down my face. “No!” I yelled, as I suddenly fell into a dark hole.

 

When I opened my eyes, I was in a white room. A hospital room. Mom looked at me and whispered “I’m sorry but…” and then I knew it wasn’t a dream.

 

The people like us in the library attic killed my brother, and they’re after me, too.