1st Place: Megan Osgood: "Roses"
2nd Place: Anna Ceragioli: “The Mannequin”
3rd Place: Samuel Hokamp: “The Power of the Magician”
Roses by Megan Osgood
The first thought that flung itself across Blake’s still-foggy consciousness was how ordinary he felt.
Did she not look me straight in the eye, he thought to himself, filling me with that fire, that fire that burned me so completely…
He began to feel warmth and blushed. At seventeen, he was no stranger to lust, but lust for a…?
“Ghost.” He spoke it aloud, the word seeming to bounce off the walls of his now sunlit room, even though he had spoken barely above a whisper. It all started to rush back. The dark house, the fragmented laughter, the ever present smell of rotting flowers and the strange light that seemed to move—no, breathe.
He nearly gagged as he managed to stumble out of bed. The smell had been so strong that it had managed to entrench itself in the very pores of his nose, and he only now realized that the smell was specifically rotting roses.
Blake hoped a hot shower would leach the warped memories of the night before from his mind. It seemed to do just that, as he jauntily dressed for the day and hopped down the stairs to the kitchen. The room seemed so lifeless and empty for eight in the morning on a Saturday.
“Oh,” Blake spoke aloud. That’s right; Mom and Dad went to the cabin and Christy’s on her training trip in Florida. He began to make himself scrambled eggs, but before he could even pour the yolks onto the griddle more memories from the previous night came rushing back.
Brian and Rob had been so eager to see if the legend was true, and even when the three boys had been standing in front of the padlocked door the enthusiasm did not leave their faces.
“Dude, I cannot believe we are finally going to do this,” Brian said with sheer exuberance.
Ever willing to reveal a conspiracy theory, Rob couldn’t resist putting in his two cents. “I know man, I know, but I bet you it’s all a lie cooked up by the tourism committee so more people would come here instead of heading over to Salem every year for Halloween.”
“Rob, you would say that. Let’s just shut up and do this,” Blake barked, as he was in no mood to stall any longer. He had a bad feeling about the whole thing, but he couldn’t back out now, not with his best friends since kindergarten standing next to him with evident glee on their faces.
“Yea, let’s go. Remember, you have to knock on the door 3 times.” As soon as these words escaped Brian’s lips, Rob’s swift hand was upon the knocker, moving in rhythm with some unknown conductor. With the last knock, the door flung open, and the sweet smell of roses poured out to meet them.
The boys looked at each other in disbelief. Each of them had furtively hoped that the door wouldn’t actually give way, but there was no turning back now. With a nod from Brian, all three boys entered what appeared to be the parlor. The smell got stronger, seeming to come from upstairs. They traveled up the tall staircase they found to their right that led to a balcony, and then up to the master bedroom.
“Ok guys, let’s say what we gotta say and see what happens”, Rob said in a voice that attempted to sound nonchalant, but really harbored sheer terror. Once all three had entered the room, the smell quickly changed to an overpowering rotting smell. They looked at each other with pale faces as they said in unison, “Rose, red Rose, your suitor is here.”
Instantly, high pitched laughter filled the room as parts of the walls appeared to melt, revealing molten light bulging and moving out of the walls. Overpowered by the assault on his senses, Blake spun around. It was at that moment the most beautiful woman Blake had ever seen made her appearance, gazing at Blake with eyes of desire. Before he could even open his mouth to speak to her, Rob and Brian grabbed him by the shirt and they ran out of the house.
Blake snapped back to the present moment, trying to remain calm. After eating breakfast, he decided he needed to get some fresh air, and walked out into the bright October morning. He began walking, trying to get the beautiful ghost woman out of his mind. As if in a trance, Blake suddenly found himself in front of the house from the night before. How did I get here?, he thought in fear. He saw the door ajar, and at that moment his feet were no longer his own. Walking into the house and up the stairs, Blake couldn’t help but notice a piece of rope tied to the balcony. I know that wasn’t there the night before, Blake thought, attempting to rationalize what was happening.
Then he saw her, as the molten light began bulging once again out of the walls and the stench of rotting roses overpowered the room. Blake steadily stepped over to the rope, put the already made noose over his head, and began to position himself over the edge of the balcony.
“Say it”, the ghost hissed, and as soon as the last words “suitor is here” escaped his lips, the room went black.
The local police found Blake’s lifeless body hanging from a rope tied to the balcony of house that evening, after neighbors had called because they thought they had heard laughter and assumed kids were vandalizing the place. Kids always seem to do things like that on Halloween, the neighbors had said.
As the police strode down the cobblestone walk on their way out, one officer kicked aside some fallen leaves, accidentally revealing a worn stone that bore the inscription: “Rose Acker, May 3rd 1892-October 31st 1909: Even in Death, May You Never Be Alone.” The two unseen faces in the upstairs window couldn’t help but smile.
UNION SPORTS ANNEX
