Mead Public Library and the Sheboygan Press teamed up on a scary story contest for students in grades 3-12. Seven winners were selected. Each winner will receive prizes from the library and have their entries published here. Here is the fourth of seven winners.
Mead Public Library’s Scary Story Writing Contest logo.
Hide and Seek
By Daisy Barron, Christ Child Academy, Grade 8
I walked up to the house like I had many times before and rang the doorbell. Mrs. Richmond smiled at me as she opened the door.
“It’s good to see you, Kate. The kids are playing hide and seek. They said that you have to find them. I’ll be back in the morning around 9. Have fun,” she said, and walked to her car.
I shut the door behind her and started to look around for them. I knew they would hide upstairs, because they always do when we play hide and seek, so I went up there to check.
All the doors were shut, except for one at the end of the hall, which was wide open. I walked to the door and turned on the light. What I saw made me freeze.
There was a doll. She was about 4 feet tall, pale skin, jet-black hair that was in tight curls, but the thing that made me shutter was her eyes, because there were none. It was like someone had scraped them out of her face but tried to hide it by coloring over it with black marker.
Just then, I heard a creek in the hall. I turned around and saw Molly and Peter standing in the doorway.
“What are you doing in mommy’s bedroom?” Molly asked.
“We were waiting for you to come find us,” Peter said.
“Sorry, the door to this room was opened. I thought you were hiding in there,” I told them.
“What’s that?” Molly asked, walking over to the doll and touching her hair.
“It must be your mom’s,” I said.
“Must be,” Peter said.
We all went downstairs to the kitchen.
“What do you guys want for dinner?” I asked.
“I’m not hungry,” Molly said.
I looked at her and choked down a gasp. It looked like all the color had drained from her body and her skin was almost translucent.
“What’s wrong with Molly?” Peter’s voice shook as he got up from the counter to stand by me.
“I don’t know,” I responded.
I’ve been babysitting these kids since they were little. Something was very wrong. I walked over to her and felt her forehead to see if she had a fever. Her skin felt impossibly cold, almost like porcelain.
“Molly, go sit on the couch. Peter, get her a hot washcloth and a blanket. I’m calling the doctor.”
I picked up my phone, but it wouldn’t turn on. I tried the house’s old landline that was used only for emergencies, but it wasn’t working, either.
“Peter, can you watch Molly for a few minutes? Make sure she’s OK. The phones aren’t working. I’m going to your neighbor’s to see if they have one that works. Stay in the living room!” I called and heard him respond with an “OK.”
They have one neighbor named Mrs. Walters who lives next door. The second closest neighbor is more than 5 miles away. I walked to Mrs. Walters’ front door and knocked. No response. I looked in the windows and all the lights were off. She must not be home.
Molly and Peter have been alone for more than 15 minutes. I sprinted back to their house, but the front door was locked. I swear I left it unlocked. There was an open window that led to the kitchen from their porch — I could get in through there.
I climbed through the window and took a tumble onto the kitchen floor.
“Molly! Peter!” I started yelling and ran into the living room. They weren’t there.
I ran up the stairs, and there was a single light on in their mom’s room. I walked slowly toward the door. Something didn’t feel right. I stepped into the bedroom and started to search the room to see if they were in there.
“She’s coming. Come hide with us. She’ll never find us here,” said a hissing voice from under the bed.
Cautiously, I looked under the bed, and there were Molly and Peter. Their skin was as white as snow, and their eyes were black pits. I screamed and ran down the stairs. I had to get out of here. Now.
I was almost down the stairs when I saw the doll again. She was standing in front of the door with her back to me, mumbling. Then, I realized she was counting.
“58 … 59 … 60.”
She slowly turned around. Her head was turned slightly down so her black curls fell in her face.
“Hello, Kate. Would you like to play with us? There’s still time to hide,” she hissed as she lifted her head so I had to stare into the black, glassy mess she had for eyes.
“Better hide, Kate, because I’m all done counting.”
THE END
This article originally appeared on Sheboygan Press: Sheboygan Scary Story contest winner — Read ‘Hide and Seek’
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