HERE IS ANOTHER CLASSMATE WHO NEEDS TO CUT THIS STORY...BY ABOUT 250 WORDS! HELP!!
My father, whom I call by his first name Jared, and I spent that summer in the mansion we kept in the vague English countryside.Jared has always been quite the eccentric man with a taste for anything unusual.I detested his eccentricity and rebelled against it with everything I had. I couldn’t help hating the vacation before it even began, because I knew that every day would be spent indulging one of my father’s bizarre interests, and I did not have the necessary tolerance of his oddity to endure that.As we pulled up to the shadowy, mysterious mansion, I glared at it with disdain, channeling at the house all my feelings of hatred for the way abnormality had ruled my life and stolen my father, which had been building up inside me for 17 years.
We were making ourselves comfortable in our new home, which for Jared meant fixing himself a Bloody Mary and for me meant isolating myself in my room as quickly as possible, when a single knock resonated through the cavernous front hallway.I paused in my ascent into solitude, leaning over the staircase railing to see who our visitor was.
Jared and a tall, handsome stranger clad in head-to-toe black attire were engaged in hushed conversation.I caught a few phrases from my position on the stairs, and from them ascertained that the stranger was Mr. Jared Mitchell and was here to help Jared with ‘a favor’.I didn’t’ want to think about what kind of ‘favor’ that might be…no doubt something involving magic or some other absurd oddity.I escaped to my room before I could be apprehended for formal introductions.
I kept to myself all the next day, unwilling to face Jared or the mysterious Mr. Mitchell.When basic needs such as food finally forced me out of my room, I tried to sneak into the kitchen undetected, but as my luck would have it, Jared and Mr. Mitchell were seated at the elaborate mahogany table positioned inconveniently in front of the kitchen door.Both men looked up as I approached.“Oh, honey,” Jared said excitedly, characteristically using some anonymous term of endearment in favor of my real name, “I was hoping to get your help…we need a woman’s hair for this spell…”I cast off my search for food and whirled to face him, appalled.“What?” I cried indignantly, “You want my hair for a spell?There’s no way you’re getting my hair for your stupid magic tricks!Magic isn’t real!Is that all I am to you, Jared?A convenient ingredient for your BS hobbies?”I abandoned my tirade when my voice broke.Jared’s expression was only mildly surprised, and this muted reaction, so far from what any normal father would have exhibited after such a confrontation from his daughter, caused me to burst into tears.Horrified at myself, I fled the room, but as I mounted the stairs I faintly heard Mr. Mitchell say “This seems like as good an occasion as any.I’ll do it tonight.” *** “Laura, I wish to speak with you”.I guessed that the velvety voice issuing from behind my door belonged to Mr. Mitchell.I was surprised that he knew my name, but I stayed silent.I was in no mood to be comforted by my dad’s weird cohort.“Laura, your father is greatly troubled by the vehemence with which you slandered his opinion of you”.Again, I didn’t speak.“Laura, I would like very much to perform for you a bit of magic”.I was disgusted at his statement, but I said quite coolly, “Mr. Mitchell, please leave me alone.I am in no mood to entertain grown men’s fantasies of magic”.Completely disregarding my request, Mr. Mitchell replied “Then I shall go prepare my trick,” and went audibly down the hallway to the guest bedroom, leaving me alone to wait in exasperation for a performance of something I knew didn’t exist.
Suddenly, the lights went out and the air became chilled.Alarmed, I reached for my lamp but froze.The doorknob on my bedroom door was turning of its own accord.I grimaced and called out “Mr. Mitchell, please, I am in no mood--”, but broke off.The door was swinging creakily inwards, spilling a pool of strange orange light into the room, but strangely I couldn’t see the person who opened it.All of a sudden, a small, devil-like figure rounded the doorframe, silhouetted by the light emitting from the hallway.
This creature could not reasonably exist, for it was like nothing I had ever seen.It was animalistic yet very human, extremely disturbing with blood-red skin, sharp tiny horns, and wicked yellow eyes.I could barely breathe from terror.To my horror the figure advanced slowly into the room, creeping jauntily from side to side.When it reached the edge of the light, it crouched down, looking at me for what seemed like an eternity, then turned abruptly with a cackle and darted out of the room, swinging the door shut behind it.
I collapsed on to my bed, almost hyperventilating, casting about for an explanation for that unexplainable occurrence. Relief flooded through me as I suddenly seized on the idea that it was only Mr. Mitchell’s magic trick.I comforted myself with my solution to the mystery.Magic still didn’t exist.There wasn’t really a devil-like figure in my room just then; it was only a well performed trick.
All of a sudden there was a knock on the door.Still marveling over Mr. Mitchell’s performance, I waited readily for my visitor to speak.What I heard shattered my carefully constructed world where magic didn’t exist and my father was just a deluded man who invested more time in foolish hobbies than he did in his only daughter.What I heard forced my mind open to novelty, and chilled me to the bone.
“Laura, it’s Mr. Mitchell.I am ready to perform my magic trick now”.
My father, whom I call by his first name Jared, and I spent that summer in the mansion we kept in the vague English countryside. Jared has always been quite the eccentric man with a taste for anything unusual. I detested his eccentricity and rebelled against it with everything I had. I couldn’t help hating the vacation before it even began, because I knew that every day would be spent indulging one of my father’s bizarre interests, and I did not have the necessary tolerance of his oddity to endure that. As we pulled up to the shadowy, mysterious mansion, I glared at it with disdain, channeling at the house all my feelings of hatred for the way abnormality had ruled my life and stolen my father, which had been building up inside me for 17 years.
We were making ourselves comfortable in our new home, which for Jared meant fixing himself a Bloody Mary and for me meant isolating myself in my room as quickly as possible, when a single knock resonated through the cavernous front hallway. I paused in my ascent into solitude, leaning over the staircase railing to see who our visitor was.
Jared and a tall, handsome stranger clad in head-to-toe black attire were engaged in hushed conversation. I caught a few phrases from my position on the stairs, and from them ascertained that the stranger was Mr. Jared Mitchell and was here to help Jared with ‘a favor’. I didn’t’ want to think about what kind of ‘favor’ that might be…no doubt something involving magic or some other absurd oddity. I escaped to my room before I could be apprehended for formal introductions.
I kept to myself all the next day, unwilling to face Jared or the mysterious Mr. Mitchell. When basic needs such as food finally forced me out of my room, I tried to sneak into the kitchen undetected, but as my luck would have it, Jared and Mr. Mitchell were seated at the elaborate mahogany table positioned inconveniently in front of the kitchen door. Both men looked up as I approached. “Oh, honey,” Jared said excitedly, characteristically using some anonymous term of endearment in favor of my real name, “I was hoping to get your help…we need a woman’s hair for this spell…” I cast off my search for food and whirled to face him, appalled. “What?” I cried indignantly, “You want my hair for a spell? There’s no way you’re getting my hair for your stupid magic tricks! Magic isn’t real! Is that all I am to you, Jared? A convenient ingredient for your BS hobbies?” I abandoned my tirade when my voice broke. Jared’s expression was only mildly surprised, and this muted reaction, so far from what any normal father would have exhibited after such a confrontation from his daughter, caused me to burst into tears. Horrified at myself, I fled the room, but as I mounted the stairs I faintly heard Mr. Mitchell say “This seems like as good an occasion as any. I’ll do it tonight.”
***
“Laura, I wish to speak with you”. I guessed that the velvety voice issuing from behind my door belonged to Mr. Mitchell. I was surprised that he knew my name, but I stayed silent. I was in no mood to be comforted by my dad’s weird cohort. “Laura, your father is greatly troubled by the vehemence with which you slandered his opinion of you”. Again, I didn’t speak. “Laura, I would like very much to perform for you a bit of magic”. I was disgusted at his statement, but I said quite coolly, “Mr. Mitchell, please leave me alone. I am in no mood to entertain grown men’s fantasies of magic”. Completely disregarding my request, Mr. Mitchell replied “Then I shall go prepare my trick,” and went audibly down the hallway to the guest bedroom, leaving me alone to wait in exasperation for a performance of something I knew didn’t exist.
Suddenly, the lights went out and the air became chilled. Alarmed, I reached for my lamp but froze. The doorknob on my bedroom door was turning of its own accord. I grimaced and called out “Mr. Mitchell, please, I am in no mood--”, but broke off. The door was swinging creakily inwards, spilling a pool of strange orange light into the room, but strangely I couldn’t see the person who opened it. All of a sudden, a small, devil-like figure rounded the doorframe, silhouetted by the light emitting from the hallway.
This creature could not reasonably exist, for it was like nothing I had ever seen. It was animalistic yet very human, extremely disturbing with blood-red skin, sharp tiny horns, and wicked yellow eyes. I could barely breathe from terror. To my horror the figure advanced slowly into the room, creeping jauntily from side to side. When it reached the edge of the light, it crouched down, looking at me for what seemed like an eternity, then turned abruptly with a cackle and darted out of the room, swinging the door shut behind it.
I collapsed on to my bed, almost hyperventilating, casting about for an explanation for that unexplainable occurrence. Relief flooded through me as I suddenly seized on the idea that it was only Mr. Mitchell’s magic trick. I comforted myself with my solution to the mystery. Magic still didn’t exist. There wasn’t really a devil-like figure in my room just then; it was only a well performed trick.
All of a sudden there was a knock on the door. Still marveling over Mr. Mitchell’s performance, I waited readily for my visitor to speak. What I heard shattered my carefully constructed world where magic didn’t exist and my father was just a deluded man who invested more time in foolish hobbies than he did in his only daughter. What I heard forced my mind open to novelty, and chilled me to the bone.
“Laura, it’s Mr. Mitchell. I am ready to perform my magic trick now”.