Spoiler! :
Nothing is cooler than finding a tombstone in your backyard. My dad found it when he was pulling up some brush in our yard. It was broken in half, and a piece on the side was chipped off.
The front of the tombstone read, Deborah Davis, Age 73, Died November 13, 18-
Yeah, the last part of the year is missing. That was really annoying, because I’m sure we would’ve been able to find out who Deborah Davis was if we knew the year.
My parents wanted to use the tombstone for the walkway we were making in the front yard. I warned them not to, because it might disturb Deborah’s spirit, whether she was buried here or not.
I’m not sure I completely believed in disturbing dead spirits, or, was I sure, the Deborah was even buried here, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
My parents agreed to leave the tombstone alone; so they left it in the backyard.
At least, I thought they left it in the backyard.
They really wanted to use that tombstone because it fit perfectly, so they switched the tombstone out with another flat rock they had found when I was inside watching TV. The other flat rock was too long for the walkway, so they couldn’t use it.
Then weird stuff started happening.
Probably the first thing that happened was the lightning.
It was a stormy night, but it was mainly wind, rain, and sleet. No thunder or lightning at all. That is, until we heard a deafening CRACK in our backyard. I ran to look out the window. I could hear my family waking up, wondering what the noise was.
Our backyard was on fire. But what was really weird was that only one spot was on fire, and it didn’t seem to be spreading. It just stayed in one spot; the spot I’m pretty sure my dad found the tombstone.
The rain eventually put the fire out. My mom said the fire only stayed in that spot because the lightning struck there first, and the fire didn’t have enough time to spread because of the rain.
We went back to bed; all satisfied that that was just the first lightning bolt to strike that night and that it was just a coincidence that it struck in that spot. I wasn’t so sure.
Nevertheless, I went back to bed. I wondered if this had anything to do with the tombstone.
Before I fell asleep that night, I remembered thinking that Deborah Davis might be awake.
When I woke up, my closet door was open, which was weird, because I never opened it because my closet terrified me.
I went to close it, when I noticed something moving inside. I figured it was my cat, Boo, so I went in to grab him.
When I approached the creature, I noticed it was definitely not a cat.
This thing was the size of a human being. It was lying down, and it’s arms and legs were twitching. It was breathing heavily, so I figured it must have been having a nightmare or something.
It took all my willpower not to scream. I blinked, and when I opened my eyes, it was gone.
I shook my head. It must have been an illusion.
I closed my closet door; trying to remember what movie I might’ve seen with a figure like that in it before. I was on my way back to bed to pick up my bathrobe when I heard a shriek from downstairs.
I nearly jumped out of my skin. When my heart started pumping normally again, I ran downstairs to find a huge spider in the middle of the table. This thing was like ten times the size of a regular arachnid. I pushed the thought of having a giant spider on the dining room table out of my mind and tried to think of what kind of spider it might be. I looked at its back and noticed it had writing on it. It was not English, but I tried to sound it out anyway.
“Miruši astoņi teen četrdesmit septiņas,” I said.
The spider turned to me, and made a weird kind of hissing noise. It sounded kind of like “Yes”.
I pushed everything out of my mind until all that was left was ‘Big spider= bad’.
I saw my mom in the kitchen, staring wide-eyed at the spider. Her mouth was hanging open in a silent scream.
I heard the downstairs bathroom door open. My dad had finished his shower and had come to see what all the noise was about. When he saw the spider, I could tell he was holding back a scream.
He told me to get my Junior Bow and Arrows. I nodded my head and then ran into the mudroom. My Junior Bow and Arrow kit was on the washing machine. I grabbed them, ran back into the kitchen, and gave them to my dad.
He took them out of my hand and readied the bow. He took aim at the giant spider, and then shot. It was a good hit. The arrow slammed into the middle of the spider’s body and stuck in it. The spider made a weird screeching sound, and stopped moving.
My mom seemed even more terrified at the sight of the dead spider than the live on.
My mom screeched, and then started fanning herself, trying hard not to faint.
After my dad had gotten rid of the animal carcass, he told my mom that the spider might’ve been a weird crossbreed between a Black Widow and an oversized Daddy Long Legs.
My mom seemed to calm down, but now we all knew something weird was going on.
I ran to my room and opened my laptop. I looked up ‘miruši astoņi teen četrdesmit septiņas’ on Google.
The first thing I clicked brought me to a translator.
I typed in ‘miruši astoņi teen četrdesmit septiņas’ and clicked Translate.
This is what came up: Died eighteen forty-seven.
This was interesting, it was kind of like what happens in Scooby-Doo, but I still wondered why the words would be in Latin. If it had anything to do with Deborah, wouldn’t it be in English? I mean, she lived in America, at least I think.
Then I looked up ‘Deborah Davis, Died 1847’.
The first link I clicked brought me to someone’s blog.
The latest entry said:
‘October 14, 2009: Today I wanted to find out about my family members that lived way before me. I found my family tree and went back all the way to the 1800’s. I noticed that in 1847, my great-great-Aunt, Deborah Davis, had died a death not of old age. In 1847, a wealthy family by the name of Kingsley moved onto a hill above the now popular ice scream shop David’s Dairy Treat. The Kingsley’s hired a crew of men to build a huge and elegant house. The Kingsley’s, at the time, had an elderly maid named Deborah Davis. Deborah was born in America, but grew up learning Latin. When Deborah went to school, she was taught English, but still preferred speaking Latin. The Kingsley’s detested people from foreign countries, so naturally they scolded Deborah whenever she spoke in Latin. Deborah took care of the workers by bringing them water and food. Climbing up ladders and trudging far in the heat of summer was not good for Deborah, but still she cared for the workers. One day, the workers were putting up the West wall of the house. They ordered all workers to stay clear, but poor Deborah did not hear because of her poor hearing. One of the ropes snapped when the wall was being raised, and fell on Deborah, who was walking innocently by. Deborah was buried on the Kingsley’s property because she did not have a family of here own nearby. My grandfather told the tragic story of Deborah to me. My grandfather’s father was Deborah’s brother, and was heartbroken when he received the bad news in the mail sent by the Kingsley’s’.
I closed my laptop and stared straight ahead.
This had happened on our property.
The only way I was able to tell this had happened on our property was because we lived above David’s Dairy Treat.
I told my parent’s what I had found out at dinner.
They told me it was a coincidence that this happened after we found the gravestone.
I wondered how parents could be so unaware, or, at least not acknowledge that they were concerned.
I had a feeling they weren’t telling me everything.
“Mom, did you use the gravestone on the walkway?” I asked.
My mom looked at me with a weak smile, and then said, “It was the perfect size, honey!” she explained.
I nodded, and finished eating dinner.
“Just a coincidence,” I told myself.
Now, it probably didn’t help that I watched Poltergeist before I went to bed that night.
At the foot of my bed, I keep my stuffed animals.
They’re my cartoon collection of stuffed animals, not bunnies and doggies.
I kept staring at them. I was afraid if I moved, one of them would drag me under my bed.
As I stared at my collection of stuffed animals, I wondered why in the world I would watch Poltergeist after all that had happened.
Nevertheless, I couldn’t do anything about it now.
My head was now filled with thoughts of being dragged under my bed and trees grabbing me and trying to eat me.
I just kept staring at my stuffed animals, wishing I could fall asleep.
I wish I had been keeping an eye on my closet instead.
I never heard it creak open, and I never heard the creepy moan of Deborah.
I never noticed someone else, or, something else was in the room until it was standing right next to me.
I thought I heard breathing, so I turned my head to the right.
Big mistake.
I swallowed a scream.
The ghostly thing wrapped a bony hand around my throat and lifted me out of my bed.
I squirmed and squirmed, trying to break free.
I knew this was Deborah, one way or another. “Why me?” I choked out.
“Because,” a feminine voice hissed, “You believe I’m here more than the others.”
The last thing I remember before passing out is hearing the laughter of an old woman.
When I woke up, I was in my front yard. My family was around me, and paramedics were standing close by also.
I heard my mom talk to a paramedic, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying. I looked up at the house. I swore I could see a white shadow in my window.
“Mom,” I choked out.
My mom turned, and said, “Oh honey! You’re all right! You had a seizure, which is odd because you’ve never had a seizure before. The paramedics said it wasn’t so serious, so we stayed here and-“
“Mom,” I interrupted her, “We have to leav-“
But I never finished.
The next thing I saw was really weird and extremely creepy.
A giant white skull, about the size of our house, appeared in the front yard.
I wondered if I was hallucinating, but it was clear everyone else saw it to.
The skull opened its jaws, and I heard an evil, old voice scream, “How dare you disturb me! All of you filthy living creatures!”
At the word ‘creatures’ our house exploded in a white light.
I expected to be hit with burning debris, but nothing happened.
The house had simply disappeared, leaving a grassy foundation in its place.
Everyone just kept staring at the skull. No one could even scream.
“And now, you will pay with your lives!” the skull screamed at us.
Without another word, our property burst into flames, slowly surrounding us.
I could here Deborah cackling in the distance.
I could do nothing as I watched my family slowly being engulfed in flames.
Just innocent people, as innocent as Deborah when she died.
“This can’t be happening,” I thought to myself as the flames crept closer.
“This is a nightmare,” I thought to myself as the flames reached the stretcher I was on.
“This is real,” I realized darkly when the flames finally went over my head.
Everything went dark.
The front of the tombstone read, Deborah Davis, Age 73, Died November 13, 18-
Yeah, the last part of the year is missing. That was really annoying, because I’m sure we would’ve been able to find out who Deborah Davis was if we knew the year.
My parents wanted to use the tombstone for the walkway we were making in the front yard. I warned them not to, because it might disturb Deborah’s spirit, whether she was buried here or not.
I’m not sure I completely believed in disturbing dead spirits, or, was I sure, the Deborah was even buried here, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
My parents agreed to leave the tombstone alone; so they left it in the backyard.
At least, I thought they left it in the backyard.
They really wanted to use that tombstone because it fit perfectly, so they switched the tombstone out with another flat rock they had found when I was inside watching TV. The other flat rock was too long for the walkway, so they couldn’t use it.
Then weird stuff started happening.
Probably the first thing that happened was the lightning.
It was a stormy night, but it was mainly wind, rain, and sleet. No thunder or lightning at all. That is, until we heard a deafening CRACK in our backyard. I ran to look out the window. I could hear my family waking up, wondering what the noise was.
Our backyard was on fire. But what was really weird was that only one spot was on fire, and it didn’t seem to be spreading. It just stayed in one spot; the spot I’m pretty sure my dad found the tombstone.
The rain eventually put the fire out. My mom said the fire only stayed in that spot because the lightning struck there first, and the fire didn’t have enough time to spread because of the rain.
We went back to bed; all satisfied that that was just the first lightning bolt to strike that night and that it was just a coincidence that it struck in that spot. I wasn’t so sure.
Nevertheless, I went back to bed. I wondered if this had anything to do with the tombstone.
Before I fell asleep that night, I remembered thinking that Deborah Davis might be awake.
When I woke up, my closet door was open, which was weird, because I never opened it because my closet terrified me.
I went to close it, when I noticed something moving inside. I figured it was my cat, Boo, so I went in to grab him.
When I approached the creature, I noticed it was definitely not a cat.
This thing was the size of a human being. It was lying down, and it’s arms and legs were twitching. It was breathing heavily, so I figured it must have been having a nightmare or something.
It took all my willpower not to scream. I blinked, and when I opened my eyes, it was gone.
I shook my head. It must have been an illusion.
I closed my closet door; trying to remember what movie I might’ve seen with a figure like that in it before. I was on my way back to bed to pick up my bathrobe when I heard a shriek from downstairs.
I nearly jumped out of my skin. When my heart started pumping normally again, I ran downstairs to find a huge spider in the middle of the table. This thing was like ten times the size of a regular arachnid. I pushed the thought of having a giant spider on the dining room table out of my mind and tried to think of what kind of spider it might be. I looked at its back and noticed it had writing on it. It was not English, but I tried to sound it out anyway.
“Miruši astoņi teen četrdesmit septiņas,” I said.
The spider turned to me, and made a weird kind of hissing noise. It sounded kind of like “Yes”.
I pushed everything out of my mind until all that was left was ‘Big spider= bad’.
I saw my mom in the kitchen, staring wide-eyed at the spider. Her mouth was hanging open in a silent scream.
I heard the downstairs bathroom door open. My dad had finished his shower and had come to see what all the noise was about. When he saw the spider, I could tell he was holding back a scream.
He told me to get my Junior Bow and Arrows. I nodded my head and then ran into the mudroom. My Junior Bow and Arrow kit was on the washing machine. I grabbed them, ran back into the kitchen, and gave them to my dad.
He took them out of my hand and readied the bow. He took aim at the giant spider, and then shot. It was a good hit. The arrow slammed into the middle of the spider’s body and stuck in it. The spider made a weird screeching sound, and stopped moving.
My mom seemed even more terrified at the sight of the dead spider than the live on.
My mom screeched, and then started fanning herself, trying hard not to faint.
After my dad had gotten rid of the animal carcass, he told my mom that the spider might’ve been a weird crossbreed between a Black Widow and an oversized Daddy Long Legs.
My mom seemed to calm down, but now we all knew something weird was going on.
I ran to my room and opened my laptop. I looked up ‘miruši astoņi teen četrdesmit septiņas’ on Google.
The first thing I clicked brought me to a translator.
I typed in ‘miruši astoņi teen četrdesmit septiņas’ and clicked Translate.
This is what came up: Died eighteen forty-seven.
This was interesting, it was kind of like what happens in Scooby-Doo, but I still wondered why the words would be in Latin. If it had anything to do with Deborah, wouldn’t it be in English? I mean, she lived in America, at least I think.
Then I looked up ‘Deborah Davis, Died 1847’.
The first link I clicked brought me to someone’s blog.
The latest entry said:
‘October 14, 2009: Today I wanted to find out about my family members that lived way before me. I found my family tree and went back all the way to the 1800’s. I noticed that in 1847, my great-great-Aunt, Deborah Davis, had died a death not of old age. In 1847, a wealthy family by the name of Kingsley moved onto a hill above the now popular ice scream shop David’s Dairy Treat. The Kingsley’s hired a crew of men to build a huge and elegant house. The Kingsley’s, at the time, had an elderly maid named Deborah Davis. Deborah was born in America, but grew up learning Latin. When Deborah went to school, she was taught English, but still preferred speaking Latin. The Kingsley’s detested people from foreign countries, so naturally they scolded Deborah whenever she spoke in Latin. Deborah took care of the workers by bringing them water and food. Climbing up ladders and trudging far in the heat of summer was not good for Deborah, but still she cared for the workers. One day, the workers were putting up the West wall of the house. They ordered all workers to stay clear, but poor Deborah did not hear because of her poor hearing. One of the ropes snapped when the wall was being raised, and fell on Deborah, who was walking innocently by. Deborah was buried on the Kingsley’s property because she did not have a family of here own nearby. My grandfather told the tragic story of Deborah to me. My grandfather’s father was Deborah’s brother, and was heartbroken when he received the bad news in the mail sent by the Kingsley’s’.
I closed my laptop and stared straight ahead.
This had happened on our property.
The only way I was able to tell this had happened on our property was because we lived above David’s Dairy Treat.
I told my parent’s what I had found out at dinner.
They told me it was a coincidence that this happened after we found the gravestone.
I wondered how parents could be so unaware, or, at least not acknowledge that they were concerned.
I had a feeling they weren’t telling me everything.
“Mom, did you use the gravestone on the walkway?” I asked.
My mom looked at me with a weak smile, and then said, “It was the perfect size, honey!” she explained.
I nodded, and finished eating dinner.
“Just a coincidence,” I told myself.
Now, it probably didn’t help that I watched Poltergeist before I went to bed that night.
At the foot of my bed, I keep my stuffed animals.
They’re my cartoon collection of stuffed animals, not bunnies and doggies.
I kept staring at them. I was afraid if I moved, one of them would drag me under my bed.
As I stared at my collection of stuffed animals, I wondered why in the world I would watch Poltergeist after all that had happened.
Nevertheless, I couldn’t do anything about it now.
My head was now filled with thoughts of being dragged under my bed and trees grabbing me and trying to eat me.
I just kept staring at my stuffed animals, wishing I could fall asleep.
I wish I had been keeping an eye on my closet instead.
I never heard it creak open, and I never heard the creepy moan of Deborah.
I never noticed someone else, or, something else was in the room until it was standing right next to me.
I thought I heard breathing, so I turned my head to the right.
Big mistake.
I swallowed a scream.
The ghostly thing wrapped a bony hand around my throat and lifted me out of my bed.
I squirmed and squirmed, trying to break free.
I knew this was Deborah, one way or another. “Why me?” I choked out.
“Because,” a feminine voice hissed, “You believe I’m here more than the others.”
The last thing I remember before passing out is hearing the laughter of an old woman.
When I woke up, I was in my front yard. My family was around me, and paramedics were standing close by also.
I heard my mom talk to a paramedic, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying. I looked up at the house. I swore I could see a white shadow in my window.
“Mom,” I choked out.
My mom turned, and said, “Oh honey! You’re all right! You had a seizure, which is odd because you’ve never had a seizure before. The paramedics said it wasn’t so serious, so we stayed here and-“
“Mom,” I interrupted her, “We have to leav-“
But I never finished.
The next thing I saw was really weird and extremely creepy.
A giant white skull, about the size of our house, appeared in the front yard.
I wondered if I was hallucinating, but it was clear everyone else saw it to.
The skull opened its jaws, and I heard an evil, old voice scream, “How dare you disturb me! All of you filthy living creatures!”
At the word ‘creatures’ our house exploded in a white light.
I expected to be hit with burning debris, but nothing happened.
The house had simply disappeared, leaving a grassy foundation in its place.
Everyone just kept staring at the skull. No one could even scream.
“And now, you will pay with your lives!” the skull screamed at us.
Without another word, our property burst into flames, slowly surrounding us.
I could here Deborah cackling in the distance.
I could do nothing as I watched my family slowly being engulfed in flames.
Just innocent people, as innocent as Deborah when she died.
“This can’t be happening,” I thought to myself as the flames crept closer.
“This is a nightmare,” I thought to myself as the flames reached the stretcher I was on.
“This is real,” I realized darkly when the flames finally went over my head.
Everything went dark.
I thank anyone who reviews this,
-Brushfire
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