The Haunted Kettle

by Hillary-Chase

Chapter One

It was cold outside and the sun was setting. Time for a cup of tea thought Tarquin Shcmittendorf, resident of Mistyfront Manor and earl of Chinchester, England. Tarquin always had a cup of English earl grey tea in the evening, before settling down to watch the English football.

Tarquin made his way to the kitchen where the kettle was. He filled the kettle with water and switched it on. He took a mug from the mug tree and placed two crumpets in the toaster. The kettle had nearly finished boiling. Tarquin got the tea pot ready and placed a tea bag inside it. But the kettle didn’t switch itself off…it kept boiling. The boiling water splashed out of the kettle and onto Tarquin’s hand.

“Ahhhhhhh! That hurts!” said Tarquin in fear.

The kettle had just malfunctioned and shot boiling water out, burning Tarquin’s hand. He ran it under a cold tap.

“Bloody thing” said Tarquin. “I need to get a new one, that one’s old.”

Tarquin had finished watching the football and was readying himself for bed. He had just finished reading his book on horses and had switched out the light. He closed his eyes. Silence, save for a few nighttime noises. An owl. The sound of wind outside. Then an unexpected noise, the sound of…a kettle boiling. Could it be? Yes! It was that bloody kettle! Making his way downstairs Tarquin saw that the kettle was indeed boiling.

“I thought I’d turned it off” he said to himself inside his head.

Now Tarquin unplugged the kettle at the mains. He walked the long, winding stairs to his bedroom. He slipped back into his still warm bed and closed his eyes. Thoughts danced across his mind…the football – Beckham had scored!…his dead wife Elise…he still missed her. Tarquin opened his eyes suddenly, his train of though interrupted. He could hear a low gurgle, the sound of boiling water. It was the kettle! He had unplugged it, how was this possible? Once again he made his way downstairs to the kitchen and switched on the light. His heart skipped a beat, sure enough the kettle was boiling…and it was unplugged. This was too much for Tarquin, in a rage he threw a left hook at the kettle, knocking it to the lino floor. Boiling water spilled out, steam rose.

“Just stop boiling!” screamed Tarquin.

Tarquin had returned to bed and, after a restless night, awoken and made himself breakfast – crumpets with marmite. The kettle was now in the box it came in, in the garage. Tarquin had to open a supermarket today, such was the responsibility of an aristocrat. He was cleaning his teeth in the bathroom when he felt a cold chill, goosebumps appeared on his skin. There was a malevolent entity in the room, he could sense it. Spinning around Tarquin gazed with horror upon the kettle rocking it’s way towards him. His mouth dropped open spilling toothpaste and saliva down his shirt. He threw his toothbrush at the kettle, but this only enraged it and it rocked more vigorously. Slowly it came nearer, the water inside it starting to boil with an evil gurgle.

“Aaaaaahhhhhhhhh!” said Tarquin, leaping though the bathroom window onto the sloping roof outside. He scrambled down it’s tiles, a few came loose. Tarquin fell through the conservatory…then everything went black.

He woke with an intense pain in his head…was it all a dream? He had had and accident. He was confused. He slowly turned his head to the side…a vague shape came into focus. The kettle, it’s lid rising and falling on it’s hinge…it was laughing. The kettle was laughing. The kettle was evil. And now it had him just where it wanted, and it wanted him boiled alive.


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Loneliness and the Long Ago

Loneliness and the Long Ago- by Grace C

It was a rainy Friday night in the spring, the time of year when the trees are just faintly green, with the buds coming out. The spring rain was falling on the gray world, making it more gray and the roads were slick with rain. A man looked out into the falling rain from the front door of his new apartment.He had just moved here upon learning that his wife was leaving him. His name was Michael. He was very lonely tonight. So are many people on this rainy night, he thought, so are many people. It was the kind of night that leaves those with loneliness longing.

Friday nights are especially lonely for those with no one, and nothing. Friday nights are maybe even lonely for the dead, but of course the dead are always lonely, aren’t they?  It was a lonely May night at the cemetery. The rain fell on the gray tombstones , blurring the features of the dead in the photographs and falling in the letters and numbers on the stone that recorded the names and dates of so many past lives. A car came down the highway by the cemetery, falling headlights scanning the tombstones, before vanishing into the night on the rain slicked highway.

Michael tried not to think about the past. 18 years ago, he’d lost control of a car on that rain slicked highway, on that long ago Friday night.Angelica, his high school girlfriend, had died. He had lived, as had other friends with them. Only Angelica had died, only Angelica. He still blamed himself.

Michael turned away from his front door and thought he was in a dream. A photograph of Angelica had appeared on the wall, HIS wall.Of course, he didn’t have a picture of her on his wall, nor did he own a picture of her now. His reaction was shock and kind of horror. Revenge?  Solace? What did this mean?  Then he was further startled, for the picture vanished as if it had never been, and instead in the shadows of his curtains, he thought he saw an Angelica like shadow.” Angelica?” “Angelica? ” he said. The shadow moved..and instead of fear over the possibility she wanted revenge, comfort filled him, one emotion replacing the other in a flash. He wasn’t alone. He looked again. There was nothing.


BITF Chapter 2

Three Weeks Grace – BITF Chapter 2-  by AngelOfTheFallen

It’s been three weeks since my transformation and no one seems to be suspicious of me. The first night was the toughest though; I managed to drain 5 people and narrowly escaped detection! (That’ll teach them to defy logic and take a walk in the woods at that hour!) By the time I left the forest my friends had gone home. I’d assumed that they didn’t tell their parents as I didn’t see any police helicopters scanning my whereabouts. It took me until sunrise to get home and I had to quickly run inside before I was burnt; well, that’s what the movies say. My parents were, thankfully, still fast asleep, just as I had left them. It was hard to sleep once I returned, with the smell of their blood creeping out from their bedroom into the landing, making their way across the hallway and through the cracks in my wall, into my bedroom. I slept uneasy that first time, trying to get to the bottom of who bit me and why they didn’t just kill me outright.

The next day, at school, my friends questioned me for hours, demanding to know where I was, though I couldn’t make eye contact properly when I lied and I had to stare constantly at the lockers behind them before I began to get tempted by that one pulsing vein in each of their necks. School was a constant struggle but I made it through. As my dad had once told me, I was a survivor.

As I walked home today, however, the sun was particularly hot. Although I was wearing sun-cream, I could still feel the sun scorching my flesh, leaving tiny, inconspicuous marks on my skin. They were hardly noticeable, but I knew they were there and that was all the proof I needed to convince me that daylight wasn’t doing me much good. I considered being nocturnal but I had no ideas of how I would explain that to my parents. Sun-cream could only protect me for so long and it was impossible not to blow my cover if the only thing I knew about such creatures like me was what I had read in novels and movies. They weren’t reliable enough sources for me. The only solution was to track down who had changed me three weeks ago. Though that was easier said than done. Here I was, in my bedroom, with no means of finding my creator, I could go back to the forest but I couldn’t risk another night out. What if my parents woke up this time and found out I was missing? What if I lost control and they found the blood drained victims? I just got lucky last time. And what were the odds of the same one returning to the same forest? Hunting in the same forest would surely be a foolish move. But then again… I looked out of the window, hoping my plans would just appear to me from thin air. The night sky was beautiful, no clouds tonight, just a navy blue abyss with bright, twinkling diamonds shining down onto a not so dazzling Earth. It was settled. As soon as my parents went to sleep, I was going back to the forest.


Blood in the Forest

Blood in the Forest- by AngelOfTheFallen

I looked glumly at the forest ahead, it gave off a creepy vibe. I didn’t like it. Not one bit. Though it was after dark, the trees cast mean looking shadows on the ground in front of me. It looked like a swarm, creeping towards my feet, ready to drag me down and swallow my body whole. I didn’t have time to humour such thoughts. I knew my challenge. I knew what I had to do. My friends had been there, egging me on for the last 10 minutes, I couldn’t hold off any longer. I took one step in. And then another. So far, so good. I crept deeper and deeper into the forest, the twigs crunched beneath my feet, everytime I did, I could feel a shiver go up my spine. I hummed to myself quietly to keep the fears at bay. My mother used to do this to calm me after a nightmare, like many mothers, but that was in childhood; a time when you could be oblivious even at death’s door. (Not to mention, my music tastes had changed dramatically since then!) However once one reaches a teenager, you know no such innocence though you still do stupid and reckless things and not care until you end up near death; maybe this was one of them. All at once, I came out of my thoughts and scanned the area. Okay, that should be far enough. Or so I thought. I turned around and walked back the way I came, more like the way I THOUGHT that I came.


I had walked around for what felt like hours, pain seared through my feet and up through my leg, I could see no sign of my friends, nor a clearing or how far I’d come. Wandering around hopelessly, I just hoped that I’d stumble upon something or someone that could help me but no such luck. I had to rest, if I didn’t, I’d fear I’d pass out. I rested on a nearby log and looked forward at the shadows ahead of me, looking further into it, I could’ve sworn I saw a figure. No. I wiped my eyes. I must have been imagining things. I had a feeling of uncertainty so I stood up and began walking. The sound of footsteps followed me. I spun around, no one. I continued walking, I sped up my pace to a power walk. A twig snapped, stopping me dead in my tracks. Again, I saw nothing behind me. I began to run, I didn’t care how much pain my legs were in, something was chasing me, hunting me. I don’t know what it had planned for me and I didn’t want to find out. The footsteps got louder. And louder. And louder. After a while, the sounds got dimmer and dimmer and as they faded, I thought it safe to stop. I almost collapsed and every breath I took blazed down my throat and scorched my lungs. Suddenly, something grabbed my hands from behind and pulled me down! I was on my knees and I dare not look behind me. I didn’t know what was going on, all I knew was pain, as it felt as if two sharp needles were being pushed into my throat. After that, blackness.


I was expecting to face death, engulfed in darkness, being dragged down to the deepest pit of hell, but I woke up to a beautiful dark blue sky. I felt nothing anymore, no pain, no anger, no sadness, just a terrible hunger. A hunger for human blood and as I picked up a desirable scent and turned to face the village, I knew just where to get it…