Friday, July 29, 2011

Friday Flashback: My 7th Grade Horror Fiction

(Today's Friday Flashback is highly influenced by the blog posts of both Kathy aka The Dreamy Giraffe, who shared one of her 7th grade stories today, and Tessa Gratton (author of Blood Magic) who blogged her new collection of 90's teen horror books today - Christopher Pike fans in da' house say "hey!")

Middle School Marisa gobbled up 90s teen horror faster than cones of Baskin Robbins Gold Medal Ribbon. That's saying a lot considering I eat ice cream when I angst and my 12-year-old self lived to angst. And, as I wanted to be a writer, my file cabinet of curiosities had it's own file labeled: HORROR STORIES.

This sample is pretty typical of a 7th grade Marisa story. It contains everything my 12-year-old self loved - an historical preface, a modern-day (circa 1993) tween girl who declares she hates her life in a super dramatic way, evil porcelain dolls, and death angels.

This is fiction that should never see the light of day, you guys. You have been warned. Yep. Here we go.

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Preface: 1898, Williamsburg, Virginia

"Oh! Momma!" I cried as I threw open my last birthday gift. It was a doll with pale blonde curls, a soft silk blue dress, cremed rose painted lips in a scary, mocking grin. The doll had clear blue eyes, so clear it almost showed the inside of this fragile doll. I glanced up at Momma. "Thank you, Momma, Poppa. It's a beautiful doll," I said, but I didn't mean it. Not all that much, anyway. Something about her features made me shiver. It was the way she seemed to watch me as I looked at her. "I'll call her Anna-Elise," I said blankly as I set the doll down to continue with the wonderful party given to me.
***
That night, when the party ended, I took Anna-Elise onto my lap and spun her crank to make her say, "Momma!" When she said "Momma!" I smiled. She had a voice sweet and innocent, not like the wicked doll of her appearance. "Momma!" Anna-Elise said again. "Momma!" Slowly I set her down in my doll chair and climbed into bed. A few minutes later, there was a knock at my door.

"Catherine? Are you still awake?" Momma asked me.

"Yes, Momma. You can come in," I said. Momma opened the door to kiss me goodnight.

(insert a page of blah, blah, blah, how did you like your party/doll, I loved it, you're the best Momma ever, shivering because the doll is creepy, goodnight, goodnight, ect... here)

***
The morning came quickly and I got dressed and walked over to pick up Anna-Elise who had fallen over from the night wind which seeped in from my open window.

"You are one gruesome doll," I said to Anna-Elise. I turned the crank in her back. All of a sudden, her clear blue eyes turned red and she smiled at me in a frightening way.

"Mommaaaa!" Anna-Elise laughed. "Mommmmmaaaa!" I dropped Anna-Elise and backed away, only to see her climb up onto her stubby legs. "Come here, Cemitrum!" she said. I backed away. "Come here, Cemitrum!" she said again. I didn't respond. "Raycastra, Floorum, Cristornien, Traichitum, Clagrium, and Opian!" the doll chanted.

From the window, six flying skeletons dressed in shabby robes with flying skeletal birds appeared. I tried to run out of the room but the door seemed stuck.

(insert a half-page of helpless screaming, here)

"Come to me, Cemitrum. Be one of my death angels. Come to me." Anne-Elise's voice was scaring me. I couldn't bear it. I took a step toward the doll. "Good girl," she said. I took another step then grabbed Anna-Elise and flung her out the window. "Aggghhh!" she screamed, then all was silent. As quickly as they came, the death angels disappeared.

From down below, Poppa yelled, "Catherine Alexandra Castrone! Why is your new doll laying on the ground in hundreds of pieces?"

CHAPTER ONE - New York, 1993

"I can't believe you want to move to Williamsburg! I bet they make butter and soap for fun! It's not fair!" I yelled at Momma and Poppa. I was so mad. I hardly even noticed the hurt look on Momma's face.

"Catherine Alexandra Castrone! If you are going to argue then go to your room!" Poppa told me. "Gramma Susan invited us to live in her old house since she is so old, and now we're going to live there! It wouldn't hurt you to learn a little about family history. Anyway, Auntie Maria and Uncle Johnny's kids are going to live there, too. You'll like having Angela to play with. She's twelve, too."

"But Poppa! It's 1993! No one lives in an old town! Believe me!" I whined helplessly.

(insert three pages of Go to your room! I hate you and I'm not moving! You have no choice, now stop whining! But all my friends are in New York and Angela is a spoiled, conceited brat and I hate her! plus helpless crying x10, here)

The End.
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That wasn't really the end. It went on for another several pages, including a scene in which Catherine moves to Williamsburg and makes fun of "the most ridiculous hat [she has] ever seen!"

Invigorating stuff, eh?

But that's not all, folks. My notes come with a family tree. Too bad I didn't think to include a death angels name pronunciation guide.

Sadly, I was more of an ideas + first-10-pages girl and lacked follow through to the finish, so I don't know how this story ends.

Though I'm sure the final fight between middle school drama queen and evil doll and death angels would have been epic, with lots of blood and plenty of helpless screaming, helpless crying, and helpless whining.

Have a fabulous weekend, folks!

xoxo,

5 comments:

AlyGatr said...

And you wonder why I never liked baby dolls or anything of the sort! OK, well maybe you never wondered, but it's true. I love that your possessed present has nearly the same name as your future daughter. Coincidence???? I've always been into horror...but never tried my hand at it :) Who knew you started the seeds of what would become a slew of Chucky movies!

Cathy said...

You were born to write...love how dramatic you were! You even planned it all. Wish I'd kept some of the fiction I wrote when younger.

Melissa said...

"Anna-Elise" - Hmm . . . that sounds vaguely familiar. ;-)

I love your early attempts at writing. They're almost (but not quite) as bad as mine. I believe there's hope for us yet. LOL!

Kathy said...

"I bet they make butter and soap for fun!"

Probably the best line from any fiction I've ever read.

And if I don't have nightmares about death angels tonight, it will be downright shocking.

(And call me crazy, but I think you actually had something that could turn into a really good plot there!)

Marisa Hopkins said...

:) thanks, you guys! And hahaha, yeah, evil doll with a name that closely resembles that of my ... most troublesome child. Not surprising, somehow.

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