As a fun halloween tradition, Mr. Wiseman, the Honors English II and AP Literature and Composition teacher, has both his sophomores and seniors submit scary stories under pseudonyms. Below is a snippet of this year’s scary story winners from each grade (voted on by their peers). 

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The Collection I should’ve never seen 

I was adopted two months ago, and ever since my new mom has expressed two main rules. Do not turn the lights on after 3am, and never touch her collections. Neither rules have ever been suspicious to me, I saw them as comfort and organization things. My adoptive mom is huge on collections, she sometimes lets me see some but never EVER touch. I got close before and that is the only time she had ever yelled at me, it was odd. She has collections from cards, to skinned animals, to pieces of marble. Truly anything you could imagine, she collects. She holds all the items in the same clear glass boxes, big and small. She would always joke about the collection she never wanted me to see, how it was scary. She would laugh after she said it, so would I. Jokes. Almost like an inside joke, because everytime she showed me her collections she would mention the one I never wanted to see. Her two main rules never bothered me, but after recent events, I’ve started to not trust them so much. Let me explain. I am not close with my mother, she does the basics and that’s about it. Picks me up, drops me off, feeds me, and gives me rules. Curfew at 8, no phone if grades slip, but most repeatedly, do not turn the lights on after 3am and never touch her collections. 

Last night looked like this: “Goodnight, and remember…” “ yeah yeah don’t turn the lights on after 3am”, I filled in my mothers words for her. “Yes honey, good night” she says, closing the door. I fall asleep almost immediately, exhausted after my long practice. Bzzzzzzzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzzz. The vibration of my phone on the nightstand startles me awake, I try to ignore it. Bzzzzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzzz. “Ughhhh,” I groan rolling over, grabbing my phone to see what could possibly be so important this late. My friend’s notifications are blowing up the screen. 

Brooke 

“Guys how do you do this” 

Anne 

“No clue I’m so lost” 

“What are you guys talking about?” 

Brooke 

“The algebra homework it’s impossible” 

You’ve got to be kidding, I forgot to do my homework. I manage to get out of my bed and start down the stairs to get my bag. I head over to the kitchen and stub my toe on the corner, “ouch”, I whisper,  “where’s the light switch”. As I begin to guide my hand across the wall and find the switch, a shooting pain races up my arm and a dark tall shadow fills the room. I fall and land right by my backpack, immediately getting up and sprinting up the stairs. “Elena. What is going on”, my mom appears behind me. Out of breath and in a daze, I reply, “I was just getting my bag I didn’t-” “Stop” my mother cuts me off. “Upstairs right now, I’m extremely disappointed in you.” Confused, I go up to my room and begin to take out my IPad, my phone is still buzzing. As I catch up from the texts my friends sent, I see the time. 3:05am. I almost broke the rule. A sensation rolled throughout my body that something is up and it hasn’t gone away since. 

So tonight, I’m figuring it out. Why does my mother come into my room at the same time each night and repeat her rules. What happens when I turn on the lights after 3am. My mother comes into my room a little earlier tonight, surely to reinforce the rule that I almost broke. I reassured her that I had no sense of time, and didn’t let her know that my suspicion has grown. After she leaves, I set an alarm on my phone. 3am. 3am and I’ll be up. By 4am, I’m sure I will have solved this mystery. 

One buzz from my alarm and I’m up, ready to figure this out. As I walk down the stairs, I’m sure to be extra careful as my mom must have heard me last night based on how quickly she got behind me downstairs. I pass some of the collections on the wall, all the glass boxes lined up varying in size. One of my collections is one you will never want to see my mothers words replay in my head. She must be hiding so much. As my barefoot travels from the carpeted stairs to the cold hardwood, the creaking of the floor gives me an eerie feeling. I pace over to the light. I’m standing right infront of it, the light I’ve been told for two months now never to touch at this very hour. 3…2…1. As my finger shifts the lift from off to on, no lights seem to illuminate. As I turned around in curiosity, a trail of yellow light shines down a hallway I have never seen before. One long hallway seems to lead to a double door at the end, very far away. As I carefully walk towards it, a dark shadow begins to eat up all the light in front of me. “ELENA”, a voice screeches from down the hall. I turn to face a demonic version of my so-called mother standing opposite me at where I once was. Her skin has dulled to a gray, her fingers extended almost to the floor, her teeth dirty and creepy, and her height spurted as she’s almost up to the ceiling now. Taking in this new appearance, my mind goes blank and I don’t know whether I should scream or run. What is going on? The familiar shooting pain returns to my arms, I almost feel numb. “I thought you were going to be different, it’s really too bad.” The demon-like figure starts towards me, I start backing up to the door, which seems to be getting even farther away. “Don’t fight it, you’ll make it worse”. I turn and sprint to the door, it’s fast but I think I can get to it. I think I can escape. As my hands finally hit the cold metal of the push door, a cackle radiates throughout the hall. “Should’ve followed the rules”, I hear her say. The door that I opened sucks me in and slams behind me. My face hits freezing concrete. I’m starved of light in a room where I cannot find any walls. Light slowly simmers into the room, lighting up faces around me. The room seems endless, with glass boxes as far down as I can see, each containing a human. “Let me guess, August 6th”, I turn and see the man who said this. “What?” I whimper, tears beginning to stream from my eyes. Terrified. August 6th is my adoption date, but how does this guy know? “Mines June 6th”, another girl in a box says. “April 6th here”, a boy my age adds. Pieces start to form into my head like the puzzle I never bothered to solve. So many people, each 2 months apart. Mother comes and slams me into my own glass box just like all the rest. We sit here like props. Like the collection I was never meant to see.