*So in English the other day we were given the first few paragraphs of a story called "The Thing in the Cellar" we were then told to finish the story in Gothic style. So I have the paragraphs for you here, as well as the story I wrote. I hope you enjoy. PS its creepier when read out loud, especially by me ; P. *
It was a large cellar, entirely out of proportion to the house above it. The owner admitted that it was probably built for a distinctly different kind of structure from the one which rose above it. Probably the first house had been burned, and poverty had caused a diminution of the dwelling erected to take its place.
A winding stone stairway connected the cellar with the kitchen. Around the base of this series of steps successive owners of the house had placed their firewood, winter vegetables and junk. The junk had gradually been pushed back till it rose, head high, in a barricade of uselessness. What was back of that barricade no one knew and no one cared. For some hundreds of years no one had crossed it to penetrate to the black reaches of the cellar behind it.
At the top of the steps, separating the kitchen from the cellar, was a stout oaken door. This door was, in a way, as peculiar and out of relation to the rest of the house as the cellar. It was a strange kind of door to find in a modern house, and certainly a most unusual door to find in the inside of the house—thick, stoutly built, dexterously rabbeted together with huge wrought-iron hinges, and a lock that looked as though it came from Castle Despair. Separating a house from the outside world, such a door would be excusable; swinging between kitchen and cellar it seemed peculiarly inappropriate.
From the earliest months of his life Tommy Tucker seemed unhappy in the kitchen.
A winding stone stairway connected the cellar with the kitchen. Around the base of this series of steps successive owners of the house had placed their firewood, winter vegetables and junk. The junk had gradually been pushed back till it rose, head high, in a barricade of uselessness. What was back of that barricade no one knew and no one cared. For some hundreds of years no one had crossed it to penetrate to the black reaches of the cellar behind it.
At the top of the steps, separating the kitchen from the cellar, was a stout oaken door. This door was, in a way, as peculiar and out of relation to the rest of the house as the cellar. It was a strange kind of door to find in a modern house, and certainly a most unusual door to find in the inside of the house—thick, stoutly built, dexterously rabbeted together with huge wrought-iron hinges, and a lock that looked as though it came from Castle Despair. Separating a house from the outside world, such a door would be excusable; swinging between kitchen and cellar it seemed peculiarly inappropriate.
From the earliest months of his life Tommy Tucker seemed unhappy in the kitchen.
*****FROM HERE ON IN IS ALL MY WRITING*****
Tommy did not like the door or what lay beyond it. When he was small his mother had asked him to fetch something from the cellar. Tommy had been down there not even two minutes when he launched himself back up the steps and into the kitchen. Shouting that there was something alive down there. When his mother questioned him, Tommy said that he had heard moaning, groaning, and an odd whistling. Tommy's mother gave him a typical grown up answer. That it was nothing, the house was old, of course it groaned. There were cracks, the whistling was just the wind. She tried to sooth Tommy, she told him that there was nothing to fear. But Tommy was afraid, for down in the dark he had seen a pair of eyes, and they had seen him.
As Tommy grew older his mother learned not to ask him to enter the cellar, for every time Tommy would refuse. Tommy also grew to avoid the kitchen if no one else was around. He hated being in the kitchen alone, for sometimes he swore he could hear whispers coming through the door. "Tommy," the whispers sang, " come to us Tommy." But Tommy would not go. He tried blocking the voices, and forgetting the eyes. He was actually quite successful at is, except the human mind never truly forgets. Even Alzheimer patients have moments of clarity. And so, Tommy would still dream about these things.Bodiless voices whispered in his nightmares, while staring eyes watched him from the dark recesses of his mind.
After every dream he would awake in a cold sweat, yet unable to remember what had scared him. He would shiver and shake, then finally drift back to sleep. When Tommy went to boarding school the dreams stopped, well until the fire.
When Tommy was 17 his parents died in a mysterious fire. The police were baffled. The could not find the cause of the fire, and the blaze had been contained to the parents bedroom. There was no structural damage to the house, and even the bedroom was relatively unscathed. The only thing completely destroyed was the bed, and well Tommy's parents.
When Tommy was told the details of the fire, a half-formed idea clawed at his brain, but he just couldn't work it out, and frankly he didn't really want to.
Tommy returned to his hometown one final time for his parent's funeral. He was offered many places to stay, but he decided to spend one last night in his old room before it was put on the market. Just one more sleep for old times sake.
But of course nothing is ever that simple. As Tommy lay down to sleep he heard the whispers. " Tommy. Come to us Tommy." Tommy ignored them. But the whispers were relentless. " Come play with us Tommy. Please." Tommy again ignored them, but they continued. " We can bring them back," the whispers sang to him. And this time he followed, for every orphan yearns for a way to save them. When Tommy reached the cellar door he did not pause. He walked down the ancient staircase and climbed the barricade of junk. Tommy eventually found an empty space near the back wall. Here three girls sat in a close circle. They wore flowing white and sad, lonely expressions.
Tommy walked through them to the center, the girls stood and paced around him. Tommy was unafraid. "Who are you?" he asked. "Why are you here?"
"We're trapped," the first girl told him.
"How?" Tommy asked, bewildered.
"Fire." The second girl answered.
"Fire destroyed our home, destroyed us," the third girl finished. " We've been alone for so long."
Tommy was shocked, but he needed to know. He gathered his resolve and asked the question which was burning on the tip of his tongue, " And my parents? Was that you?"
"They were going to leave us Tommy," the girls answered together. "Going to move away. We'd be alone again."
"You won't leave us, will you Tommy?" The 1st girl, the oldest, asked. Tommy looked her in the eyes and fell head first into them.
"No..." He whispered, "never...."
The girl smiled. Slowly, as if in a trance, Tommy leaned forward, as their lips met Tommy's eyes closed for just a moment. When he opened his eyes and they broke apart, the girl's eyes were glowing like embers and her skin smoked. She smiled and Tommy's world went black,
That night the house burned down, all but the cellar. No one has built on it since. They say the land is cursed, that one can hear the giggle of girls and the harsh tones of a boy not yet a man. All that stands on the land now is stairs leading down to nowhere, and a stout oaken door that sometimes sways on the wind.
As Tommy grew older his mother learned not to ask him to enter the cellar, for every time Tommy would refuse. Tommy also grew to avoid the kitchen if no one else was around. He hated being in the kitchen alone, for sometimes he swore he could hear whispers coming through the door. "Tommy," the whispers sang, " come to us Tommy." But Tommy would not go. He tried blocking the voices, and forgetting the eyes. He was actually quite successful at is, except the human mind never truly forgets. Even Alzheimer patients have moments of clarity. And so, Tommy would still dream about these things.Bodiless voices whispered in his nightmares, while staring eyes watched him from the dark recesses of his mind.
After every dream he would awake in a cold sweat, yet unable to remember what had scared him. He would shiver and shake, then finally drift back to sleep. When Tommy went to boarding school the dreams stopped, well until the fire.
When Tommy was 17 his parents died in a mysterious fire. The police were baffled. The could not find the cause of the fire, and the blaze had been contained to the parents bedroom. There was no structural damage to the house, and even the bedroom was relatively unscathed. The only thing completely destroyed was the bed, and well Tommy's parents.
When Tommy was told the details of the fire, a half-formed idea clawed at his brain, but he just couldn't work it out, and frankly he didn't really want to.
Tommy returned to his hometown one final time for his parent's funeral. He was offered many places to stay, but he decided to spend one last night in his old room before it was put on the market. Just one more sleep for old times sake.
But of course nothing is ever that simple. As Tommy lay down to sleep he heard the whispers. " Tommy. Come to us Tommy." Tommy ignored them. But the whispers were relentless. " Come play with us Tommy. Please." Tommy again ignored them, but they continued. " We can bring them back," the whispers sang to him. And this time he followed, for every orphan yearns for a way to save them. When Tommy reached the cellar door he did not pause. He walked down the ancient staircase and climbed the barricade of junk. Tommy eventually found an empty space near the back wall. Here three girls sat in a close circle. They wore flowing white and sad, lonely expressions.
Tommy walked through them to the center, the girls stood and paced around him. Tommy was unafraid. "Who are you?" he asked. "Why are you here?"
"We're trapped," the first girl told him.
"How?" Tommy asked, bewildered.
"Fire." The second girl answered.
"Fire destroyed our home, destroyed us," the third girl finished. " We've been alone for so long."
Tommy was shocked, but he needed to know. He gathered his resolve and asked the question which was burning on the tip of his tongue, " And my parents? Was that you?"
"They were going to leave us Tommy," the girls answered together. "Going to move away. We'd be alone again."
"You won't leave us, will you Tommy?" The 1st girl, the oldest, asked. Tommy looked her in the eyes and fell head first into them.
"No..." He whispered, "never...."
The girl smiled. Slowly, as if in a trance, Tommy leaned forward, as their lips met Tommy's eyes closed for just a moment. When he opened his eyes and they broke apart, the girl's eyes were glowing like embers and her skin smoked. She smiled and Tommy's world went black,
That night the house burned down, all but the cellar. No one has built on it since. They say the land is cursed, that one can hear the giggle of girls and the harsh tones of a boy not yet a man. All that stands on the land now is stairs leading down to nowhere, and a stout oaken door that sometimes sways on the wind.
