For three consecutive Wednesdays in the beginning of August I conducted a workshop at 826 Valencia in San Francisco for a dozen or so kids, ages 11-14. The workshop was focused on creative writing and by the conclusion of the workshop the students were required to submit a story about a character who had died and was buried (possibly in the God’s Acre cemetery).

Here are the pieces they submitted, as they were submitted, in no particular order. Enjoy!

Monkey Vision

By Vanessa Cabrera

I woke up wanting nothing more but to slump back into sleep. I roll over, close my eyes, no I have to wake up, the antique shop won’t open by itself. I hear a tap on the window and there standing on the ledge is a monkey with white wispy whiskers like a little old man. He was small maybe just the right size to sit on your palm. That’s impossible! Did I have too many shots last night? I walk towards the window. It disappears. Someone across the street is watching me, creepy. I definitely need to stop drinking or maybe what I need is to go to a psych ward. I got dressed and went down stairs. I turned over the sign from closed to open. The display window seemed a bit messy. “Ughh kids”, I said. So I walked toward the display fixed it a little noticed the bulb wasn’t lighting right, so I twisted it tighter. Then I noticed on the sidewalk the monkey staring not moving. Those shot did go to my head. Here I was seeing a monkey again! What the hell was I thinking that a monkey would be walking the streets of Chicago? I was nuts so I closed my eyes for a few seconds knowing that when I opened them there would be no monkey. My eyelids flew open - instead of a monkey there was the man that had been watching me earlier. He looked remotely like the monkey a little old man with a white wispy mustache giving him a look of being old but his face wasn’t the slightest bit wrinkled. His hair was silver he had that same black state as the monkey, the one that gives you the impression of being studied.

He stood there looking, I didn’t make one attempt to move from my place it felt like I was frozen by his stare unable to move. Then he blinked releasing me from his gaze, walked away from the window trying not to look back. Stood behind the glass cases filled with antique silver lockets, pendants, and earrings trying to arrange the shelves of vases that lay behind the shadow of the more valuable objects. Bells jingled announcing someone was inside, I hoped that whoever entered was someone other than the old man. I turned around to my horror it was indeed the old man, my throat closed I was scared something about him was eerie. In something just above a whisper I managed to give the man a hello, he just nodded and looked around the shop.

Out of nowhere back directed toward me he said “I’m Ethan Brooks.” His voice gave me a chill it was tough, cold like in a way. Reminding me of the time I was seventeen and my stepfather told me my mother was a whack head that her paranoia problems caused her to kill her self, the way he had said it was if he didn’t care, like it was insignificant.

“Leetha Norwelly,” I replied, “nice to meet you, see anything you like?” I could hear the tremble in my voice, the fakeness in my question. He turned around and stared at me curiously. What did this man want? I could tell my confusion was readable on my face by the way he smirked.

“I know who you are Lee, also about your mother and her problems the way she died,” I was scared stiff how did he know all this? How? Before I could ask he was already out the door.

He had left a stuffed monkey along with a note behind. The monkey looked oddly familiar like the one I had seen on the street, no that wasn’t it somewhere else I just couldn’t put my finger on it. I ripped the note from around the monkeys neck written in slated letters was the message “Monkey see, Monkey does - Leeby”. Leeby? Then I remembered it was the name of the stuffed monkey I once had when I was five, glancing down at the monkey in my hand it was Leeby! But she was long lost how did this man I barely know have it? What could he possibly have meant by “Monkey see, Monkey does”? It wasn’t even the right phrase.

That’s when I heard it. “Death awaits…be careful.” It came from the monkey. How could that be? She was only made of cotton.

“Leeby?” I cried in disbelief, tears rolling down my cheeks. I was crazy first monkeys on the streets and now this? Stuffed animals whispering to beware of my death. Insanity was taking over but then again the idea of me going whack wasn’t exactly out of the question. Especially with a creepy old man knowing my history. I needed to go somewhere, leave Chicago. Leaving the store closed I went upstairs and got some things packed, its not like we got a lot of customers anyway. Frida would be happy. Picking up my copy of The Chicago Sun Times and got in my old gray beetle with its worn out seats. Took Leeby with me only because she brought me comfort and made me think of my mother. She studied monkeys after all.

I started the old buggy, got on the road, and suddenly I noticed it - a navy van it seemed to be tailing me. No, I thought, I’m just getting spooked for no reason. I went into the other lane. It followed. I switched back and it followed again. Brooks! The old man was tailing me. I stopped my car in the middle of the road, knowing what would come next just like the monkey said. He got out too with a smile on his face we were near a cliff I didn’t want him to be the one that killed me so I jumped. Death was painless it was better than the feeling of going insane. The moment I jumped I saw his face he was about to shoot but I beat him to the punch. His reasons to kill I did now know, bu the knew everything about me. Obsession? Or just the desire to kill. Whatever the reason, the monkey knew it all along.

Here lies Leetha Norwelly (1970-1992). May she lie in peace. Underneath someone had written “What monkey saw, monkey told”.

~~~~~~~~

Chrostia of Alfensile

By Marie Wererka

There once said to be, that deep into the miles and miles of rotting gravestones, there was a Fairy Fold city. Except, rumor had it, instead of fairies, there were tricky little nymphs. Deep into the city, there was a little nymph girl. Her mother had been killed by the last nome attack, and her father was the gate keeper of the city, Alfensile. With her sleek silver hair, flashing blue eyes, this girl, Chrostia was in a mist.

She had been in “trouble” by the guards of Alfensile, for she was plainly wandering around the outskirts of the city.

“Come ‘ere you!” one guard said gruffly, grabbing Chrostia by the arm. “What?” Chrostia answered, bewildered. “King wants to see you!” he said. Chrostia was dragged into the inner walls of the palace, dragged up the spiral staircase, surrounded by grapevines. The guard pushed her against theicy marble floor. Looking up, he faced the king.

“Chrostia of Alfensile” he announced, looking at the guards. “I am sorry to inform you that exactly two hours ago, your father, Solstus of Alfensile, had been kidnapped by underground nomes,” the king looked down at her. Chrostia gaped. Her father? Kidnapped? She chewed on a red necklace her mother had given her. “So,” the King continued, “I give you my blessing to leave the city, and search your father,” he said.

“What? You’re not going to search?” Chrostia asked.

“Silly child, your dragonfly, water, and food supply,” the King said, a bit hurt. Chrostia quickly thanked him and mounted her dragonfly.

For two years she searched the nome capital, with no such luck. Her dragonfly had been stolen, food and water supply gone. At last she flew with her own wings, and rested by a creek. Needing a place for shelter, she hid in a cave. Walking further back, wondering when the passage should end.

Suddenly, she bumped into something brown and muddy. It was a nome guard. Within a second they slammed her in a cage.

Someone grunted behind her. She turned, and saw a nymph in gatekeeper’s clothes.

“Solstus of Alfensile” Chrostia asked. The old nymph nodded. “Dad!” Chrostia flung her arms around her father. He smiled weakly. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “I got a blessing from the King!” Chrostia grumbled. “We’ve got to get out!” Solstus hissed. “Do you still have that amulet?” he asked. “You mean my necklace?” Solstus grabbed the necklace and stuck it in some hole in the wall. Red light flowed through the room, a loud voice sung out.

Amulet of the heir
will die of despair
one will die,
the others will cry,
as one will fall in the portkey

There were voices above and Chrostia immediately understood. She had inherited the amulet from her mother and her father must go through the port key.

“Well,” Solstus said, “What are you waiting for? Go!” Chrostia shook her head. She quickly hugged her father, and pushed him through the portkey. Nome guards burst in the cell, but it was too late. She was dead. The enchantment had broken with a burst, sucking every energy from the closest living being.

Rumors said, if you walk through the cemetery, look at every gravestone carefully, the smallest one, three inches tall should say:

Chrostia of Alfensile
Killed by magical
enchantment while
saving her father.
Sweet girl.

~~~~~~~~

The Poison Plum

By Tommy Nguyen

Once there was an eleven year old named Reddy. He got his name from his red hair. Reddy is fat just like his parents. One day, he was running an errand for his father until a drunk person bumped up to him with a big bat. The person was drunk because he was walking sloppily and just came from a baseball game. He was so drunk he hit Reddy extremely hard on the head. The police came to arrest the person, and Reddy was taken to the hospital.

An hour later, his parents heard the horrible news of Reddy. Reddy was brain damaged by the hit, and received two bruised eyes. The bruised eyes made him blind because Reddy couldn’t see when he left the hospital.

Two years later, Reddy learned to smell, hear, and touch the Braille letters.

One day, his parents drove Reddy to the farm. They wanted him to smell out the vegetables to bring and eat. The parents walked to the car for water when a stranger offered Reddy a plum. Reddy took the plum and ate it.

A few seconds later, the parents came back and saw Reddy dead lying on the vegetables. They took Reddy and the plum in his hand to the hospital. Scientists came to examine the plum. They said the plum was poisonous but smelled like an ordinary plum. Reddy was buried in a reserved place at a graveyard.

The end.

~~~~~~~~

The Bet

By Daniel Chou

At the age of 22, Brandon La was a professional golfer. He saved all of his money to help his mother pay for her surgery. Even as a professional he was not payed as much for a reason that no one knew.

On his 8th tournament he was called on his cell phone from the emergency room. The doctor had told him that his mother was going to have to have surgery before the next week. When he came home with his winnings to check his money, he realized that he had been robbed. He only had $5000 and he needed $250,000 for his mother’s surgery. Without the money his mother would die.

When he got to the course the next day, he decided to make a bet with this other pro golfer, Mike. They both decided on $245,000 for the golfer with the least amount of strokes for the next tournament.

On the day of the tournament Brandon felt that something was very wrong. He met Mike with a smug face and said “Bring it on!” They both succeeded in the beginning. On the last hole, Mike was two inches away from the hold since he had used a 9-iron instead of a larger one. Brandon took in a deep breath, prayed, and then smacked the ball. With a bit of luck it dropped five inches away from the hold and rolled in. Everyone was in shock with amazement.

After the tournament Brandon caught up with Mike, collected his money and walked away. Little did he know, that Mike was following Brandon with his 9 iron.

Before he opened the door to his Benz, Mike delivered a serious blow to Brandon’s head. Brandon then felt limp and looked at the world around him for the very last time.

~~~~~~~~

Permanently Outcast

By Paolo Yumal

Michael Woods. Age 25. Abandoned by his rich parents at the age of nine. He learned to fend for himself on the streets of London, and even made some friends to boot. These friends of his helped ’ im break into this factory…reason? He claimed they were abusing animals, testing their products on ‘em. Turns out they were right…but we still had to arrest the whole bunch of ‘em. Him and his little friends too. But on the way ‘ere, they hijacked out car and disappeared. Who knows where those weirdos are now…but what’s it matter to you, anyway, Mr…Mr what? Woods?

“Leader…leader…hey! Get up! It’s time to move - gotta escape ‘the heat’ and all that….c’mon!”

“Urgh…” I got up with a groan. My left hand hurt as usual, the deformity on its middle finger like a scare to remember why I was rejected by my parents - because I wasn’t normal.

“Hey” #2 snapped. “Stop yer daydreaming and let’s go! The whole groups waiting on ya!” I got up with a small grunt and surveyed my group, four members, each helping me in my quest against rich, greedy monsters…like my parents…

I had seen each of my members waiting eagerly and attentively for my next order, except…

“Where’s #3?” I barked. #3 soon came in, a suspiciously guilty expression upon his face. He avoided eye contact with me, but opened his mouth as if to say something…and was quickly interrupted by the sounds of sirens - and all the police bursting into our makeshift hideout, guns raised.

“What?!?!” I exclaimed. “Who told you - ?”

“Thanks mate,” an officer said to #3, giving him a friendly pat on the back. A sudden feeling of shock ran throughout the rest of the group.

“So it was you” I muttered angrily, “you filthy traitor!”

“Silence!” another officer demanded. “Its safe, Mr and Mrs Woods” Then the two people I had hoped to never see again entered the room! My parents. I stood staring blankly.

“Son!” my mother said, “We’ve come back.”

“We’ve forgiven you” my father said.

“You’ve forgiven me?” I spat. “You left me, accusing me of being an abomination, all because of this” - I thrust my left hand in front of their faces - “a minor deformity! You turned me into the person I am now, trying to stop people like you, people who are actually willing to hurt others, just to get what they want! I HATE YOU!”

A police officer reached for his gun.

“Enough” I said. “Why silence me temporarily - when I can be silenced permanently!” I revealed my switchblade and thrust it into my heart. “You think I’m an outcast, huh? Well…now it’s permanent.”

~~~~~~~~

Crushed

By Tommy Curran-Levett

I first met Joe Levender, the ballpark hot dog vendor, when I was six years old. My father loved baseball so much that he took me to almost every game. My father even had two tickets to every World Series game that year. In fact it was game one of the World Series when I bought a hot dog from Joe. He told me that he had a little boy my age, when I told him I was six. I thought it was cool that Joe could go to all the home games and get paid for it.

Two days later, I found myself at the second game of the World Series. Halfway through the second inning, I saw Joe again and ran up to him. He recognized me and said hi. I asked him if I could follow him because I wasn’t that interested in the game, even though my favorite team, the Giants, were playing. He said I could if it was OK with my father. When I asked my dad he said no, but when I begged and begged, he reluctantly agreed.

I was so excited that I kept running up in front of Joe. I thought that he had the coolest job in the world. Joe even let me run hot dogs to his customers. When the game ended I was convinced that when I grew up, I would be a hot dog vendor.

I went to the next game feeling energetic and excited. I quickly found Joe and followed him again. I was so busy running hot dogs to customers that I didn’t even see Barry Sosa, the giants star batter, toe the home run record with a ninth inning blast.

I didn’t go to the next three games because they were in Chicago, but I did watch them on TV with my dad, who had given the tickets to the Chicago games to a friend when he couldn’t get plane tickets for us. My dad wanted the Giants to win the World Series before game seven because he had to go to Miami for work.

The Giants lost game six. Game seven would be here in San Francisco, and I couldn’t go. I was upset because that meant I wouldn’t see Joe for a year.

Barry Sosa hit a grand slam in the ninth inning to break the home run record, win the game and the World Series.

Every day I would count down the days until the Giants first home game. Finally, it came. When I got to the stadium, I immediately started looking for Joe.

After six innings of looking, I asked another hot dog vendor where to find Joe. It was then that I found out Joe was dead. He was walking up the stairs on the top deck when Barry Sosa hit the home run, which landed in front of him. All of the fans dove for the ball which had rolled onto the step that Joe was on. Thirty fans had landed on top of Joe who hit his head on the cement stairs.

~~~~~~~~

The Letter is…M

By Taylor Leong

Everyone had heard of the “monster” of the Ambariye sea. It had first been spotted by some passengers in a rowboat, before it had capsized their vessel. Since then, sequoia-tall tales had sprouted like polar trees in very good soil.

But the real reason why the sea creature had capsized the boat was because the people aboard had failed to answer a single riddle. It was an easy riddle, the kind you learn in second grade, but since the people did not answer in time, he sunk the boat. This happened to quite a few of the boats. Whenever a boat sank, the aquatic dragon laughed and roared “No one can defeat me!!”

One day, as the great Spinx of Ambariye was counting and sorting his sunken ships as a child sorts marbles or Lego’s - big ones here, small ones here, valuable ones here, common ones here - he heard the sound of a great big vessel that would make a fine addition to his collection. Rising dramatically out of the water, with large splashes and spouting flame, the Ambariye monster hissed out his riddle:

“Answer this correctly or lose your ship. I appear once in every minute, twice in every moment, but not in a hundred years. What am I?” I give you one minute to answer. For the rest of those seconds the sailors tried to remember the answers, but failed.

Just as it seemed that they would all sink and drown under the murky waters of the Ambariye sea, the young princess on board pushed her way through the crowd of sailors and blurted out “The letter ‘M’?”

The Ambariye monster was astonished. Nobody had ever solved it but then again, he only gave them a minute to answer. He gasped, but as he was still spouting flame as he gasped, he choked on his own flame and died.

When the people of the town nearby learned it was dead they were thrilled, so joyful there was a big celebration where the princess was awarded for answering the riddle and saving them all. In memory of the monster they had a plaque put on a tree that said:

“Was once home of the treacherous monster of Ambariye who was slain finally by Princess Monique. M”

~~~~~~~~

The Book of Death

By Michael Kendrick

This is Joe. He is sixteen. He loves boxing. People like him. He gets good grades in school. The teachers say good things about him and someday he was going to be a good boxer. So he did die. He just didn’t drop dead. His friends his family never knew. In this case he had everything he needed. So I am going to tell you how he died.

One day he was in school doing some homework in homeroom. It’s in the library. He was reading about the old boxer that don’t fight no more for his report. In class and his friend Lee showed him this book called the Book of Death. It showed how people get kill by something that you can’t see. So Joe felt the Lee reading this book is a waste of time. So Lee just asked him to look at it when he felt this bad thing on him.

Some days went by. He win his fight and got an A+ on his paper. Later that day he was back in homeroom. He was doing his work when something called his name. He looked. There was no one he saw. So he kept doing his work. When lot of books feel on him so he got up and that day one bad thing happened to him. Like someone was trying to kill him.

So later that night they were in running back to school to see that book and get some information to stop that that was that was trying to kill him. They found the library. They went to Section D as fast as they can. They opened it. They found it. It was some type of phantom.

Next it pushed Lee out of the way. He was neck out. The it went to kill Joe. He was running then after it killed him by this stone. He never had a chance. Then Lee used the book on it. He felt the wand and a blow. It was over. Lee had to get a move on. The cops were coming. He felt bad about Joe’s death and after that they never knew how he had died.

~~~~~~~~

Treadmill Accident

By Dylan Tang

Goblin died in a treadmill accident part of his head. His friend and his neighbor were suspects because they knew him. He has known his friend and neighbor for about 25 years. There was no sound because he fell and the treadmill pulled him back and he broke his head. He fell and the treadmill was spinning so fast that the treadmill pulled him back and broke his head. His friend and neighbor are suspects for the police.

The police are thinking that his friend pushed goblin down the treadmill. His friend was his enemy because they had a fight, but they needed proof first. The neighbor told the police that he saw Goblin’s friend kill Goblin.

The next day they let Goblin’s neighbor go and put Goblin’s friend into jail.

They put him in jail for thirty centuries. The jail cell was very dirty. It was an uncomfortable bed and was noisy. It even has a dirty toilet. The police gave them stuff to do when they are in the jail cell. Everyday they had to do the same things over and over and over again. Every day they are so tired that they can’t do anything at all and if they can’t do it the police will give them even harder things to do.

After thirty centuries in the jail cell he didn’t have anymore money so he wanted to stay there EVEN MORE!

~~~~~~~~

A Tragic Comedy

By Julius Lee

“Global warming isn’t important, but I swear it’s getting hot!” I said those words and the whole room filled with the usual laughter. The mismatched voices would overpower everything I said, even over the microphone. The room seemed to shake with the audience’s twitching bodies. I went on to my next joke.

“I’m the president of the USA. I know everything about our country from what the vice president tells me.” The laughter came again. The sweet sound of what kept me alive. It fed, and will fee, my wife and I as long as the president stays in office. Only a year ago I started my comedy act. I tried to watch every C-span and read every article I could on the president. He seemed pretty good, at first until someone got the dirt on him. I thank god that my wife found the eerie similarities between me and the president because it really got the cash rolling in. Who cares if I was three inches taller? I just had to hold on till the president goes out of office, but what then? My old job? I shivered and came back to my act. I had daydreamed my way through the performance.

“You’re a great audience! Make oil, not war!” And I left the laughter behind me.

-

I departed from seat 192 totally busting a gut. I walked out of the theater with the rest of the audience, and turned down 86th street for my walk home. That Daniel Barker was a political comical genius! Then, someone caught my sight…it was the very man I was thinking about. I ran up to him calling “Daniel, wait!”

He turned tiredly and replied, “Who the hell are you, miss?”

“I’m Elisa Monoham,” I said excitedly. “I’m a big fan. Is it really true that you worked at the MacDonald’s on 26th?” His face darkened and turned away. “I’m sorry, Mister Barker!” I said, “I never meant to offend you.”

“Write this in your fan book!” he screamed back, still turned, “I never want to go back to my old job. Run on home , I need to catch a bus home.”

He ran off to the bus stop. I stood, awestruck. The first time meeting my hero, and I was on his “avoid” list.

-

It was a busy morning at the office. My boss had pushed me papers when I got to work and said “Ryan! March your @$$ on to the Donne French Theatre.” I hadn’t had my coffee so I stood still before my boss pushed me out the door.

I stumbled into one of the most expensive cabs I’ve ever traveled in and was still running fifteen minutes late. My bluetooth earpiece sang in my ear, but I ignored it. I glanced around without a though, seeing nothing too important. The people in the plaza all looked the same. What a boring day this will be. I bumped into a man. He pushed me and bumped into the man next to me. He stared at the man and pulled out a gun. I stared, too stunned to move as the man pointed his gun, not at me, but the guy next to me, and said “Go to hell Mister President!”

He shot his gun, and several people screamed. The man fell to the ground. I looked. Was he the president? No, this man was taller. He was swearing as he looked at his bloody chest. I ran up to him. He looked up at me and sobbed out “My god, I’m going to die. What’s going to happen…to…my wife…” He stared into space and relaxed, his hands still warm on mine. People were screaming into their cell phones, probably on 911. I staggered back, sat down, and started sobbing for a man I never knew.

~~~~~~~~

Three Pieces of Flesh

By Bo Yan Moran

Chapter One

A whiff of cheese seemed to have slowly curled up the staircase and into my nose during the night. I woke up with a jerk. That smell always seems to awaken me! I hate cheese! I hate being stuck working in my family’s cheese store; I hate the fact that my parents are visiting relatives and I’m not allowed to because I have to run the cheese store; I just hate this summer! When I complain, my parents always say, “Aisia, you really need to grow up. Not everything in life is interesting. A young lady of twenty-one and you don’t even know how to keep your head down and work!”

I guess I am adjusting to the boring life of working in a cheese store. But there are only three real customers: an old woman and two young men around my age. Only three customers! When I tell my parents that they should close the store, they say, “Really Aisia! Three regular customers is more than we can ask for!” So my ideas of closing the cheese store and starting a new life flew off and will never come back.

As I slowly got up and out of bed, I looked at the time. It was already eight-thirty and the cheese store opens at nine! That wouldn’t have really mattered to me, but my first regular customer, the old woman, always comes at nine o’clock sharp.

When I finally get downstairs, it’s already five minutes before nine! I quickened my pace of taking the cheese out of the big refrigerator, placing them in their assigned places, and opening the door to let some fresh air in. When I opened the door and stepped outside to take a deep breath of fresh air, I noticed a medium sized package lying right in front of the door. I stooped over to look at the address. It was addressed to me from my parents! Could they possibly have been so thoughtful as to send me a present to encourage me to continue working at the store? I doubted it. I quickly brought the package inside and started opening it. There was so much packaging! So much protection for whatever was inside! I t seemed like there wasn’t anything in there when I suddenly felt something hard and plastic near the center of the packaging. I was about to pull it out with a triumphant smile on my face when I heard an impatient tapping. The old lady had come in without me knowing and started tapping her foot impatiently waiting to be served. When she saw me look up, she said “Well, that’s an improvement, Aisia! You’ve actually noticed me! Wow!” Ooooh! She reminds me so much of a grumpy old cat! She makes me so mad!

Forgetting that I still had my arm halfway in the box, I looked at her coldly and said, “Good morning, Bella. How may I help you?” I moved towards her with my arm still in the box. When I got far enough away, my arm dragged the box off the counter and it fell with a crash. I looked back surprised.

Before I could clean up the mess of packaging on the floor, Bella very coolly said, “I forbid you to call me by my first name! Do NOT call me Bella! I will not tolerate such disrespect from a brat like you! From now on you will call me Mrs. Baker!” I was about to retort but I caught myself, left the mess on the floor, and walked over to her.

“How may I help you, Mrs. Baker?” I asked, emphasizing “Mrs. Baker.”

Mrs. Baker gave me a reproachful look while she answered, “Half a pound of brie and a quarter pound of blue cheese.” While I got her package ready, she tapped her foot impatiently again! She is an old cat! I was having trouble cutting the cheese because the cut pieces kept getting stuck to the knife… as usual! When Mrs. Baker noticed that I was having trouble cutting the cheese, she tapped her foot even faster and said, “You can’t even cut the cheese!”

Ignoring Mrs. Baker, I completed her package and told her the total cost while she muttered about something. As she went out the door, she shouted back to me, “I
wouldn’t be coming here if there wasn’t any other decent cheese store in town.” Then she stomped out of the store. Whoa! What was that for? What’s wrong with Bella?…I mean Mrs. Baker today? I mean she is grumpy everyday, but…oh well. I guess I can give my parents credit for having the best cheese store in town according to Mrs. Baker who is very hard to please.

Chapter Two

As I was pondering Mrs. Baker and the cheese store, another customer came in, one of the young men, and started to look around.

“Good morning, Peter” I said brightly, “How may I help you?”

“Hey Aisia! Don’t get all formal on me! “How may I help you?”” Peter said jokingly.

“Fine. What do you need, Peter? Better?” I said mockingly.

“Oh, I’m not sure yet.”

“OK. Then tell me when you’re ready.”

Peter grunted in response. I turned and walked back towards the cash register on the counter when I suddenly stepped on something that crunched under my shoe. I looked down and remembered the mysterious package from my parents. I quickly bent down and reached for what seemed like a small rectangular tin box. The box was plain with the word “cutlery” across the top. So my parents sent me something to help me with my work!

Chapter Three

With cutlery on my mind, I quickly opened the box and there, sitting on a cushion, was a knife! A very odd looking knife, too. It had a very cushioned black handle with the blade coming out the front. The blade was shaped like a triangle with a very sharp point. The serrated edge had many sharp teeth. But the most interesting part of the knife was the face of the blade. Where there was usually a solid piece of metal, there were three large triangular holes, each separated by a narrow piece of metal. What were the holes for? I quickly rummaged in the little tin box for a description of the knife. The description said that the holes were to stop the cheese from sticking to the knife. I must’ve squealed with delight because Peter quickly looked up, appearing startled.

“Are you OK?” Peter asked.

“I’m not ‘OK’, I’m absolutely thrilled!” I said happily.

“Why?”

“Because my parents just sent me this new type of knife that prevents cheese from sticking to the blade.”

“Oh, wow! That’s neat!”

“Yep. So are you going to buy anything?”

“Yes, my order is a quarter pound of Monterey Jack cheese.”

“OK. Anything else?”

“Mmmmmm. Yes. Dinner with you tonight.”

“Dinner wi…,” I Looked up at him and blushed.

“I couldn’t possibly,” I replied nervously.

“Why not?”

“Because,” my voice trailed off.

“That’s not a good reason!”

“Oh, OK, but at my house.”

“Why? You didn’t like my cooking?” Peter asked, pretending to be offended. We both knew that Peter could only make pancakes. I gave Peter such a look that he started laughing. I turned around and started cutting the cheese with my new knife which actually worked like it was supposed to. I was smiling to myself, pleased with the knife. Half-way through cutting the cheese, I noticed someone in the mirror half-way in the cheese shop who apparently had been listening to our conversation.

Chapter Four

I quickly whirled around and saw Alvin, my other regular customer, dart out of the shop. Leaving the cheese and the knife, I ran out of the shop. Even though Alvin had a head start, I caught up to him and grabbed his arm and jerked him around so that he would face me. I looked at him questioningly. He just stared back at me and abruptly said, “My house is right here, I need to go home.”

“Alvin, there’s nothing wrong with listening to my conversation with Peter because we didn’t talk privately. It’s a cheese store Alvin! Anybody can come in! Now you know that my family’s tore needs the money and I know perfectly well why you came. You wanted to buy a whole pound of cut Havarti cheese. You mentioned it yesterday. I have it all cut, packaged and ready for you. Now don’t make me put all my work to waste! Please!”

Alvin looked at me with curiosity and shrugged his shoulders and mumbled, “I guess I do need some Havarti.” As we walked back to the cheese store, I gripped Alvin’s arm firmly. I noticed that Alvin kept glancing in my direction. When we got to the cheese store, I released my grip from Alvin’s arm and finished Peter’s package. The whole time I was cutting cheese, I noticed Alvin in the mirror glancing reproachfully at Peter from time to time. When I finished the package, Peter paid for it. As he walked out, he called over his shoulder waving, “See ya at eight here!” I waved back. I went to the storage cabinet and took out Alvin’s package. While Alvin paid, he noticed my new knife and asked, “What kind of knife is that?”

“It’s a new type of cheese knife that doesn’t make the cheese stick to it!” I said excitedly.

“Oh cool! May I try it?”

“Yeah, sure. You can bring it home. Just make sure you bring it back at nine tomorrow,OK? I’m going to close the store now anyways.

“OK, thanks.” Alvin said, rushing out the door with the knife and package.

Chapter Five

I cleaned up and put all the cheese away. By the time I was finished, it was six o’clock! I had to hurry to get ready for dinner. I took a quick bath and took my time choosing my clothes for the evening. Then I put my hair up in a French twist. I looked in the mirror and had to admit that I looked rather stunning. I left the back door open so Peter could come in while I cooked. Ten minutes later, I heard footsteps in the hallway. “Peter, I’m in the kitchen!” There was no response.

“Peter?” I called anxiously. After no response again, I went in the hallway and didn’t see anybody. I shrugged it off. After fifteen minutes, I heard the back door slam.
“Peter! I’m in the kitchen!”

“OK,” Peter responded. I heard footsteps coming towards me and soon I heard a whistle at the door to the kitchen.

“You look amazing, Aisia! “Peter said.

“Thank you,” I responded. “I just finished cooking. Let me hang up the jacket for you.”

“No, I’ll do it,” Peter protested.

“No, really.”

“Fine.”

When I was walking over to hang up Peter’s jacket, it was completely dark, I didn’t bother to turn on the lights, I suddenly felt something brush my arm. I gasped.

“It’s just me, I’ll hang up the jacket,” Peter’s familiar voice replied.

“Peter! You’re the guest. Just go and make yourself at home while I hang up your jacket.” I replied quietly because for some reason, I didn’t feel like talking very loudly.

“Fine, fine,” Peter’s quiet voice replied reluctantly.

I walked over to the closet when I heard a sudden movement behind me. I froze, scared out of my wits. I heard padded footsteps behind me. I quickly unfroze myself and reached for the light switch. I heard heavy breathing behind me, I lunged for the light switch. The mysterious person behind lunged at me at the same time I lunged. It must’ve been like human dominoes because first the person behind me almost fell on me while stabbing me with a knife.

Since I was instantly dead, I fell limply on the light switch and turned on the light. While I watched from above as a ghost, I saw Alvin sprawled on top of my back which was bleeding profusely. My back seemed to be missing some flesh. I quickly glanced back at Alvin and the knife he was holding. It was my cheese knife and my flesh was stuck in the triangles. I heard a murmur from Alvin; I couldn’t comprehend a word he was saying so I glided closer to Alvin.

“Nooo! Aisia! My dear Aisia! I thought you were Peter! You never knew that every time I saw you, you took my heart away…”

As I watched and listened from my perch, I realized many things: When I saw Alvin eavesdropping on my conversation with Peter, he grew jealous of Peter because we were going out together. Alvin’s jealousy had caused his reproachful looks at Peter, the taking of my knife, and my death…and now Alvin’ s death too. For Alvin had just finished his confession over my dead body and he lunged the knife deep into his own heart.

“Aisia? What’s taking you so long?” called Peter’s distant voice.

Tears began to trickle down my face as I remembered that I was dead and I would never feel his hand in mine again. I cried and sobbed wanting Peter’s comforting arm around my shoulders to tell me that I wasn’t dead.

“Aisia!? Are you OK? Please answer me! Please!” Peter’s anxious voice called.
I suddenly heard Peter running towards the scene of Alvin’s crime.

When Peter appeared, he was confronted with an astonishing sight: The first thing he noticed was the blood. There was blood spattered everywhere on the white walls and carpet. Then Peter saw Alvin sprawled on his back on top of me with a knife protruding out of his chest. Peter ran over towards Alvin and turned him over and saw me…dead.

“NOOOO! Aisia! You aren’t dead! I need you! You’re not dead! You can’t be! NOOO!” Peter wailed.

Chapter Seven

From then on, I was very distant from the living world. I couldn’t see, hear, taste, smell, or feel like I used to. Everything was very bland and plain. Fortunately, even now, after sixty-two years, I still look the same as I did when I died. I have the same dress and shoes on and even my hairstyle is the same! I just wish that I had put on more perfume.

Chapter Eight

Once I was buried and got used to my ghost life, Alvin as a ghost, visited me acting as if nothing had changed except that Peter was out of the picture and it was just Alvin and me.

“Hey Aisia! How’s it going?” Alvin asked casually as he glided closer.

I flared up. “Who do you think you are!? First you kill me and as a result, taking me away from Peter! Did you really expect me to forgive and marry you? Well! I will never do such a thing, you heartless, crazy, maniac of a ghost!”

“Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” Alvin asked meekly.

“Make it up?! Make it ?!!” I exclaimed. “Yeah sure. Make me alive again! As if you could do that. No! There isn’t anything you can do, you murderer! Just go away and never come back!”

“Aisia, I will never leave you,” Alvin said quite slowly and firmly.

“If you haven’t learned this yet, ghosts can touch each other and I have every right to kill you right now! If you don’t go away right this second, I’ll kill you into a different dimension.”

“Just give me a chance.”

“You’re testing my patience! That’s it!”

I rushed at Alvin like a maniac and throttled him till he vanished into thin air into a different dimension. I felt satisfied. Deep down inside me I felt that vengeance had been taken to its fullest.

Chapter Nine

I still have hope to marry Peter as a ghost because every Sunday after church he visits my grave bringing a single red rose with him to put atop my grave. Ah! Here he comes now! As he slowly walks towards my grave I see that his eyes were closed for he knows his way to my grave so well.

When he arrived at my grave, I noticed the many lines and wrinkles in his face were deeper than I remembered. When he set down my rose, I got a very good look at him right before he collapsed on my grave. I knew I really wanted Peter to die, but I had a sudden urge of selflessness and glided over to the nearest living person I saw. I used my one time solidity so that I grabbed a young woman’s purse using it as a “carrot” to lure that shrieking woman over to the collapsed Peter where she did exactly what I wanted her to do: the woman stopped shrieking, grabbed her purse from my invisible outstretched hand, took out her cell phone, and called 911.

Chapter Ten

I watched as the ambulance came and went with a wistful look in my eye. I knew Peter would be OK. Sigh! I’ve waited sixty-two years… When is Peter going to die?

Epilogue for ‘happy ending’ readers

Peter, as it happens, wasn’t OK. Just an hour after he arrived at the hospital, he died. The moment he died, he came searching for me. I was so delighted. His happiness to find me made him look young again. We were married and invited all of our ghost friends.

In other words, we lived happily ever after.

Epilogue for ‘adventurous and imaginative ending’ readers

I’ve waited for seventy-nine years and Peter still isn’t dead! Is everybody becoming immortal?

~~~~~~~~

Until the next workshop…