Grab Bag Writing Challenge - October 2016
- acorn - bugbear - cobweb - curse - eerie - forage - gourd - howl - moonlit - panic - phantom - ripe - spook - torment - vibrant -
by Arianna Stonewater
One moonlit night, John was walking home after the high school football game. His parents had offered him a ride, but he didn’t want to leave early and he only lived a mile and a half away, so he decided to walk. Besides, he had done it many times before, why should tonight be any different?
As he walked down the sidewalk, he found an acorn and kicked it along the path. As he walked and kicked, he looked up at all the Halloween decorations on people’s lawns and porches. The O’Donnells had set up a group of gourds to look like a Christmas tree, strung with vibrant LED lights. Mrs. Johnson covered her whole porch in glow-in-the-dark cobwebs. Each home was uniquely decorated and gave this street an eerie feel.
As he turned the corner to a new row of decorated houses, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out to discover it was just a phantom vibration; something anyone with a cell phone knows too well. Just then he heard a tormented growl in the bushes to his right. He froze and brought up the flashlight on his phone, shining it at the bushes. A little fox soon ran out from the bushes he was foraging in.
John cursed and then laughed at himself for being so spooked. John kept walking, checking out the decorations. He had to stop for a second to laugh at Mr. Carver’s porch. Many years ago, he had the scariest house on the block. Clowns, bugbears, tormented ghouls; you name it, he had it! But then his first grandkid was born, and her first Halloween she panicked at the sight of his house and refused to go until it was “no scary no more.” Now it was filled with silly ghosts, Peanuts Halloween blow-up characters, and candyland decorations.
Finally he arrived at his own house, a yard full of ripe zombies (his younger sister insisted rotting corpses, even fake ones, must smell bad). As he held his breath and walked up the steps, he heard a howl. John ran inside and locked the door safely behind him. It was probably just a dog who spotted a cat or something, but why take the chance?
One moonlit night, John was walking home after the high school football game. His parents had offered him a ride, but he didn’t want to leave early and he only lived a mile and a half away, so he decided to walk. Besides, he had done it many times before, why should tonight be any different?
As he walked down the sidewalk, he found an acorn and kicked it along the path. As he walked and kicked, he looked up at all the Halloween decorations on people’s lawns and porches. The O’Donnells had set up a group of gourds to look like a Christmas tree, strung with vibrant LED lights. Mrs. Johnson covered her whole porch in glow-in-the-dark cobwebs. Each home was uniquely decorated and gave this street an eerie feel.
As he turned the corner to a new row of decorated houses, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out to discover it was just a phantom vibration; something anyone with a cell phone knows too well. Just then he heard a tormented growl in the bushes to his right. He froze and brought up the flashlight on his phone, shining it at the bushes. A little fox soon ran out from the bushes he was foraging in.
John cursed and then laughed at himself for being so spooked. John kept walking, checking out the decorations. He had to stop for a second to laugh at Mr. Carver’s porch. Many years ago, he had the scariest house on the block. Clowns, bugbears, tormented ghouls; you name it, he had it! But then his first grandkid was born, and her first Halloween she panicked at the sight of his house and refused to go until it was “no scary no more.” Now it was filled with silly ghosts, Peanuts Halloween blow-up characters, and candyland decorations.
Finally he arrived at his own house, a yard full of ripe zombies (his younger sister insisted rotting corpses, even fake ones, must smell bad). As he held his breath and walked up the steps, he heard a howl. John ran inside and locked the door safely behind him. It was probably just a dog who spotted a cat or something, but why take the chance?
by Ashley Margaret
Two young boys walked along the narrow moonlit path towards the dark forbidding house at the end of the street. The street was lined with trees of vibrant fall colors and well-kept houses, but the house at the end of road was a different story. The rays of the moon streamed down on the roof of the derelict two-story house.
They stopped as they reached the front porch of the house. Instead of the beautiful ripe pumpkins and gourds that decorated the front porches of the other houses on the street, this one was filled with cobwebs and years of overgrown plants and vines. The younger of the two, clearly nervous, kicked an acorn aside and waited for the other boy to make a move. The older, more daring boy was not easily spooked. He moved aside the front door that was hanging from its hinges and walked inside the dark and eerie house. The younger of the two, panicked and clearly not wanting to be left alone, quickly followed. He knew that if he ran away, his older brother would torment him for being a coward for years to come.
The inside of the house was just as spooky. Every step made another floorboard creak and every dark corner was another possibility for someone or something to be lurking. It was the perfect home for a ghost or phantom. Even though the dark was a bugbear for the younger boy, he continued to follow his brother further into the house.
Once he was a few steps away from the once-grand staircase, he heard a howl from upstairs and froze in place. A huge four-legged hairy creature appeared at the top of the stairs. Cursing his brother, the boy ran across the room, out the front door, and all the way back to his house as the werewolf began his nighttime forage for food.
Two young boys walked along the narrow moonlit path towards the dark forbidding house at the end of the street. The street was lined with trees of vibrant fall colors and well-kept houses, but the house at the end of road was a different story. The rays of the moon streamed down on the roof of the derelict two-story house.
They stopped as they reached the front porch of the house. Instead of the beautiful ripe pumpkins and gourds that decorated the front porches of the other houses on the street, this one was filled with cobwebs and years of overgrown plants and vines. The younger of the two, clearly nervous, kicked an acorn aside and waited for the other boy to make a move. The older, more daring boy was not easily spooked. He moved aside the front door that was hanging from its hinges and walked inside the dark and eerie house. The younger of the two, panicked and clearly not wanting to be left alone, quickly followed. He knew that if he ran away, his older brother would torment him for being a coward for years to come.
The inside of the house was just as spooky. Every step made another floorboard creak and every dark corner was another possibility for someone or something to be lurking. It was the perfect home for a ghost or phantom. Even though the dark was a bugbear for the younger boy, he continued to follow his brother further into the house.
Once he was a few steps away from the once-grand staircase, he heard a howl from upstairs and froze in place. A huge four-legged hairy creature appeared at the top of the stairs. Cursing his brother, the boy ran across the room, out the front door, and all the way back to his house as the werewolf began his nighttime forage for food.
by Aurelia West
Upon waking, Heather’s eyes scanned the small, moonlit clearing she had awoken in. Acorns littered the ground, and she saw ripened apples hanging from the trees above her. Her last memory had been preparing to go out trick-or-treating with her younger brother when she had heard an eerie howl from nearby and saw a vibrant flash of blue.
She quickly searched for her brother, catching the slight reddish color of his costume out of the corner of her eye. She breathed a sigh of relief; at least wherever she was, she wasn’t there alone and she could still look after him. She stepped towards him, dodging cobwebs that hung from the drooping branches of the trees, creating spooky shadows upon the ground.
As she reached him, she shook his shoulder gently. “Austin, are you alright?” she questioned, trying not to let panic seep into her tone. He opened his eyes slowly and nodded.
“Yep, I’m fine,” he answered, “but where are we?” Heather paused.
“I’m not entirely sure,” she answered, truthfully. “Do you remember anything after that howl we heard?”
“I heard a deep voice. It said something about a curse…” he drifted off, his eyes becoming wide. Heather quickly spun around. Behind her stood a tall creature whose face was covered by the shadows. She grabbed onto a gourd, the nearest thing to her, and prepared to throw it at the intruder.
“Who are you?” she asked boldly, “Don’t come any closer to us!” The creature stopped advancing.
“I am the Bugbear,” it answered, “Perhaps you have heard of me.” Both kids shook their heads.
“I am known for tormenting children,” the creature added, “or at least that is my legacy in popular culture.” A pause. “I’ve brought you here for a reason,” it began again, “a curse, as you may have guessed, runs in your family, from the days of your great-grandmother.” Heather and Austin looked at each other, looks of confusion mirrored in their eyes.
“You see,” the Bugbear continued as it began foraging through a small bag at its waist, “your great-grandmother was a phantom hunter. Phantoms are known to be creatures of chaos, embarking to the mortal world for the sole purpose of inflicting harm upon the residents. Phantom hunters are rare, as most humans are unable to see them, but your great-grandmother had the ability to see and hunt them.”
“What does that have anything to do with us though?” Heather questioned.
“You need to pick up where she left off,” the Bugbear answered, “we’ve waiting generations for the same gift to appear in your family line, and you two finally have it.”
“We? And what does this have to do with a curse?”
“We, the community of those not of the mortal realm you call home, who only ever visit in passing. We need you to help us keep the phantoms in control, as we really wish no ill will upon your home. As for the curse, being a phantom hunter is a curse in many ways. You will need to leave behind most of what you know now and walk in between the worlds for a long time. The rewards are not many, nor are they great, but you will save a good number of people.” Another pause. The Bugbear seemed to be waiting for an answer.
Heather and Austin looked at each other, hesitantly. “What do you think?” Heather asked.
“I think we should do it,” Austin said definitely, “We have a special gift we can use to help people, so I think we should use it, even if we’re not rewarded.”
“I agree,” Heather said, “I don’t love the idea, but it seems like the right thing to do. Lead the way, Mr. Bugbear.”
Upon waking, Heather’s eyes scanned the small, moonlit clearing she had awoken in. Acorns littered the ground, and she saw ripened apples hanging from the trees above her. Her last memory had been preparing to go out trick-or-treating with her younger brother when she had heard an eerie howl from nearby and saw a vibrant flash of blue.
She quickly searched for her brother, catching the slight reddish color of his costume out of the corner of her eye. She breathed a sigh of relief; at least wherever she was, she wasn’t there alone and she could still look after him. She stepped towards him, dodging cobwebs that hung from the drooping branches of the trees, creating spooky shadows upon the ground.
As she reached him, she shook his shoulder gently. “Austin, are you alright?” she questioned, trying not to let panic seep into her tone. He opened his eyes slowly and nodded.
“Yep, I’m fine,” he answered, “but where are we?” Heather paused.
“I’m not entirely sure,” she answered, truthfully. “Do you remember anything after that howl we heard?”
“I heard a deep voice. It said something about a curse…” he drifted off, his eyes becoming wide. Heather quickly spun around. Behind her stood a tall creature whose face was covered by the shadows. She grabbed onto a gourd, the nearest thing to her, and prepared to throw it at the intruder.
“Who are you?” she asked boldly, “Don’t come any closer to us!” The creature stopped advancing.
“I am the Bugbear,” it answered, “Perhaps you have heard of me.” Both kids shook their heads.
“I am known for tormenting children,” the creature added, “or at least that is my legacy in popular culture.” A pause. “I’ve brought you here for a reason,” it began again, “a curse, as you may have guessed, runs in your family, from the days of your great-grandmother.” Heather and Austin looked at each other, looks of confusion mirrored in their eyes.
“You see,” the Bugbear continued as it began foraging through a small bag at its waist, “your great-grandmother was a phantom hunter. Phantoms are known to be creatures of chaos, embarking to the mortal world for the sole purpose of inflicting harm upon the residents. Phantom hunters are rare, as most humans are unable to see them, but your great-grandmother had the ability to see and hunt them.”
“What does that have anything to do with us though?” Heather questioned.
“You need to pick up where she left off,” the Bugbear answered, “we’ve waiting generations for the same gift to appear in your family line, and you two finally have it.”
“We? And what does this have to do with a curse?”
“We, the community of those not of the mortal realm you call home, who only ever visit in passing. We need you to help us keep the phantoms in control, as we really wish no ill will upon your home. As for the curse, being a phantom hunter is a curse in many ways. You will need to leave behind most of what you know now and walk in between the worlds for a long time. The rewards are not many, nor are they great, but you will save a good number of people.” Another pause. The Bugbear seemed to be waiting for an answer.
Heather and Austin looked at each other, hesitantly. “What do you think?” Heather asked.
“I think we should do it,” Austin said definitely, “We have a special gift we can use to help people, so I think we should use it, even if we’re not rewarded.”
“I agree,” Heather said, “I don’t love the idea, but it seems like the right thing to do. Lead the way, Mr. Bugbear.”
by Maxim Trevelyan
"I don't think it's a good idea."
Maxim rolled his eyes at Gary, one of his fellow Hufflepuff second years. "I think it's a brilliant idea," he replied.
"Just the fact that you think it's a brilliant idea makes it a horrible idea," Gary grumbled and shut his book. "Do I need to remind you what happened last Halloween?"
"That was a fluke. How was I to know Professor Harebottom was allergic to gourds?" Maxim shrugged. "Couldn't he be allergic to a normal thing, like peanuts?" he hissed. Last year, Maxim and his friends decided to start a tradition of sorts at Hogwarts. The person (or people if they chose to form a team) who brought the best item from a Professor's office won. He managed to rope all the Houses into the competition. Maxim had an amazing plan to break into Potions Professor's office and temporarily borrow one of his wigs. It would had been a guaranteed victory, which involved a month of planning, a cat, three pieces of parchment and several pounds of gourd guts. Unfortunately for Maxim, it ended in curses, a panic, as well as anaphylactic attack and several weeks of detention.
"You put a Professor in the Hospital Wing, Maxim. Without getting his wig," Gary pointed out.
"It's not like he was fooling anyone with them," Maxim murmured. "Besides, it was an honest accident. No harm, no foul."
Gary didn't even want to point out the wrongness of that sentence and just kept his mouth shut. He hope his friend would stop at this nonsense.
"But think about it Gary, I got the idea of what we can do," Maxim grinned.
"If I indulge you, will you stop with this plan, which I am sure is doomed to fail?" Gary dryly asked.
"Perhaps. Anyway... listen to this." Maxim paused for a more dramatic effect. "Prof. Silver's beater trophy. And you are going to help me steal it, acorn-head."
"Oh, no. No, no, no. You are not bringing me into this again!" Gary objected, but, in reality, both Hufflepuffs knew all resistance was futile.
"I don't think it's a good idea."
Maxim rolled his eyes at Gary, one of his fellow Hufflepuff second years. "I think it's a brilliant idea," he replied.
"Just the fact that you think it's a brilliant idea makes it a horrible idea," Gary grumbled and shut his book. "Do I need to remind you what happened last Halloween?"
"That was a fluke. How was I to know Professor Harebottom was allergic to gourds?" Maxim shrugged. "Couldn't he be allergic to a normal thing, like peanuts?" he hissed. Last year, Maxim and his friends decided to start a tradition of sorts at Hogwarts. The person (or people if they chose to form a team) who brought the best item from a Professor's office won. He managed to rope all the Houses into the competition. Maxim had an amazing plan to break into Potions Professor's office and temporarily borrow one of his wigs. It would had been a guaranteed victory, which involved a month of planning, a cat, three pieces of parchment and several pounds of gourd guts. Unfortunately for Maxim, it ended in curses, a panic, as well as anaphylactic attack and several weeks of detention.
"You put a Professor in the Hospital Wing, Maxim. Without getting his wig," Gary pointed out.
"It's not like he was fooling anyone with them," Maxim murmured. "Besides, it was an honest accident. No harm, no foul."
Gary didn't even want to point out the wrongness of that sentence and just kept his mouth shut. He hope his friend would stop at this nonsense.
"But think about it Gary, I got the idea of what we can do," Maxim grinned.
"If I indulge you, will you stop with this plan, which I am sure is doomed to fail?" Gary dryly asked.
"Perhaps. Anyway... listen to this." Maxim paused for a more dramatic effect. "Prof. Silver's beater trophy. And you are going to help me steal it, acorn-head."
"Oh, no. No, no, no. You are not bringing me into this again!" Gary objected, but, in reality, both Hufflepuffs knew all resistance was futile.
***
"Come on," Maxim whispered as he and Gary slithered across the moonlit corridor. It was the night before Halloween and they only had an hour to successfully acquire Prof. Silver's beater trophy, before she returned from her inspection rounds around Hogwarts. While the Charms classroom was on the 3rd floor, Professor Silver had her chambers in the dungeons. Really impractical.
"Here it is," Gary pointed at the seemingly innocuous part of a wall, which was covered with old and new cobwebs. However, if anyone tried to enter them without the right password, Maxim had it on good authority the person would be tormented with nightmarish visions of zombie phantoms for at least a month.
"Are you sure you know the right password?" Gary worriedly said to Maxim. He also heard the rumours and, really, all students knew Professor Silver was evil. That was why their prize, if they managed to get it, would definitely give them a victory.
"Do you doubt me?" Maxim grinned and stopped in front of the wall. When he inquisitively cocked his head, the grey color of the wall seemed unnaturally vibrant.
"Bugbear," he loudly said and hold his breath in anticipation. After a moment of silence, the wall creaked and revealed dark mahogany door.
"I'm right?" Maxim could not believe his eyes and just stared for a while.
"Seldom," Gary sassed and moved further in. "Come on Maxim, we only have half an hour left." As the boys moved into the private chambers, Gary asked. "How on Earth did you get the password? And a correct one to boot."
"One of the house-elves in the kitchen knows a talking parrot. The parrot used to belong to a squib of wizarding family in Devon, who had to get rid of it after it insulted the guests, something about ripe bananas? One of the guests was at a wedding of my cousin's husband's stepbrother's daughter, whose family breeds Crups. Two of their litter, Tramp and Lady were given to a nephew of my uncle's aunt's son, but he got bored with them and the responsibility fell on the shoulders of a House-Elf called Maiar, who used to work for Professor Silver's gardener, who told me she always uses the same password for all her important work. Really irresponsible if you ask me."
What could Gary say but just stare in amazement. "You scare me sometimes. That was...eerie."
"And now we only have twenty minutes," Maxim almost yelped. "Gary, you go to the right, I'll go left," he ordered his friend and moved to the left side of the room.
"Why left? The glass cases are on the right side?" Gary asked, suddenly very suspicious of his companion. Maxim always seemed to have an ulterior motive to his plans.
"Okay, so there is a rumor that Silver is a werewolf," Maxim started, ignoring his friend's annoyed huff.
"You started the rumor!" Gary exclaimed.
"But that doesn't mean it can't be true!" Maxim defended himself and foraged in the drawers that lined the left side of the room.
Gary shook his head with a sigh and inspected the glass cabinets, while Maxim went into another room. There were a lot of books, trophies and awards behind the glass, making the work quite taxing. After a couple of minutes, he thought he saw their intended item, when a loud howl pierced the silence of the room. A howl that sounded very, very close.
Maxim ran out of the room and past his friend yelling, "SHE'S A WEREWOLF!" Gary managed to snag Maxim's arm, which saw both of the boys sprinting out of the chambers like their robes were on fire.
"Here it is," Gary pointed at the seemingly innocuous part of a wall, which was covered with old and new cobwebs. However, if anyone tried to enter them without the right password, Maxim had it on good authority the person would be tormented with nightmarish visions of zombie phantoms for at least a month.
"Are you sure you know the right password?" Gary worriedly said to Maxim. He also heard the rumours and, really, all students knew Professor Silver was evil. That was why their prize, if they managed to get it, would definitely give them a victory.
"Do you doubt me?" Maxim grinned and stopped in front of the wall. When he inquisitively cocked his head, the grey color of the wall seemed unnaturally vibrant.
"Bugbear," he loudly said and hold his breath in anticipation. After a moment of silence, the wall creaked and revealed dark mahogany door.
"I'm right?" Maxim could not believe his eyes and just stared for a while.
"Seldom," Gary sassed and moved further in. "Come on Maxim, we only have half an hour left." As the boys moved into the private chambers, Gary asked. "How on Earth did you get the password? And a correct one to boot."
"One of the house-elves in the kitchen knows a talking parrot. The parrot used to belong to a squib of wizarding family in Devon, who had to get rid of it after it insulted the guests, something about ripe bananas? One of the guests was at a wedding of my cousin's husband's stepbrother's daughter, whose family breeds Crups. Two of their litter, Tramp and Lady were given to a nephew of my uncle's aunt's son, but he got bored with them and the responsibility fell on the shoulders of a House-Elf called Maiar, who used to work for Professor Silver's gardener, who told me she always uses the same password for all her important work. Really irresponsible if you ask me."
What could Gary say but just stare in amazement. "You scare me sometimes. That was...eerie."
"And now we only have twenty minutes," Maxim almost yelped. "Gary, you go to the right, I'll go left," he ordered his friend and moved to the left side of the room.
"Why left? The glass cases are on the right side?" Gary asked, suddenly very suspicious of his companion. Maxim always seemed to have an ulterior motive to his plans.
"Okay, so there is a rumor that Silver is a werewolf," Maxim started, ignoring his friend's annoyed huff.
"You started the rumor!" Gary exclaimed.
"But that doesn't mean it can't be true!" Maxim defended himself and foraged in the drawers that lined the left side of the room.
Gary shook his head with a sigh and inspected the glass cabinets, while Maxim went into another room. There were a lot of books, trophies and awards behind the glass, making the work quite taxing. After a couple of minutes, he thought he saw their intended item, when a loud howl pierced the silence of the room. A howl that sounded very, very close.
Maxim ran out of the room and past his friend yelling, "SHE'S A WEREWOLF!" Gary managed to snag Maxim's arm, which saw both of the boys sprinting out of the chambers like their robes were on fire.
***
They didn't stop until they reached the Hufflepuff common room. It was a miracle they weren't caught by Prefects or Professors.
"So it's true?" Gary asked his panting partner in crime.
"Well, I didn't actually see her. As soon as I opened one of her nightstand, howls started from under the bed and I just ran. Too spooky," Maxim nodded.
"At least we didn't get the detention this time," Gary darkly murmured.
Maxim nodded and started plotting how to liberate one of the beloved snapdragons belonging to the Herbology Professor. They still had until 9 pm on Halloween to submit their item. Better to come with a mediocre one than no item at all.
"So it's true?" Gary asked his panting partner in crime.
"Well, I didn't actually see her. As soon as I opened one of her nightstand, howls started from under the bed and I just ran. Too spooky," Maxim nodded.
"At least we didn't get the detention this time," Gary darkly murmured.
Maxim nodded and started plotting how to liberate one of the beloved snapdragons belonging to the Herbology Professor. They still had until 9 pm on Halloween to submit their item. Better to come with a mediocre one than no item at all.
by Meredith Malkins
What is it about the moon? "Moonlit forests are always so spooky," she thought, even if they are perfectly friendly in the daytime. She took a sip from the gourd at her side to help her dry mouth. Eerie phantoms of mist swirled around her as she trudged on, following the darkened path through the trees. If she stuck to the path, the hungry howls would leave her be, certainly an upside to magical roads, if this could be called a road. She was safe, and knew better than to let the fingertips of panic begin to take hold. It's why she didn't bring lanterns, you cannot be tormented by shadows if the shadows are not cast in the first place. It really was best to focus on the mission at hand. She had a bag of acorns from the oldest oak tree, which she had to travel a very long way to get. She had one entire cobweb from an acromantula, which was quite an interesting mission, and, luckily, successful. She had managed to catch a bugbear, from which she would extract essence later. All that was left was the flower of a special type of mandrake, picked from a ripe plant on a full moon, which was why she was here at this time of night. Foraging for magical ingredients was never a job she would've ever seen herself in, but merchants had to get their wares from someplace and being a supplier was good business, especially as everyone else was either too chicken to do it, or dead. Certainly it wasn't a safe job, but the Galleons were worth it. Well, until you got yourself cursed to half-death by an Egyptian wizard in Cairo. "Poor Pecan. He would've liked this job," she mused, as she stepped out of the trees and into the swamp. The fog was thick, so dense it carpeted the ground, yet the surprisingly vibrant flowers were easily visible. They were ragged, almost garish, but beautiful in their own way. She took her scissors from her belt and started the harvest. The snips cut through the air loud and harsh, but soon enough she had filled her huge basket, and set off for her little cottage. Tomorrow, she would give her wares to the merchants who ordered them, and get a hefty amount of gold for her silver-lighted effort. "Just another night," she smiled.
What is it about the moon? "Moonlit forests are always so spooky," she thought, even if they are perfectly friendly in the daytime. She took a sip from the gourd at her side to help her dry mouth. Eerie phantoms of mist swirled around her as she trudged on, following the darkened path through the trees. If she stuck to the path, the hungry howls would leave her be, certainly an upside to magical roads, if this could be called a road. She was safe, and knew better than to let the fingertips of panic begin to take hold. It's why she didn't bring lanterns, you cannot be tormented by shadows if the shadows are not cast in the first place. It really was best to focus on the mission at hand. She had a bag of acorns from the oldest oak tree, which she had to travel a very long way to get. She had one entire cobweb from an acromantula, which was quite an interesting mission, and, luckily, successful. She had managed to catch a bugbear, from which she would extract essence later. All that was left was the flower of a special type of mandrake, picked from a ripe plant on a full moon, which was why she was here at this time of night. Foraging for magical ingredients was never a job she would've ever seen herself in, but merchants had to get their wares from someplace and being a supplier was good business, especially as everyone else was either too chicken to do it, or dead. Certainly it wasn't a safe job, but the Galleons were worth it. Well, until you got yourself cursed to half-death by an Egyptian wizard in Cairo. "Poor Pecan. He would've liked this job," she mused, as she stepped out of the trees and into the swamp. The fog was thick, so dense it carpeted the ground, yet the surprisingly vibrant flowers were easily visible. They were ragged, almost garish, but beautiful in their own way. She took her scissors from her belt and started the harvest. The snips cut through the air loud and harsh, but soon enough she had filled her huge basket, and set off for her little cottage. Tomorrow, she would give her wares to the merchants who ordered them, and get a hefty amount of gold for her silver-lighted effort. "Just another night," she smiled.
by Polaris Black
The trees were bare after the first frost of the season. Their leaves on the ground were vibrant orange, yellow, and red. It was a moonlit night and the shadows hid all kinds of secrets. One of those secrets was a hungry bugbear, frantically searching for food. He hadn’t eaten for days and he was definitely feeling the effects. The more he searched, the more he felt like his head was filled with cobwebs. Finally he found a solitary acorn, then another, and another. They tasted terribly bitter. Clearly, those tree nuts that he found weren’t going to cut it; he needed a real meal. His luck improved a little when he found a gourd. But when he bit into it, it tasted awful; it wasn’t even ripe.
So he continued to forage for about an hour, but he found nothing else that was edible. He began to panic in earnest and decided to abandon the area. He had been walking quickly for awhile when suddenly a tormented scream pierced the silence. It wasn’t really a scream but rather more of a howl. His head cleared instantly as he excitedly anticipated an encounter with a werewolf; he wasn’t spooked at all and looked forward to the fight. But the source of the eerie sound was not a werewolf. This other secret hidden in the shadows proved to be a phantom, not a beast or being at all. It glowed in the distance mocking him. "Curses, foiled again!" he thought, as he moved toward higher ground.
The trees were bare after the first frost of the season. Their leaves on the ground were vibrant orange, yellow, and red. It was a moonlit night and the shadows hid all kinds of secrets. One of those secrets was a hungry bugbear, frantically searching for food. He hadn’t eaten for days and he was definitely feeling the effects. The more he searched, the more he felt like his head was filled with cobwebs. Finally he found a solitary acorn, then another, and another. They tasted terribly bitter. Clearly, those tree nuts that he found weren’t going to cut it; he needed a real meal. His luck improved a little when he found a gourd. But when he bit into it, it tasted awful; it wasn’t even ripe.
So he continued to forage for about an hour, but he found nothing else that was edible. He began to panic in earnest and decided to abandon the area. He had been walking quickly for awhile when suddenly a tormented scream pierced the silence. It wasn’t really a scream but rather more of a howl. His head cleared instantly as he excitedly anticipated an encounter with a werewolf; he wasn’t spooked at all and looked forward to the fight. But the source of the eerie sound was not a werewolf. This other secret hidden in the shadows proved to be a phantom, not a beast or being at all. It glowed in the distance mocking him. "Curses, foiled again!" he thought, as he moved toward higher ground.
by Sirius Fudge
The Phantom, also popularly called as Zoki, Poki, yes, our headmaster, is thought to be feared in all of HOL Hogwarts. Ickle firsties would stretch their necks to see a glimpse of him in the welcoming feast every year. A few words from his mouth could give spooky hair-rising feels all over ickles’ bodies. It was rumoured that he would run in a moonlit field, let out a howl in the Forbidden Forest, and curse some acromantulas along the way with much ease. Some ickles said that he reminds them of the Bugbear, and that he had a secret room in the tunnels where he torments his ickles.
He is Zoki Phantom, the headmaster of Hogwarts. Just saying his name could cause someone to panic, or in someone’s terms, the eerie feel of a room. But no one knows that he is just the good opposite professor. Those nightly visits to the Forbidden Forest is his idea of alone time, where he gets to forage for delicious, warm fruits, maybe a gourd as well. His favorite types are those juicy, ripe, sweet ones. He enjoys picking them and eating them on the spot. As a result, there is the vibrant atmosphere produced in the forest at night that its creatures would let him do what he wants. Even the cobwebs would let him pass, which amuses him. But his favorite part of the experience is finding a perfectly-shaped acorn along the way. It is a bonus experience that is treasured by him. The next time you see Mr. Zoki, give him a good greeting.
The Phantom, also popularly called as Zoki, Poki, yes, our headmaster, is thought to be feared in all of HOL Hogwarts. Ickle firsties would stretch their necks to see a glimpse of him in the welcoming feast every year. A few words from his mouth could give spooky hair-rising feels all over ickles’ bodies. It was rumoured that he would run in a moonlit field, let out a howl in the Forbidden Forest, and curse some acromantulas along the way with much ease. Some ickles said that he reminds them of the Bugbear, and that he had a secret room in the tunnels where he torments his ickles.
He is Zoki Phantom, the headmaster of Hogwarts. Just saying his name could cause someone to panic, or in someone’s terms, the eerie feel of a room. But no one knows that he is just the good opposite professor. Those nightly visits to the Forbidden Forest is his idea of alone time, where he gets to forage for delicious, warm fruits, maybe a gourd as well. His favorite types are those juicy, ripe, sweet ones. He enjoys picking them and eating them on the spot. As a result, there is the vibrant atmosphere produced in the forest at night that its creatures would let him do what he wants. Even the cobwebs would let him pass, which amuses him. But his favorite part of the experience is finding a perfectly-shaped acorn along the way. It is a bonus experience that is treasured by him. The next time you see Mr. Zoki, give him a good greeting.