~ Gertrude D. Macabellow
I looked outside to check on the typewriter (because I know I put it in the trash bin) and it wasn’t in sight. But when I looked to my left, I saw it neatly placed on the table. My heart was beating rapidly and I felt as if I was just going to pass out. I said, quivering, “I know I put it in the trash bin. I just know it.”
“What happened,” Dareeka said, and she checked outside to see what I was pointing at. She didn’t see anything. But I heard this key click inside of the living room where we were standing and there it was on the table again. Another click came. And then all of the keys started clicking rapidly. The house was shaking like an earthquake came all of a sudden and I heard a voice announce, “VIVIEN!!!!!!!!!” The furniture started floating everywhere and windows were either cracking or breaking entirely. Electronics starting turning on and off and the foundation of the house was decaying. “Run outside,” my mom told us while she brought the typewriter outside. We did as she said.
Looking back at the house, we started to get so terrified that we didn’t know what to do.
“What are you doing with the typewriter,” I asked as loud as I could.
“I’m going to take it to The Cemetery of Despereaux. It’s where Gertrude’s corpse resides. Here, grab a shovel, each of you.” Dareeka and I both grabbed two shovels off of the house and put them in the trunk of my mom’s Honda. We sped on to the cemetery site while the ground was starting to develop large potholes that were difficult to dodge.
When we arrived at the graveyard, we got out, got the shovels out, and started to search for Gertrude’s tombstone. There were so many tombstones here, some similar and some bigger than the others and some even able to be stepped over. I finally saw her grave and pointed to it. She had a bigger tombstone out of all that we saw. Probably because of what she did and what she was remembered for. Dareeka and I started digging our rumps off and as soon as we got to the casket, I yelled to Mom, “I found the casket!”
“Great. Now come out of the hole. I want to give her this typewriter myself.” As we crawled out of the hole, she got into the hole, opened up the casket, and put the typewriter in Gertrude’s fragile arms. Soon after she got out of the hole, the ground shook — toppling us over — and a spectral figure rose from the casket. It had curly hair, a pure white face, and a delicate smile. Since it came from Gertrude's grave, I’m assuming that it was Gertrude’s appearance. A second later, she ascended into the sky while fading away in the process. Gone completely, Mom ran towards us and hugged us tightly, saying, “I’m so sorry, Ashton. I promise that I’ll never put you in this situation again.” I wouldn’t think she’ll keep her promise in keep her promise in this “type” of situation (get it?) but I’ll accept the apology for now. We soon left the graveyard site, leaving the hole where it was and going home so we could rest.
“So did you see Gertrude, Mom,” I asked her.
“What do you mean, Ashton,” she wondered.
“The apparition that went up into the sky? Didn’t you see it?”
“I didn’t see anything? Do you need to go to the doctor again?” I was about to get upset with her, but it’s been such a long day that I didn’t feel like commenting on her suggestion. All I thought about was laying down on the plush Serta in my room.
The next day at school…
“Have a great day, students,” Mr. Cliff said as the bell rang. Everybody got out of their seats and exited the classroom. I was last going out. “Um, could I see you for a minute, Mr. Patch,” Mr. Cliff asked.
“Sure, Mr. Cliff?” I went over to his desk.
“So, how did things go yesterday?”
“Things were kind of crazy with Gertrude and all, but we solved it by returning her typewriter back to her grave. Everything is finally back to normal.”
“I’m glad that things are better for you. You made a 100 on your test.”
“I did? Thanks, Mr. Cliff!” I made an excellent score on the test that we did on Spectral Matter. Probably because I just encountered a ghost writer. Oh wait, I got that from Brandy.
I met back up with Dareeka and she asked me, “So how was your night?”
“Blissful,” I replied. “Finally slept like a baby.”
“Wow. That’s been a while.”
“Yeah. Hey, since you helped me, do you think I should return the favor?”
“Okay. What do you have?”
“This.” I reached in my book bag to give Dareeka a gift and it was her favorite: a brown bear holding a crimson heart with the words “Love is beary nice” across it, along with a blue dress that looked like a nightgown but I guess it was supposed to be just a dress. Dareeka had an amazed look on her face and she immediately hugged me tightly. She said, “I love it, love it, love it! Thanks, Ash!” Without hesitation, she kissed me on the cheek, making me blush on the inside and outside.
“It was really nothing, but I just wanted to give you something.”
“I’ll put it on my shelf with my Annabelle doll.”
“WHAT?!”
“Just kidding. Never in my life would I get that thing. Oh, I meant to ask you. What do you think will happen next? About Gertrude and her typewriter?”
“Who knows? I’m not trying to figure out.”
“Me neither.”
Back at the graveyard site, the groundskeeper was checking on tombstones in the afternoon. He came across Gertrude’s tombstone and noticed that a hole was dug up exposing the casket. He sighed and said, “Some people.” As he was about to bury the casket again with dirt, he suddenly had this curious feeling of what was inside. He went into the hole, opened the casket, and it was the corpse of Gertrude with her arms still around the typewriter. He was thinking, Huh. Why would a perfectly clean typewriter go to waste in a dusty, old casket like this? And as a curious man would do, he scooped up the typewriter from the casket and took it out the hole. But in an instant…
.... he was deceased.
End.
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