Spoiler
'tis my entry for The BIG Random Story Theme Contest (ages 13-17) My theme was : Write a story about contruction worker in a school hallway kicking stove.
The Stove Witch
“Isn’t it weird that this upper section of school has never been completed?” Chris smirks. I turn to look at him, and nod, not allowing myself to be disturbed by those traumatic legends blowing at the work. Witches don’t exist, so they can’t be the reason for the mayhem up in the school.
“Whatever,” I shrug my shoulders, and hoick the construction kit of mine lying down on the road. I pull it behind my back, and adjust its straps on my strong shoulders.
“Uh, so you’d be going in there tonight?” Chris slaps my back, and starts laughing gallingly. “Protect yourself from the witch.”
I give him a look, for when I don’t want people meddling in my work.
“Yeah, right, you would,” he takes off his hands from my back, and pushes away the smile. I finally give a weak smile, but his face remains taut.
I scuttle my way inside the school building, my steps getting messier with each passing second.
***
Up in the school, it’s all dark, like I’ve been pushed into a deep hole of abyss. I take out my torch from the bag pack, and switch it on. The tiny rays coming from the transparent screen fill up the room with dim light, but enough to let me make out things. The upper portion of the school is a murky affair, with walls tainted with scraped off bits of cement, and the floor littered with unfinished buckets of paint.Dodging my way through the buckets strewn on the floor, I zigzag my way.
“Today I’ll finish the job, no matter what,” I beam.
I hoist my torch all around, and keep on doing it till I see some wires hanging loosely off a board. I walk there, and hold the torch with my mouth, careful to not let it slide inside. With the light sparking on the wires, I see three wires; two yellow and one red. I join a yellow with the single red wire, and seam them with the tape from my pocket. Once I am through, I put the wires inside the circuit box, and snap the switch down.
The whole area blasts with light, and I’ve to place a hand in front of my eyes to block it. Once my eyes are adjusted to the sudden array of light, I drop the torch down on the floor along with the bag lying there. I zip open the bag, and retrieve my ax, hammer, and a box full of nails. Carefully piling them on one another, I reach for the broken door, and crouch down to fix it.
“People can’t fix you?” I joke, rapping my finger on the fallen door. I straighten one of the hinges that have tilted towards the back of the door. I apply some force in my direction, and pull it until it’s facing me. Then I proceed to do the same with the hinge at the top, and when I am finally done, I straighten myself up, brushing off the dust from my trousers.
This time, I half bend, taking out some nails out, and holding a hammer in my left hand. When I’m in this position, I see a small stove sitting at one corner. It’s a dirty one, with its outside resembling the chipped off walls in the hallway. I immediately drop my weapons, and snap my body backwards. The stove is round in shape, with rusted corners. It doesn’t look American, but something Asian. I can tell that from the shape.
I stretch myself back, quelling a yawn, and pull my body sideways, wading away the grogginess. I kick the stove like a football is and it shakes mildly. I quietly laugh to myself, rumpling my hair as I do so.
Hitting me like a shock, the lights turn off, and then come again, repeating the pattern ten twenty times, till my eyes are sore, making me flop down on the floor. Suddenly, the lights blast again, though their brightness has multiplied and is scorching on my skin, singing in my eyes. I snap my eyes shut, rubbing my hands on them. I can’t believe them.
“Javier, you’ve been blasted. Laugh out loud,” a raspy voice shakes me out of my skin. With my butts still glued to the floor, I cock my head back. A white bedcover is flying in the air, waggling side to side, and cavorting up and down.
“Who…who…who are you?” My voice shakes, and I feel wetness in my underwear. Great, I’ve wetted my pants.
“The Stove witch, dude,” it replies, or rather she does. I strain my ears. The voice sounds familiar.
“The…the…stove witch?”
“Yeah, that’s me,” she laughs evilly. I look up and find two sockets at the top of the sheet. I tremble with fear; my throat gets blocked with a lump. I gulp down some saliva, but it doesn’t help. My heart’s pulsating hard, almost hurting in my ribcage.
“Lemme go,” I beg.
“No way. “
“Please?”
“No,” she laughs.
“Look, what do you want?”
“Your death.” Another evil laugh.
“Mine? Why?”
“Take the knife, and kill yourself.” A small knife slides out from her loose robe. “…or else, I’ll kill you myself.”
“WHAT? No, I won’t.”
“Then I’d be glad to do it,” she speaks sweetly.
“Why me?”
“You didn’t believe in me, right?” she says, sounding almost hurt.
My mind turns numb, pushing in a queasy feeling up my throat. I shake my head, and as my shaking aggravates, the distance between us reduces. She flies over me, laughing menacingly and dancing. I try to run, but it feels like my legs have been tied with a rope. I drag my body, but the fear has paralyzed it. There’s no option.
“I swear I didn’t plan this. Was just a joke,” I hear Chris. But I might be hearing things.
“Right, but he killed himself, you fool,” an angry voice, sounding familiar to the witch, rebukes.
“But...oh my! We should have been here earlier.”
“You got me into this, fool. I should’ve never agreed to it. You said it’s a prank,” she sobs. A strong hand punches my chest, and it starts burning more. I slowly open my eyes, and see a silver metal pierced down into my stomach.
I try to tell them what their joke did to me, but I can’t. I try to push away the flip-flop feeling in my stomach and soothe down the burning sensation it’s feeling, but I can’t. My throat burns, and I can feel my body flapping sideways.
And then…blank.
“Shits! He’s…gone, Monica.”
Monica, my wife? A coarse laugh resonates in my head. That evil witch! She thought it would be a good joke?
The blood which had been pounding in my ears hushes, gently flowing further away.
And then…silence.
