I had to write a chapter of a story each week for English class … but I didn’t. I couldn’t. My mind could not think of any story what-so-ever, BUT THAT’S ALL OVER NOW! I just sat down and wrote the first chapter, and I am quite happy with the way it turned out. I haven’t checked for spelling or grammar yet. I haven’t even reread it yet, but I could feel I’m on the right track. It’s only four weeks late, but here is chapter 1 of my story. Enjoy.
Lonely for no one (working title)
By: Nathan Moore
::: Chapter 1 :::
"Two-fifty! Two fifty! Do I hear two-fifty?" the auctionear rambled on, enthusiasticaly pointing towards people in the crowd whenever a bid was made, "Going once! Going twice! Sold, to the lady with the twitchy left eye for two-hundered and fifty dollars!" A vase made during the mid Tang dynasty ... or at least made to look it ... had been sold to an unsuspecing lady with spirratic facial muscles. Nothing that old could be sold so cheap without it being a fake -- which I could spot from a mile away.
I do have to admit, however, that even though counterfiet artifacts as such are readilly purchased, an auction still has that mysterious excitement to it -- what if something extrodinarilly rare and expensive does find its way onto the auction block? It would really be something to get one's hands upon a truely unique, and highly underappreciated, item. To find a sparkling gem within your very own possession is like having a child born and beautiful to you ... except there are no dipers. There is only the shear pride of owning something nobody else could have.
Perhaps I shall wonder upon a rarity. Perhaps another ruby fabrichet egg to add to my growing collection of oh-so-pretty shinny nick-nacks. "Idol trash," my brother would call them. Even so, seeing a room sparkle with dancing light and colors fills me with absolute aww. Perhaps these treasures do add to a certain level of anxiety -- wondering ifl they will still be safe in the morning -- I am still drawn towards collecting more. I need more. There is always something that catches my eye and screams out for me to own. This is the excitement of an auction.
"The next item up for bid is the title for the old Henderson estate, which is made up of his three-story mansion and eighty acres of forest land. Let's start the bidding at fifty-thousand dollars..." Fifty-thousand? This "mansion" must not be in the best condition. I do not know much about property values here in up-state, New York, but if I had to venture a guess then land is worth far, far more than this starting bid. I could only expect the price to soon sky-rocket as the bidding draws on.
I was concidering a place up here -- it really is a quite nice place to live. Plus I could be a little nearer to Samual -- as if living so close to my brother could be a good thing. Tension always seems to build between us as the end of my periodic week-long visits grow near. Sometimes I feel he is near the point of kicking me out on the streets. He says I am too careless with money and a finantial burden on him. Perhaps he is right. No, a home out here would never do. We simply need the space apart. I guess Seattle would forever be home to me.
"Fifty-thousand? Fifty-thousand? Do I hear fifty-thousand?" Hmmm... In all my years of auction-hopping I have never seen an item so stubborn for an oppening bid. Nearly a minute has passed and nobody jumped at this amazing opportunity? Now, a long time ago I have resolved that I should never be the oppening bid. It is better to observe those around the audiance -- to find who would be a threat and perdict how far they are willing to go ... but curiosity has got me in its grip. What could make people so weary to make a bid? What could be so wrong with such an innexpensive mansion, let alone eighty acres to accompany it? My hand went up before I had time to stop it.
"Thank you, man in the grey suit. Do we hear sixty-thousand, or will this plot of land be just given away?" Crud. I may be a little short... Not to worry, Samual will make up the difference -- he always does. Oh, this could be a once in a life-time opportunity to really make some money. How could Samual resist being a partner in such a buisiness venture. We could resell the land for five times what we payed. I glanced over at Samual sitting next to me and saw a distict look of shock on his face.
The auction drawn on into the evening. I had to sit on my hands to keep them from shooting up from time to time. I simply could not afford the estate if anything else had also been won. As it was Samual had a sharp glaring stare fixed on me for the rest of the night. I could see he was definately unhappy with my compulsive buy, even if it was quite a bargan. It was a steal. Unless that forest was radioactive, there could not possably be a way in losing.
The auction was over, and we were on our way back to Samual's place. My brother was congratulating me on such a great buy. "Idiot! How could you have done that? Tell me you did not just buy the Henderson estate!" And another round of drinks for everyone.
"It is an oppurtunity that comes only once in a lifetime," I tried to reason with him. "The land alone must be worth a several times more than what we paid. We could both profit from this. Listen to me."
"I'm listening. I hear what you are saying and I apollogise. You're not an idiot. You're a super, mondo idiot! Trying to make money off of the Henderson estate!"
Well, I think he may need a little more reassurance, "What? It's a good plan. All we have to do..."
"All you have to do is shut the heck up! You don't know what you are getting yourself into."
"No?" What was I getting into? The only thing I see myself getting into is another argument with my brother. At least he always waited to be on the road before venting steam.
"You cannot go there. You must never go there! You have to get rid of the land immediately."
"What? Without checking it out to get a good idea of what its worth? That's foolishness. I can't see why..."
"It may seem stupid to not have the land appraised, or whatever, but the Henderson estate is one of those places where people go in, but never come out. It's cursed ... or haunted," Samual's anger turned to sheer horror.
"Oh, please. You really are the most gullable man on Earth." I use to tell him lies as a joke, and he always believed me.
"The past five owners were found dead. Killed the moment they arived. Their deaths may have seemed like accidents, bookshelves falling on them and whatnot, but it is too much of a coincidance to actually be a coincidence. School children sometimes go in on a dare ... very few made it out alive. The ones who have escaped tell stories of glimpsing a fleeting white figure -- a ghost or spirit. You cannot go in there!" He was truly frightened for my safety.
"... Fine. I will not go." Ghost stories! So that is what's responsable for this nice low price. The whole town is scared of a haunted house. What a lucky day!
