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One natural Sunday, my little siblings were sitting on our couch breaking one of our house rules once again, eating popsicles on the couch. They were more hyper than chocolate dipped in sugar. Popsicle juice flew everywhere and even got in my new curly wig.
I suddenly felt popsicle juice streak down my face. I looked upward curiously. It was the youngest of the little ones, smiling as if she wanted raspberry syrup dripping down my scalp and into my nostrils. I felt a surge of anger surpass me and I clawed the popsicle from her clammy palms and stepped on it with my new converse shoes.
She gave a forlorn look at the crushed treat, then loudly started sobbing. I called my parents, with no answer.
What the hell are they doing? I thought. They didn't go anywhere, did they?
After a long period of sulking and wondering, I trotted down the stairs and into the heated halls until I got to my parents' doorway. With my ear pressed against the door, I listened carefully, and I heard no sounds except for a faint scratching sound coming from their closet.
Worried, I shook the doorknob forcefully with my hand. Locked.
"MOM! DAD!" I shrieked louder than all of my siblings' wails combined. They probably dropped all of their popsicles. But I was more confused and afraid about my parents.
Just then, a knock came from my bedroom window. I ambled into the doorway next to my parents' and opened it.
There, an undead elderly woman with pale green skin and stringy olive hair gazed me with her blood red eyes, scratching my window with her incredibly long fingernails. She shone me a crooked smile with soiled brown teeth and some missing. The roots were hanging from her gums where missing teeth used to thrive.
I screamed at the top of my lungs and slammed the door with all the strength I could muster. Then, I felt a tingling sensation coming from my pocket. I slipped my hand in and peeked at my phone.
It was an unknown number.
Unaware, I 'hello'ed the strange telemarketer. But it wasn't a telemarketer. The crackled voice mustered a small speech of horror.
"Let's play a little game of hide and seek. I duct taped your brat of siblings' mouths shut and superglued their eyes closed. They are hiding each in one different closets out of the many in your mansion. I will count to two minutes. You have till' then to find your wretched toddlers around your filthy house!"
Then a crackled laugh faded and started counting..
I felt dread slither inside of my body and around me. I dashed up the stairs and kicked every door open I had found. I checked downstairs.
"One minute and fifty six seconds,"
I then heard a slight moaning sound coming from the bathroom.
Cautiously, I stepped slowly into the tiled floored bathroom and felt my feet stick to the linoleum. Terror had jittered through my body and my hands felt clammy. Before I could muster the strength to lift my toes, the same bruised lipped zombie was in the room and smiling.
I instantly let out a shrill of terror, and she frowned a nasty sneer, and pushed a gag ball into my mouth. Unsuccessfully attempting to scream, my feet lifted from the floor, and my body fell down near the sink.
Then she duct taped me to the wall and introduced herself.
The last words I thought I'd ever hear.
"My name is the Screaming Banshee. Now you have a few choices. Tell everyone you know who I am, and what I did to you. If they don't believe you, I'll haunt them too. But I will leave you safe and unharmed and I will grant you freedom if you do so. If you decide not to, I will use this knife,: -- Said as she plucked a pocketknife from her breastpocket -- "to cut out your intestines and make brockwrust out of them!"
I felt a shudder down my spine and then decided to say
"I'll help you."
She nodded, then her voice turned demonic as she screeched "Good work young one. Now I must depart. My portal should arrive in a moment."
But instead, a bright light blinded my eyes and the undead queen screamed calls of horror.
"No! Don't burn me master! Don't melt my wretched heart into flames! Please, I captured the children for your meal! No! Don't burn mee!"
She melted into a puddle of blood, pale skin, and stringy hair with her organs floating on top.
As soon as the police arrived (after my parents had called 9-1-1), they couldn't determine what had occurred in this house. All they could say was that as soon as they find their suspects, they could make a court order. I scolded them and told them it wasn't needed.
They untied me, then gave me a look of confusion. I ambled away from the room and whispered to them