All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
Edward Fester scampered down the laboratory's hallways, a single ruddy light barely illuminating
them. Cold, empty darkness engulfed Fester as he bristled on, preparing for the doctor's next
order. Every footstep echoed for what seemed like an eternity.
Peering through the pitch-black, he spotted the doctor's room and shuffled to its entrance.
Cringing at the thought of disturbing him and evoking his wrath, Fester shuddered weakly. As
discreet as he could, he creaked the door open with pale, skeletal hands.
'Come in, Fester!'
Fester sighed in relief. The doctor is in a good mood.
'This is it, Fester! The moment I've been waiting for!' Dr. Emil Himmler laughed with
anticipatory glee. His gloves were covered in an oozing green slime.
'Wha-what is it, doctor?' Fester stuttered.
'What do you think, you fool? What have I been working on for the last year? Your ignorance is
astounding! I have created the cure for cancer, and you ask me what I am doing?' Dr. Himmler's
face was a crimson red.
'Of-of course, doctor.' Fester stared at the ground, his back arched and shoulders hunched. He
stood trembling, his frail body appearing to convulse in fear. Seeing this, the doctor's rage
'Now, tell the pilot to deliver this antidote directly to the government medical labs for testing,
not stopping anywhere. This is imperative.' Dr. Himmler leaned in closer. 'This could be a
malicious chemical. It cannot be exposed to the public.'
'Ye-yes doctor,' Fester nodded.
'Alright then.' Rubbing his chin meticulously, the doctor appeared to be submersed in deep
thought. 'Also, tell the pilot not to leave today, as there are storms imminent. Tomorrow is a
'I-I will not fail, doctor.'
'Good. Do it quickly.'
Scurrying back into the eerily quiet hallways, darkness consumed him once more. Alone with only his
thoughts, he reflected on what the doctor had told him. All he could see was Dr. Himmler's
vicious fury. Fester quickly shook his head to rid himself of such images as he reached the vast
blast door to the outside.
Pressing the activation code with bony fingers, the door slowly groaned open. The small airplane sat
on the runway, its engine barely humming. The pilot approached Fester.
'What did the doctor tell ya, boy?' The pilot looked at the coveted doctor's aide, his
dislike of him thinly disguised. That's just dandy, sending some frail twit to brief me.
'He-he said to deliver the ant-antidote to the government medical la-labs.'
'When did he say to go?'
'He-he said'he-he said'' Panic gripped Fester. Frantically, he tried to remember. Well,
the doctor said to do it quickly'
'Out with it, boy!' The pilot became increasingly frustrated.
'He-he said to do it today.'
'BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!'
An arm shot out from underneath the covers and smacked the alarm clock off the nightstand. It fell
With a prolonged yawn, Holly Bates sat up. Lazily rubbing her eyes, she stumbled out of her bed and
trudged into the shower, not unlike a zombie.
After her shower, she put on her clothes and smiled. It's Saturday! She pulled back her blonde
hair, and her stomach rumbled. Time to eat.
Holly descended the stairs to find her dad already making breakfast. Her Labrador, Lucky, came down
the stairs with her. She stroked his head.
'Morning, Princess!' Her dad gave a wide grin.
'Dad, I told you not to call me princess anymore. I'm sixteen!' Holly dumped some cereal
into her bowl.
'I forgot how you're too cool for nicknames,' Mr. Bates replied, not even bothering to
disguise his sarcasm.
'Sure, dad,' Holly said as she poured her milk.
'Hey, have you checked the news? They're saying a plane ploughed into the woods behind your
Holly raised an eyebrow. Yeah right.
'I'm serious. Look at the television.' Her dad gestured towards their living room.
Holly got up, still somewhat suspicious, and peered around the corner to peek at the TV. Sure
enough, images of a crashed plane were cycling through.
'Dad, that's not even a mile from here!'
'I know. It's kind of scary.' Mr. Bates began rifling through the weekend newspaper.
'Dad, I'm going to hang out with Joey. His house is only a block away.'
'Sure princess. Be back by six.'
Holly grabbed a coat and stepped outside. She shivered. I hate living in Michigan. Strolling down
her sidewalk, she saw her seventy-year-old neighbor, Mrs. Granger, walking her two big Rottweilers.
She seemed to be struggling with them. Nevertheless, Holly wanted to say hello. 'Hi Mrs.
'Oh! Hello, Holly! I can't really (oomph) talk right now, these dogs are (oomph) acting quite
strangely today.' Mrs. Granger was clearly fighting for control over them.
'Oh. That is strange. Your dogs are the best trained dogs on the block.' Holly looked down at
the two dogs.
Staring back at her, they immediately stopped in their tracks.
A snarl emerged on their lips, and a drool of green slime plopped onto the pavement.
'Okay, I'll be going.' Holly, frightened, kept walking towards Joey's house, albeit at a
slightly faster pace. Thoughts raced through her head. What's with those dogs? They look rabid!
Once she reached Joey's house, she quickly rang the doorbell.
A tall, muscular teenager in a striped black and white jersey answered the door.
'Hi Joey! Why are you in your baseball uniform? It's kind of tacky.' Holly grinned, letting
him know it was a joke.
Joey smiled and waved her in. 'Holly, I have a baseball game in an hour. Give me a break!'
Joey laughed. He leaned on his bat, flexing his fingers around its base.
Holly was still shocked by what she had seen earlier. 'Hey, where are your dogs?'
'Why do you want to know?' Joey seemed puzzled.
'Mrs. Granger's dogs were acting strange, so I wanted to know if you're dogs were okay.'
'In fact, I don't know where my dogs are.' Joey shrugged.
Holly and Joey turned around.
In the kitchen, a Doberman was glaring menacingly at both of them.
It slobbered green slime.
'Ba-bad dog! Bad Rex!' Joey voice wavered.
The Doberman brought Joey down, and clamped his huge jaws around Joeys throat. To Holly's
complete horror, Rex bit.
Rex turned towards her, his mouth dripping red.
Closing her eyes and grabbing Joey's bat, she swung it wildly, out of pure primal instinct.
She heard a crack, a whimper, and then everything was silent.
Reluctantly, Holly opened her eyes.
Around her was a seen of absolute carnage. Blood was everywhere, pooling into the recesses of the
floor. She glanced down. A single thought crossed her mind.
Holly kneeled down next to her friend; his face was caked in his own blood. She checked his pulse.
There was none.
Tears openly flowed down her face, and she sat down, crying.
Then she remembered that Joey had two dogs.
Holly swung the door open, and practically jumped outside. Slamming it shut, she ran down the
Outside, it was a bloodbath. Owners were running away from their own now rabid dogs, and
frantically getting into their cars. Some weren't so lucky.
As she sprinted home, Holly spotted two Rottweilers hunched over something, tearing at whatever it
was savagely. Realization hit.
Her stomach lurched, and she held back the extreme urge to vomit.
Running up her steps, Holly hurled herself at her door and turned the handle, expecting the worst.
Come on dad, please be there.
'Are you okay?' Her dad cried as he embraced his daughter. 'I'm so glad you're here!
I've been outside! Where are the police?'
Mr. Bates looked at what his daughter was clamping in her hand. 'Why are you holding a baseball
Holly looked down at her hand.
She still had the bat.
'Dad, where's Lucky?' Holly clenched her fists until they were white. Mr. Bates' eyes
widened. 'Give me that bat,' he said, snatching it from her iron grip and he stepped down the
stairs into the basement.
Ten long minutes passed.
'Dad? Da-ad?' Holly walked down the steps.
This will certify that the above work is completely original, Andre Racanelli.