February 19, 2008
By Christina Zirkle, Buckhannon, WV

Five children set out to fill their unused film. A few miles down the road was this spooky run down shack. They really did not know why they found it spooky, but they did and that was all they cared for. The roof of this shack was covered by a blooming weeping willow tree. Behind all this was a set of mountains, between them every day the sun would rise. When the sun would rise the valley would be full of pastel colors.

The beeping and buzzing went off in the children’s bedrooms at five thirty that morning. The children pulled their bikes out of their garages and met up at the local pharmacy. Above their head was a sign that read “Picklemen’s Pharmacy.” Genet, Mary, Lloyd, Raymee, and Suzan entered the pharmacy’s doors. Mr. Picklemen always wore suits and his mustache curled at the ends. He was tall and handsome, even though he was bald.

“Hello Mr. Picklemen, how are you on this very fine day?” Mary asked.

“Quite well, may I get you something Mary?”

“Actually . . . us, we would like to buy a roll of film.”

“Okay ten cents please.”
The children fished into all their belongings to find two cents each. Then they all put them onto the oak counter, except for Lloyd.
“Hey does anyone have a penny they could lend me?” Lloyd begged them.
Genet handed Lloyd a penny.
“Thanks,” Lloyd told her as he put his two pennies on the counter beside the others, “I owe you one!”

Mr. Picklemen handed them the film with his smooth hands. He also loaded the film into the large wooden camera for them. They once they left the pharmacy, they sprinted to their bikes, pushed them and hope on while running. It was five forty five and the sun was soon to rise. They had two miles till they arrived at the spooky little shack.

When they reached the edge of town, the sign said “You are now leaving Ivory village, please come back and bike again!” Now you can see why the kids were riding bikes. They continued out of town; and when they reached the shack they leaped off there bikes. They could see light coming from behind the mountains.

Nobody had lived in the shack for years. They were even too young to know when someone did live in it. They were about ten, some older, some younger. Raymee and Genet were brother and sister; they rarely ever got into fights. All the others were best friends, they never commenced in fights . . . until now.

“Hey give me that camera!”

“No it’s mine!”

“Maybe you should give it to me if you are going to fight about it!”

“No to me!”

All of the friends were yelling, punching, grasping for the camera, and falling to the ground. The time was now six o’clock and the sun was in between the mountains, a splendid picture, indeed. Little did they know somebody was lurking among them.

“Ahh wool lo wool la gi me!”
A seven foot three inch man threw open the maple door and made the shack sway back and forth. His face was unnoticeable. His whole body was covered with unruly brown hair. The hair had a tint of green; it was stringy and bounced when he ran. The man appeared to be a werewolf. He had gnats flying around him and dung beetles following his trail. He smelled of fish, cottage cheese, and burning sulfur.
This strange man came hurtling in the five children’s direction. All of his limbs were failing, and wait . . . wait! A silver/ copper blade appeared out of his hair; now a handle appeared too. It . . . it . . . was an a-a-a-AXE!!! A bizarre man with an axe was now twenty feet away, no one could help these powerless children! What were they to do?
All the children were shouting and pleading for help, but nobody was near them to come to their aid.
“Sha moo pa ki!”

He was now near ten feet away and he threw up his knee up and his arms down. CRACK!!!

He went scurrying to the children with an axe head in one hand and the axe handle in the other. He lobbed them both at the children, making them land two feet in front of the five children. Full-throttle, no time to stop now he raced to them, bent his knees, soared unto the axe blade and handle. He continuously jumped up and down on the axe.

“Laloo me ki ka dem!”
Puzzled but thinking about their lives the children ran back to their bikes. The fuzzy man started making new sounds, it sounded like crying. Raymee turned around and went to the fuzzy man.

“AHHHHHHHHH, Help he got me!” Raymee shouted to the group.
The fuzzy man clutched Raymee in his arms and . . . he children all took hold of sticks. They started running to the fuzzy man who stumbled back when they started to hit him. They hit him and hit him until he yelled out in horror.
“STOP!” Raymee shouted, “You are hurting him!”
“Yeah, you are hurting me!” the fuzzy guy boomed.
All five of the children sprung backward.

He put Raymee down and sprinted back to his house.

None of the children could understand what happened that day or why they did not die.

The truth is he was not just an ex-murderer he was an ex-axe-murderer.
When an axe-murderer kills and axe he must say his ritual words and that is why in the beginning of this story he was not talking English.

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