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This is a screen play that I had to create for creative writing back in high school and we were going to have to perform all this. Notes: Wesley was our teacher, and Lorenzo was the guy who I was teamed up with to do this project.



Person 1: Wow, this is gay

Person 2: Yea, so is Wesley

Person 1: Yea, let’s play a card game

Person 2: What game are we gonna play?

Person 1: YUGIOH!!!

Person 2: Awesome!

Person 2: Let’s make this interesting…if I win, you die, if you win, you can do what you want with me.

Person 1: It’s a deal.

(They Shake Hands)

(Brief randomness)

(Game gets underway)

Person 2: Let’s Duel!

(Throws down first card)

(Crazy sword fighting scene)

Random Guy: Wait! What was that?! (Camera Flashes Back To Us)

Person 1: I summon (random card name)

Person 2: HAHAHA! You fell right into my trap!

Person 1: Oh No!

Another Random Guy: What Flamers…

Person 2: O yes my friend, now I can summon my ultimate card!

Person 1: Nooo!!!

(I throw down the ultimate card)

Person 2: Your life points are drained! Ah Ha! I have won!

Person 1 (head in hands): God…No…

Person 2: Now you Die!

(A new guy runs up and punches Lorenzo in the face)

(Screen Fades To Black)

(The End flashes on screen on a piece of paper being brought closer and farther away from the camera)

Another person pops up: FLAWLESS VICTORY

(Fades out)

Written back in high school, and the cat thing was a joke between me and one of my asian friends, just turned it into strange story.



Green Monkey is what they used to call him. I asked the villagers why but they would never tell me. I spent many nights in the village studying the way they live when one night while I was sleeping something crept into my tent. Thinking it was Jomama, I smiled to myself. I began to undress when she bit me; I screamed and tore my arm away from her mouth. My arm burned and I could feel blood trickle slowly down my arm. She ran out of the tent, but when the moonlight shone on her, I realized it wasn’t Jomama, it was a monkey!



I went to the village’s doctor and when I showed him the wound he stumbled back in fear. I wondered why it was so frightening, had he never seen anyone bit by a monkey before? He stitches the wound then wrapped a leaf he used for healing around it so it would not get infected. He rushed me out of his small hut and closed the door. Immediately after the door shut I heard the song “Jeremiah was a Bullfrog” start playing loudly. All the villagers came out of their huts and saw me next to doctor’s door and then hurried back into their huts.



I rushed to my tent and zipped it up. Everyone was worried after they heard that song, maybe because it was such a corny song, but I doubted that because if I still liked to sway to the tune then so must everyone else. The next morning when I got out of my tent I noticed there was a large pile of logs, I was so happy because I though we were going to have a roast that night, but I never imagined what would actually take place.



That night they lit the huge bonfire, but in the center of it was a small green monkey, I licked my lips thinking how tasty it was going to be. I sat ther e watching them cook it, but when it started to go charcoal black they didn’t remove it. I asked one of the elders what was going on and she told me it as a ritual they did every time they heard “Jeremiah was a Bullfrog”. She told me that my new name was Green Monkey. I looked at her and asked if Green Monkey would be jealous, and she said I was Green Monkey.



Everyone seemed to avoid me more and more, and soon studying them was worthless so I packed up my stuff and went back to Sri Lanka. One night while I was eating my cat, I started to feel the scar, from where the monkey bit me, tingle and then it turned into a white-hot burning sensation. I stuck my arm under cold water, but that didn’t help. I grabbed a chunk of ice out of my freezer and put it on the scar. The scar still continued to burn white-hot and the ice did not cool it off at all. Soon my whole arm burned and then it spread everywhere else. I felt my hands start to shrink, and when I looked at them, they were the hands of a monkey! I started shrinking and soon I was taken over by this monkey side of me. The next morning I woke up on my table with the remains of Pussy beside me. I guessed that Pussy had eaten something really nasty and I must not have cooked him long enough.



I walked outside to get my newspaper and my neighbor gave me a mean look and yelled at me about my pet biting him and his family. I told him I just ate Pussy last night and he gave me an approving look. I went back into my home and took a crap while reading the paper as I did every morning. I cleaned up the mess I had made the previous night and then I got ready for that days work. I put on my favorite pajamas and then grabbed my nightcap and went to work. The doctors out the wires all over my head and told me to start working. I closed my eyes and fell asleep. When I woke up there was blood all over the floor, I called for the doctors, but they were not there. I get up and collect my pay and leave. I was happy with a job well done.



The next morning when I woke up and went outside and when my neighbor saw me he flipped his middle finger up. I said thanks for calling me number one and grabbed my paper and then proceeded to relieve my bowels. The paper’s headline was about people being bitten by a small green monkey and they could find whose monkey it was. I put my paper down and wiped my butt. I got up of my throne and looked at my crap. There were weird colored things in it, I wondered what they were, I was about to reach in and grab a piece of my waste when my phone rang. I went into the kitchen and answered it; it was my job, they told me I was fired, and when I asked why they told me that I was a horrible man.



In my moment of sadness I went to the pound and bought a hundred cats and kittens. I stuck all of them in the closet when I got home and kept one out. This time I shaved the cat and put it in the microwave so that would remove all the nasty stuff in and on the cat. After I took the cat out I put it in the oven and waited for it to finish cooking. I ate the cat in less than a minute after it was done, but I found myself still hungry. I took a couple more cats out and cooked them, but that did not satisfy my hunger. I ended up cooking all the cats and kittens, but even after eating them all I found myself still hungry.



I went back to the pound and bought ten dogs and when I got home I cooked them and ate them. They tasted weird compared to the cats, but at least they finally stopped my hunger. I fell asleep that night and when I woke I did my usually routine, the headline today was that there were a increasing number of green monkeys appearing through-out the city and there were even sightings of green monkeys in other cities as well. The scar in my arm started to burn and then I realized that the night the village had burned that monkey was because there was a new one. I, as the old woman had said, was the green monkey. I knew that I was the cause of all the new green monkeys, and now there were more of them than there probably had ever been.



I kept watching the paper the next few days and there were even sightings in other countries, even other continents! I cut off my scarred arm, hoping that would cure me, and stop all this madness but all that it did was hurt like hell. The police found my arm two weeks later in the trashcan after my neighbor had noticed that there was a growing stench coming from my arm. The police put me in a mental institution, but I was not in there long. Soon after I was released the monkeys started to take over the world, even though their monkey form was not permanent, there was a change in society. There were monkey bars around every corner and if you watch the monkey bars long enough you would see little green monkeys stumble out drunk. It was an amusing site, but one night while I was watching a monkey bar, this deranged green monkey tore a chuck out of my neck and I bled to death. The monkey forms soon were permanent and all around the world the monkeys were the supreme rulers, and all the rest of the humans that had managed to not turn into monkeys were soon used as their slaves!

The trip was too much for Happy; he had never done any drugs before. He should have started out with pills or eating some ganja filled brownies. If he would have known how bad this trip would go he would have. Happy’s older brother, Frown, had always told him that there were no such things as bad trips. Anytime you got a high it was a good trip.

It started off as a buzz, and then it was like nothing had happened, not until he stared seeing green walking walnuts and red kangaroos with razor-sharp teeth, in his room. Happy grabbed Frown and screamed at him telling him about the Green walking walnuts and the red kangaroos with razor-sharp teeth. Frown knocked Happy to the ground and walked away muttering what Happy thought were incantations. Happy thought everyone was against him. He found a bag an M&M’s and reached into the bag. He looked at the M&M’s and they had turned into cockroaches. He screamed and dropped the bag. When Happy tried to run down stairs they turned into quicksand. He ran over to the window and leaped out head first. Happy landed on the pavement unscathed, but a man in a rusting red pick-up speeding along the road and ran him over not a minute later. Happy had broken ribs, a broken left femur, two broken fibulas, and a crushed right foot. The doctors tried to fix his broken body, but Happy was too messed up. He had not felt the pain after he had been hit and he had tried to run away from the yellow submarine. He had caused his bones to become unfixable. They went out and told the family that he would not recover. They said that they understood and the doctors went back into the room. They came out and gave the family Happy’s last possession, his blue collar.

One of my best short stories to date





The screams were coming from the house across the street. Only I can hear them. Only I can hear the blood-curdling screams that could freeze the blood of any man. The terrified cries for help made me want to rush over there and rescue whoever it was, but I was terrified what might be in there. What could be making those terrible screams, those noises of Hell to my ears? The house across the street has been there since the mid nineteenth century. I, Jack Witenstein, have lived in my house across the street from that horrible house all my life. The sixteen years I have been alive have been terrifying. I have always heard the screams. The screams come at random times, and I never know when to expect them. When the screams start they don’t stop for hours, they seem endless. Sometimes I feel as if I am going crazy, and just when I start to feel sane, the screams start again. The screams seem to be more frequent at night and in the early mornings. The house has been abandoned since September 27th of 1990. Few people ever enter the house. The ones that do enter it leave quickly and never look back. Some of my friends say that the house is haunted, but I don’t believe in ghost. I believe ghosts are just figments of the imagination. I have refused to stay over night at the house in fear of whatever is making those horrid screams, but I am tired of my friends calling me names so I said I’d do it. They said that they would set the dated and tell me the next day. I was happy that I had time to get my nerves up. The next day they told me that tonight was the night that I had to do it. Today, October thirteenth of 2006, this thirteenth is not just a normal day, but today is Friday the thirteenth, the unluckiest day of the year. “WHAT!? Today, Friday the thirteenth, I don’t know.”

They started calling me names, like Jack’s a chicken and little pant pissing kid. I was so mad at that I agreed to do it tonight. School went by like a daze; I hardly noticed where I was.

When I arrived home my mother instantly noticed something was wrong and asked if I was all right. I said I was just tired from a long school day and I went up to my room. I packed some warm clothes, a flashlight, extra batteries, matches, and the stash of throwing stars, a hunting knife, my PSP with a few movies and games, and some junk food, in my satchel. I told my mom that I was going over to Derrick’s house for the night, and she said ok, but not to stay up too late playing video games. I promised her I would not, that I would see her tomorrow morning, and that I loved her.

I went outside and looked across the street at the ominous house. Right now, there were no screams coming from it, but I knew that later that night there would be the terrible screams that I have been hearing all my life. I was wondering what would happen, what really was making those blood-curdling screams? I didn’t really want to know, didn’t want to find out, but I had said that I was going to stay the night there and I am a man of my word.

I walked over to the houses lawn and I slowly walked up the creaky, splintered steps to the door. I stare at the door, fear slowly consuming me. Horrible thoughts filling my brain and all my thoughts. I reach out for the door handle, but the door opens by itself. I feel a cold breeze hit me as I look into the dark, moldy room. The smell of old, moldy and dusty boards fills the air and makes me sneeze. I take a step forward and pass through the threshold. There were stairs leading up to the second floor, but I decided to stay downstairs, at least until I was a bit more comfortable with the screaming house of Hell. I immediately take my flashlight out and turn it on. I shine it into the next room. I think it is a living room, but it could also be dining room. I walk slowly and carefully into the room. And notice right away that it was neither a living room nor a dining room, it was a kitchen. It was a very odd looking kitchen, there was an old wood stove in the corner, a small cot a few feet away from it, the hand-pump sink on the opposite wall from the stove, a door to the backyard, and a small round table in the center of it all. There were no windows on this side of the house, but I think nothing of it. Suddenly the screams start up, but this time they were different, they were all around me and much louder. I put my hands tightly over my ears, but they were no aid to the horrible screams. I felt a chill run down my spine and then a cold breeze pass by me. I looked around, but there was nothing there. The screaming stopped and I uncovered my ears, they were ringing.

I knew I had to find the source of the screams; I had to stop them. The screams from inside the house were the worst thing I have heard since Nsync. I went back into the front room. I took a good look around this time, and I saw two very dusty armchairs, they might have been leather but had been long eaten by moths and mice, a small T.V. that probably did not work anymore, and a Sony stereo system, which looked almost new. I wondered why there was a new stereo system in here when no one ever came in here. I just decide that one of the people that had tried to live here left it here when they were leaving in a hurry. I push the armchairs against the wall and a bunch of coach roaches run out from inside the chair. After that, I decided to not sleep that night, no matter where it was I laid down. I went into a room that was once a dining room. The old dirty, scratched up table was on its side as if it has been knocked over, and the some chairs were in different places around the room as if thrown, and other chairs were in pieces. I felt that there had been something bad happened in this room and by the way things looked something probably did happen. I cross the room to a door on the far side and I push it open, its rusty hinges squeaking as I push. The screams start again, but this time louder. I kept my ears covered, but nothing helped to block the terrible screams. I had kept thinking that the screams would stop soon, just like before, but they didn’t. They kept going; I took my fingers out of my ear because they were no help to muffle the sound. I go into the room and there are about six or seven cots around the room, I guessed this is where the original owners slept; I was looking around the room I saw there was a folded piece of paper tucked carefully under a pillow. It looked old; it could have been from when the original owners lived here. I walked over to the cot and sat down. The screams then seemed to get even louder. It was the loudest that I had ever heard them. I pushed my hands over my ears as tight as I could, but they still did not aid me. I took my hands from over my ears and tried to ignore the screams. I grabbed the folded paper from under the pillow and opened it. It said GET OUT!

I felt scared, why would someone write that? I knew the paper wasn’t new and by the way the ink was faded, that was not new either. The screams were not helping me think and a migraine was starting to pound. I wanted to get out of that horrible place, but I did not want to go to school to only be mocked. I was sure that more people than the small group of friends, which had dared me to stay the night in this creepy house, knew about me staying the night here. I was also absolutely sure that if I didn’t do it I would be the least liked kid in school, but if I did make it through the night, I would be the most like kid in school, the man, a hero, I would be their idol. I got up from the cot and put the piece of paper in my pocket; I went over to the door and grabbed the knob, some how the door had shut without me knowing it. I tried to turn the knob, but it would no turn, it was stuck, not as if it was locked; I knew it was not locked because it would not even jiggle. I was really scared, I felt like crying and I almost did. I tugged and tugged the knob and the finally door finally came flying open. I fell from the unexpected opening. As I had got up I rubbed my sore bum. I walked out of the room and back into the front room. There was one more place to look, upstairs. I looked up the slightly warped stairs and I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I decided that it wasn’t a bad feeling, but just the feeling of a fart building up. I clenched my muscles and tried to let out the fart, and after a few seconds the fart came out sounding like a bad note on a trumpet. I laughed at my own nastiness, it is always funny to fart, and for some reason it was entertaining to fart with no one around. The disgusting smell started to reach my nose so I started up the steps carefully; I walked really slowly to ensure that the stairs would not collapse under my weight. I noticed that the screams had stopped again; there was that eerie silence again.

I reached the top of the steps and stepped onto the landing without testing it to see if it was stable enough and my leg broke through. I felt the splinters pierce the skin and sharp edges of the broken boards rip through my jeans and rip open my skin. The blood trickled down my legs, soaking my jeans and staining them dark red; the pain had been horrible as I pulled it from the hole. I pulled myself past the hole carefully and examined the wound. I didn’t know much about wounds, but I knew that this was not something a band-aid could fix. I took off my shirt and wrapped it tightly around my wound to stop the bleeding. I got to my feet and limped to the nearest room. On the door there was a huge cross, I pushed the door open and found another bedroom, but this one was more luxurious than the last. There was one king sized bed, which was dusty and the covers were eaten by moths, and a big oak dresser that had chunks missing from it and holes from where mice had made their homes in it. There was a rocking chair by a boarded up window, so I limped over to it and sat down. My leg was throbbed and I felt the blood moving through my veins. I saw another piece of paper under the pillow; I limped over to the bed and grabbed the piece of paper. It said GET OUT OR DIE!

I felt scared again, why leave pieces of paper under pillows that said that? The writing on this one was still wet, but it did not look like ink. I don’t know how it would still be wet, I knew no one had been in the house while I was there, and the last time anyone was ever in the house was a long time ago. I crumpled the paper and threw it. There was no reason to worry, I thought. I limped out of the room and opened the door next to the bedroom. It was a bathroom; I guessed that it was the only one in the house. I thought it was odd that the only bathroom in the whole house was upstairs. I went in and looked in the cupboard for some gauze. I saw a black figure move past the doorway, and then I heard the door of the bedroom slam shut. The bathroom door then slammed shut, I was terrified. I pushed the door as hard as I could but it didn’t budge. I tried again and it still didn’t budge. I grabbed the knob and turn it and the door opened. I felt so dumb that I hadn’t done that in the first place.

I limped over to the bedroom door and opened it slightly; I peered through the small crack to see if anyone was in there. I didn’t see or hear anyone so I pushed the door all the way open and I saw there were footprints in the dust. I became terrified; someone had been in the room. I then realized that they were my footprints from when I was in the room, but I saw something else that scared me even worse than the footprints had. The pieced of paper I had crumpled was on the dresser and it was no longer crumpled. There was no explanation for this, there were no footsteps in the dust, and nothing else had been moved except for the paper. I felt a cold breeze, I could have explained that the doors had been shut by the air, but the paper could not have unfolded and been put on the dresser by the wind. I hobbled down the steps quickly; I grabbed my satchel and tried to open the front door. It was stuck I turned the knob and pulled with all my might. It would not come loose. I tried to yank it open again, but all my efforts were useless. I was frantic and I couldn’t think clear. I ran into the kitchen and tried that door; all it did was creak from the strain I was put on it. I decided to break down the front door. I rammed my shoulder into it with all my weight a few times and it still didn’t budge. After that I decided that I would break the windows out in the dining room. I limped into the dining room as fast as I could and grabbed a chair. I swung the chair with all my might into the window, but the chair only bounced off like the window was made of rubber. I dropped the chair and then pounded the window with my fist.

The window was made of glass, not rubber, but it didn’t break. I knew I was trapped and I couldn’t get out so I had lie down, put my knees to my chest and curled up into as tight of a ball as I could, doing that had made me feel safe, like the covers protected you from harm when a monster was after you. Thud, Thud, Thud, SLAM! I heard the footsteps and the door upstairs close. The thudding continued, slow coming ever closer, Thud, Thud, Thud. As I heard the footsteps approaching I curled up as tight as I could. I suddenly felt cold, and I had a heavy feeling in my body, I felt like I was going to pass out from the heaviness, and soon I did pass out. When I awoke I felt cold all over. I looked around and got up. I looked down as I was brushing dust from my jeans and then I saw something that I could not believe. I was still lying on floor, but I was awake, standing up. I could not explain it because I still didn’t believe that was really me lying on the floor. I tried to grab my satchel, only to have my hand pass right through it. I screamed louder than I ever had. Then I suddenly knew that the screams I have heard all my life were from people realizing the horror that had befallen. Now I joined the screams, now I was the sounds of Hell to someone else’s ears. I had joined the atrocities in the house, the other innocent children killed by the black figure, by the demon. I would walk around the evil house for all eternity.

COMMENTS

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LadyCara
01:12 Jun 25 2010

This is actually very good i think it could be stretched out with Jack going into more detail about the history of the house that he has figured out over the years by doing research i can see this being a movie. Very good read. I love the ending with the house stealing your soul.

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This is the preface to the book I have written, the only completed book. This is the book I am writing a sequel to.



Some would say this a story of tragic events, some would say that it is a heroic tale, but however you view this story, it is what it is. My name is Matt Lamar and I'm from a small town in Northern Indiana. This is my life story, or at least it once was. This is the story of how the normality of my life was altered. I’m about to tell you what happened to me and how it came to be. If you desire to know what happened to me, subsequently you’re going to have to read the story. It is to be said that some events are real, some characters are real people, and the plot line doesn’t fall too far from the truth. This tale of part truths may just explain many truths in which many never knew were truths. With this being said, enjoy the tale, and remember to expect what cannot be expected. Take caution or you'll end up in a coffin.

This is a new story I am writing, let me know what you think.







I’ve been to Hell and back. I’ve played Satan’s twisted game and twisted it more. I’ve defeated Satan’s minions and put out the flames of Hell…for good. The world I created for myself was supposed to be a Utopia. Evidently, I fucked up somewhere along the line. I simply left a flaw for the system to discover, an imperfection that makes some items rare, but this is not rare, it’s a loop hole of devastation. A black hole allows no matter to escape; it sucks life into it and turns it inside out. I’ve created such a flaw, an abomination.



Everything I had done in my previous life got me sent straight to Hell, well yanked is more like it. I thought I had everything planned out, I thought that had found the loop hole of devastation in Satan’s Utopia, but I was wrong, my mortal concepts of Hell were wrong. Lucifer refused my offer --- a grand one in my opinion --- of all the souls I had in my possession in exchange for me to regain redemption. At that point, I knew I had no other choice but to annihilate him, to obliterate Hell.



So I did exactly that, and it was no walk in the park. It took a century for me to kill his army and another two centuries to slay the devil, that tricky little bastard. Once the fires of Hell were extinguished, I was free to take the power for myself, but not for evil, for peace. I wanted to create a world where I could be happy, my own slice of Heaven if you will. See Hell is was just another Heaven, a warped version, as Lucifer was one perverse Angel. My Utopia was going to be spectacular, almost like Earth, but without any murders, greed, war, gluttony, stealing, or anything that would make it a horrid place. However, that’s not how it turned out. At first it was my own slice of Heaven, but something went horribly wrong, and I can only conclude is that my past conduct created the flaw. I believed creating this Utopia in Hells stead would save me from my evil ways.



I was 18 years old; I was just like any average joe. I was normal, except in one way. I had a talent, one that aided me in my crimes. A life of kleptomania is never a slow trot. Many times life is at a gallop and there is no saddle to lessen the rough ride. I stole anything and everything I could get my hands on, as long as it had some value.