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| Toiletpaper Massacre By Brian Yount |
| October 31, 2003
12:00 a.m. It had just turned midnight, the cool, bitter wind whistled through the branches of the trees. Stephen, Dean, and Wes looked up at the naked branches; their pupils expanded as the excitement of toilet papering grew deep inside their souls. All of them were sixteen, at the time. They always did the same thing every year, at the starting hour of Halloween. It was a fun game; pick a victim and toilet paper their trees, with at least 100 hundred rolls. It was tissue paper snow in October for one unlucky citizen. That year they picked the old man who lived on the corner of Elm and Haddonfield —Douglas Keene. If anyone stepped into his yard, he would run out with a chainsaw. Of course, there was no blade on it, but the effectiveness could not be out matched. Douglas was a scary looking old fellow. His eyes were big, but deep into the sockets of his skull. His face was scarred, appearing that he had been burnt early in his life. That may have been why he was so hostile towards the population of Bentley. The big Oak Tree in Douglas’s backyard was the first target for Dean. He threw a roll high and watched as it wrapped around a branch and came back to him. He was getting ready to toss it up again when he noticed something dark on the paper. He touched it and it was wet and sticky. “Hey Wes, bring your flashlight over here.,” Dean said. Wes was the only one smart enough to bring one. Stephen and Wes were busy working on a big apple tree, when they heard Dean call out. They finished the rolls they had in their hands before walking over to Dean. “What’s the matter, Dean?” Stephen asked. In a half worried voice Dean replied, “There is something on this roll man. I want to see what it is. Flash the light down on it.” Wes pointed the flashlight onto the roll. The lights made the substance shine. “It’s blood!!!” Wes yelled. Dean dropped the roll to the ground and it bounced off the freshly cutgrass. Something splashed on top of Wes’ head. He pointed the flashlight up into the tree to see where the drip had come from. The beam of light followed the trail of toilet paper that had been thrown up into it. High up was a horror none of them would ever forget. Douglas was hanging by his neck and his feet had been chopped off. Most of the blood must have been drained from his body, because only a few drops were falling at a time. Stephen puked. Wes pointed the flashlight at the grass this time. The ground beneath their feet had been stained red, and lying up against the tree trunk were two feet. Wes puked and Dean followed. This was not the fun night that boys had expected. Just then they heard the chainsaw. All three friends took off running and screaming as the engine of the saw got louder and closer. Two blocks later they made it to Stephen’s house. When they got into his home they were shocked to find both of his parents dead. Anne and Herbert were holding their heads. Barker, their dog, was hanging from a ceiling fan as it moved slowly around and around. Wes ran outside onto the porch and puked again. Dean began to panic, he ran to the phone so he could call his parents to check on them. The answering machine picked up. “Sorry, your parents are dead. You can leave a message but they will never get back to you.” He slammed the phone down and began to cry. Stephen was standing motionless, as he stared at the gory mess in his house. The phone rang, Dean picked it up, a distorted voice spoke, “ Listen close, if you want to save your friend Wes, you better come to the gymnasium at the middle school.” The person at the end of the line hung-up and Dean threw the cordless phone this time at the big picture window in the living room, it shattered and the phone fell to the ground outside. Dean knew he was going to have to go to the gymnasium by himself. Stephen was not going to go nowhere. He was frozen by the shock of it all. Someone had kidnapped Wes when he went outside. Dean was not about to let his friend die. So he left the house and ran to the school. The door of the school was wide open when he arrived. |