• Join over 1.2 million students every month
  • Accelerate your learning by 29%
  • Unlimited access from just £6.99 per month

As a cool autumn breeze sweeps the dried, crispy leaves across my path, that day becomes so vivid again.

Extracts from this document...

Introduction

As a cool autumn breeze sweeps the dried, crispy leaves across my path, that day becomes so vivid again. It was long ago. We were about twelve then. Bumpy and I were inseparable. Friends to the end, we'd always say. Bumpy's real name was Kevin, a big, ruddy faced Irish kid, who'd earned the nickname with his nervous habit of repeatedly bumping into you as he stood and talked. Nevertheless, he was a good and loyal friend. Little did we know, that friendship would soon be tried and tested under the most unexpected of circumstances. The Wellington house was quite a fixture in our neighborhood. Located at the end of our quiet cul-de-sac, it stood in all its menacing, Gothic glory. It was huge and frightening, and the stories about it had haunted and entertained neighbors for many years. Folklore had it that the house's current sole occupant, Althea Wellington, had murdered six members of her family there, many years ago, long before any of our current neighbors had settled into this area. She had made the preposterous claim that a demon had manifested itself to her in the house and commanded her to carry out the gruesome crimes. Anyway, they say that she was found insane and spent some fifty years in an institution and was released, only to return to the house to live the life of a recluse, a morbid curiosity, an outcast of sorts. ...read more.

Middle

After three hard wraps and no answer, I must admit that I was relieved. We had gone further than any other kid in the neighborhood, but miraculously we were spared some horrible fate. Bumpy and I looked at each other and let out a simultaneous sigh. We turned towards the street, anticipating our coveted hero's welcome from the other kids when we stopped dead in our tracks at the creaky sound of the massive door opening. We turned around, my eyes almost closed in anticipation of what terrifying sight I was about to behold. To our utter shock and surprise, we were greeted by the sweetest looking, most pleasant little old lady one could imagine. Slight and petite, she wore her graying hair in a neat bun and in a lovely, soft voice, she apologized for the delay in answering the door, as she slipped packets of candy, so eloquently into our shopping bags. She had introduced herself as Althea Wellington and assured us that there were no strange goings on in her home, contrary to the stories that had gone around for years. We likewise introduced ourselves, and pleasantly surprised, enjoyed a brief, friendly conversation with her. We thanked her, and respectfully excused ourselves as she retreated back into her home. ...read more.

Conclusion

By nightfall, we had come to terms with the incident, or at least we thought so. We had decided not to tell anyone of what we had witnessed. After all, we were forbidden to set foot anywhere near that house and the story would surely get back to our folks. It was better left unsaid, a terrifying tale untold. It surely would change us, and I know I'd never look back on my childhood without it looming there, bigger than life. True to our word, Bumpy and I cruised through our teen years and into adulthood without telling a soul. So many years have passed since that day. I still see Bumpy when we get the free time between juggling our careers and families. He prefers to be called Kevin now. And when this time of year comes around and we're sitting alone in some pub sipping a quiet beer, we find ourselves back on that porch on that Halloween night. The Wellington house is gone now. Torn down a few years back. A small shopping mall sits there now. I guess progress doesn't care about legends and folklore, or old haunted houses. I walk by there sometimes when I'm around the old neighborhood. As a cool autumn breeze sweeps the dried, crispy leaves across my path, I want to tell a tale that is better left untold. The End ...read more.

The above preview is unformatted text

This student written piece of work is one of many that can be found in our GCSE Writing to Inform, Explain and Describe section.

Found what you're looking for?

  • Start learning 29% faster today
  • 150,000+ documents available
  • Just £6.99 a month

Not the one? Search for your essay title...
  • Join over 1.2 million students every month
  • Accelerate your learning by 29%
  • Unlimited access from just £6.99 per month

See related essaysSee related essays

Related GCSE Writing to Inform, Explain and Describe essays

  1. The Haunted House

    I couldn't help but laugh as I pulled him out effortlessly. I went to the bathroom as Marco made his way downstairs. They had started unpacking all the cases of stuff from the boot of the car. When I arrived downstairs, Tina was placing the food into the refrigerator and

  2. The Silent Witness?

    Though my brain continued to tell me that for Rob's sake, I was doing right. A sudden drowsiness came over me. Once again I found myself trapped in the mist. That strong, menacing laugh around me! 'No!!!!' the grim frail hand once more reached out, the laughter echoed, surrounding me in an even tighter loop.

  1. Memories are made of this. A cool breeze flits across my face. I ...

    That summer saw the goings of many things. The stillness of night broke with the shouting and screaming that grew louder and louder. I would lie awake on my pillow, feeling the warm breeze tickle over me, wishing for the anger to cool, and the yelling to finally stop.

  2. Heart of Autumn

    Breathe in, breathe out. I pulled on my red high-waist pencil skirt and a white blouse and looked in the mirror. Not bad, I thought to myself and sat down on my dresser to apply make-up. Eyeshadow? I decided against wearing eyeshadow, to give me a sense of simplicity with a hint of sophistication.

  1. The Juggling Balls

    'Just another way for people to bully me' sulked Jenny as she laid head on the table and closed her eyes. She could not think of what to do, Juggling was what first came to mind, but she rejected the idea immediately, remembering how bad she was at it.

  2. All was quiet in the forest apart from the rustle of leaves being whisked ...

    He was generally flying over Germany, dropping bombs and shooting other planes down and occasionally flying into other countries to drop a couple of bombs on them. Flying over Germany was how he ended up in this situation. Laying there trying to recover from the shock of the impact.

  1. Cinderella, a modern tale.

    the housework, knowing that they would all add extras to her already massive load in an attempt to stop her going. What she would wear hadn't even crossed her mind yet. Saturday morning came. Cindy got up extra early so that she could get an early start on her usual

  2. A Cruel Twist of Fate

    He wanted to say sorry to her but he feared he blew things with her so he went on holiday to New York. What he didn't know was that Sara was also there. Sara went to New York as she decided she needed a holiday to clear her head.

  • Over 160,000 pieces
    of student written work
  • Annotated by
    experienced teachers
  • Ideas and feedback to
    improve your own work