Creative Writing Corner Lifestyle

Short Story: “Michelle”


Sara walked with her brothers, Tommy and David, to the next house. As they made their way to the staircase, Sara laid her finger on the button to the right of the door, letting out a loud ring. Footsteps made their way to the door and revealed a tall, thin woman.


          “What do we have here?” the woman asked, jumping for joy.

          She looked at the three kids, admiring Sara as a witch, Tommy as Dracula, and David as a zombie.

          She extended her hand, putting three Kit-Kat bars in their bags.

          “You know,” the woman said. “This house has been here for a long time. It has some very interesting stories. Do you want to come in and hear one?”

          “No thank you,” Sara responded.

          “I insist,” she said.

          “Come on,” David whined. “Mommy is with us. She will come in.”

The woman was at her kitchen counter while the three kids and their mother sat in the living room. The woman came back with four cups of apple cider.

          “Get comfortable,” she smiled, handing each the white mug filled with the classic Halloween beverage. “You’re in for a ride.”

          “Can this be quick?” the mother asked the woman. “My kids have to be in bed by eight.”

          “Won’t be long,” the woman smiled. Sitting back in an old, green chair, the woman started the story. “So, here’s how it goes…”

          At only ten years old, Michelle was spoiled, rude, and cared for nobody but herself.

          “Are you excited to go to this new house?” her mother, Marie, asked.

          “My room is the biggest, right?” Michelle asked.

          “Yes,” Marie sighed.


          The mother and daughter walked into their new home, and Marie smiled. Michelle sneered, saying, “It could be nicer.”

          “Well,” Marie said. “Maybe you’ll like your new school.”

          “School? Really?”

          As the day went by, Michelle got ready for bed, and dreamt of herself in a foggy place. “Hello?” she yelled.

          No answer came to her, but a sound of a woman humming made its way to her ears.

          “Helloooooo?” she yelled even louder.

          “Hello Michelle,” the voice responded.

          “Who are you?” Michelle asked. “Where are you?”

          “I want you to be a nice girl,” the voice said in an angry tone.

          As Michelle woke from her nightmare, she felt cranky and angry. As she walked to her mother, she said, “I don’t want to go to school today.”

          “You have to.”

          “Why?” Michelle whined. “I could have fun here.”

          “You don’t want to miss your first day.”

          “I don’t care.”

          “You’re going,” Marie smiled.

          “NO!” Michelle yelled. “I’m not having a good morning right now.”

          “Well,” Marie smiled. “You will be happy with your class today. Maybe you will have ten new friends by the end of the day. And don’t forget your chores when you get home.”

          “No!” she yelled. “I don’t want to!”

          “Michelle!” Marie said shocked. “I will not tolerate this behavior!”

          “Can I please not do chores today?” Michelle begged.

          “You have to,” Marie calmly said.

          “Fine,” Michelle whined. “After.”

          Michelle went to school that day, and everything was fine, until she heard another voice at lunch.

          “Will you be nice today?”

          “Who’s there?!” Michelle yelled.

          “Be nice, or you’ll have nobody.”

          Michelle didn’t know what she meant, but she understood later that day.

          “And so,” the woman said. “After coming home from school and finding her mother dead in front of her that day, Michelle lived the rest of her life alone, and she died not too long ago. People say she still walks around here today.”

          “Well,” said the mother, getting up. “Thanks for the Halloween story. But we have to go now. Come on kids.”

          “I hope you enjoyed it,” the woman smiled.

          Sara, David, and Tommy left with their bags with their mother following behind them. Before the mother could close the door, she looked at the woman, saying, “Thank you again, umm… I don’t think I have your name.”

          The woman chuckled.

          “Sorry,” she said. “My name is Michelle.”


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