s r e t i r w t Ghos 2026
READ ON … IF YOU DARE!
The Anniston Star received more than 500 entries in our 37th annual Halloween story contest for kids. The winning stories tell of a mysterious plane crash, a haunted mirror, a mad scientist, a monster in the cotton field … and more.
PHOTO ILLUSTRATION BY JESSICA AKRIDGE/CONSOLIDATED PUBLISHING
Beware the zombie crawfish … and the ghost of the angry lunch lady! My favorite Halloween tradition is reading through the hundreds of scary stories that kids write for our annual Ghostwriters contest. This year, creepy clowns were out, and mysterious disappearances were in. There were also a surprising number of stories involving pigs. Oink, oink. Here are some of my favorite details from this LISA year’s entries. DAVIS Best monster: In “The Man in the Suit” by Adigun Campbell, 12, Williams Intermediate School, a man hired to play Godzilla in a movie merges with the rubber costume, eventually transforming into a 345-foot tall monster. Best zombie: One pinch from a zombie crawfish and “boom, you grow claws, shrink down to crawfish-size, and start to
hunt.” — “The Zombie Crawfish” by Rex Manning, 12, Jacksonville High School. Best ghost: Why do the kids’ lunches keep disappearing? Turns out it’s the angry ghost of an old lunch lady named Brenda, upset that the kids never like her food. — “The Haunted Lunchroom” by Zaphyra Satterwhite, 11, Williams Intermediate. Best villain: An AI app decides that it would like a body of its own. Specifically, a human body. — “The Glitch in Lyra” by Zion Fairwell, 12, Oxford Middle School. They’d like to speak to the manager: On a neighborhood street, several young girls are kidnapped by a group of Karens, who want to use them as slaves. — “The Karens on My Street” by Dacie Turk, 12, Williams Intermediate. Best death: “The creature drained him like a juice box, making him look like a raisin.” — “The Final Gambit” by Joseph Henderson, 11, The Donoho School. Most refreshing plot twist: In “Mystery on the Line” by Mar’Yana Perkins, 12, Saks
High School, the creepy phone calls are just … somebody’s big brother making prank calls. Sparkliest plot twist: A girl attacked by a skinwalker realizes the monster is actually kinda cute, so she takes it home, pops a tiara onto its head, paints its long claws bright pink, dresses it in a pink, glittery dress and names it Cupcake — “proving that even the scariest monsters just need a little love (and a fabulous outfit).” — “A Sparkly Night at the Cemetery” by Sapphire Devine, 12, Saks High School. Best social commentary: A man saves a little boy from walking into traffic, only to realize the boy’s mother is a famous TikTokker who was busy streaming her life as her kid almost died. — “The Man Who Saved Halloween” by Hunter Honea, 12, Walter Wellborn High School. Grisliest discovery: In “The Shed” by Tillie Hough, 12, Walter Wellborn High School, a search party finds a shed containing “rows upon rows of organs labeled with
names and dates.” Best haunted object: An old Nintendo Switch sucks players into a neverending game in “A Weir … Wonderful Game” by Kaylan Walker, 9, Coldwater Elementary. Best last line: “I realized whoever just appeared from the water, that’s not my sister Nia anymore.” — “The Forbidden Bridge” by Jakhiya King, 11, Williams Intermediate. Best insight: “Every time he’d run it was like a loop. Loop after loop after loop. It felt eternal. He came to realize that the only way out was for him to fight through his fears.” — “The Thing” by Major Miller, 12, Oxford Middle School. Most sensible ending: In “The Man in the Photo” by Davis Martin, 12, Walter Wellborn High School, a man discovers a mysterious photo of a person who seems to be moving closer each day — so he promptly sets the photo on fire. Sign up for Lisa Davis’ email newsletter at HomelandInsecurity.info. Email her at lisa.kestler. davis@gmail.com.
Elementary Division 1st place
2nd place
3rd place
‘THE GHOST FLIGHT’
‘THE GIRL THAT WASN’T AFRAID’
‘HAUNTED MUSEUM’
The airplane shuddered after takeoff on Halloween night. Noah and Mateo had just gotten their drinks from the flight attendant. It was a stormy evening in Miami, Florida. Noah and Mateo were going to see their families in the Bahamas. Noah felt like something was off about the flight, but he ignored it. Mateo was looking out the window Noah Newton, when the lightning started 9, The Donoho to flash. School When the flight attendant passed out drinks, Noah noticed that she looked scared. Then the windows shattered and a black figure appeared. The airplane started to shudder again and then started banking to the left. The oxygen level was so low that passengers were passing out, and the black figure turned unconscious people to ash. Noah and Mateo unbuckled and made their way to the cockpit, barely conscious. Without getting turned to ash, they both got there. Noah and Mateo were so motion sick they both threw up in their Halloween buckets. Then they made it into the cockpit and Noah looked to the chairs. There was no pilot or copilot. The black figure had turned the copilot and pilot to ash. The airplane flew into a nose dive. Noah grabbed the cockpit door, and Mateo grabbed Noah’s foot. “The autopilot just turned off!” Noah shouted. Noah pulled himself into the cockpit. Mateo thought Noah could fly the airplane because Noah had an airplane back home, but Noah did not know how to fly it. Noah grabbed the microphone and screamed “Brace for impact!” as they crashed into the ocean. Noah and Mateo survived. They were floating on the airplane’s door. Noah saw a sandbar. But then Noah got pulled in by something. Noah screamed as he slipped under the water. Noah heard screaming under water, but it wasn’t Mateo or himself. It was the creature pulling Noah under water. But what was it? Mateo was panicking. He thought Noah was getting attacked by a shark. There was no blood. Noah thought this was the end of his life, but then the creature let go. Noah, swimming as fast as he could, sucking water down his throat, finally gasped for air, and Mateo was so excited to see Noah. A day later, Mateo saw a Coast Guard helicopter. Mateo shouted “HELP HELP!!!” The helicopter saw them and dropped a basket for them to get in to get in the helicopter. Noah and Mateo got in and they were carried over the ocean. It was clear. Finally, Noah and Mateo saw land. But it wasn’t the Bahamas or Miami. It was morning now, and the fog had just rolled in. Mateo said, “We were probably flying over a deserted island,” but then the helicopter’s blades broke off by hitting a flock of birds. Noah and Mateo went down with the helicopter, never to be seen again. People say it’s just a fairy tale or it’s just a story to scare children, but Noah and Mateo’s families know it’s not.
Jessie wasn’t scared of anything. Not even the creepy monsters she loved drawing. One night, Jessie was drawing in her sketchbook when something strange happened. She had drawn a girl trapped inside a cracked mirror. But now the girl was banging on the glass, and her hand was bleeding. Jessie froze. She hadn’t drawn that part. Suddenly, she noticed something behind her. It was a really tall, bald creature wearing a black suit. Its head was enormous, and its Kenidi Cantrell, 10, mouth hung open like a giant black hole. Golden Springs A pair of scissors appeared beside her. JesElementary sie grabbed them, but somehow they ended up inside her drawing. The girl in the mirror started cutting something Jessie couldn’t see. The monster screamed. Then a door flew open. Jessie’s family was standing there, even her dog and cat! She ran toward them, but the monster begged her to come back. When she turned around, the monster was gone. In its place stood a little boy, crying. He told Jessie he’d been trapped ever since he drew a picture of his family and they disappeared. Jessie decided to help him escape. They walked through doors and climbed staircases for hours. But every staircase led to another door, and every door led to more stairs. They were going in circles! Then they saw a tall black creature with one giant glowing eye. Jessie touched a strange shadow, and it turned into ash. The boy disappeared. Jessie kept walking until she found a white door with a bright light behind it. She could hear her family calling her. But suddenly, the boy came back. “Don’t go!” he shouted. Jessie’s sketchbook appeared. Every page was blank except one completely black page. Then words started appearing on her hand. DON’T TRUST THE BOY. Jessie stared at him. The boy started laughing. He told Jessie her family didn’t want her anymore. He even told her she was dead and needed to walk into the light. But Jessie didn’t believe him. Then she remembered something. When she was 4, she had drawn an imaginary friend. A little boy. Him. “You’re lying!” Jessie shouted. “That light will trap me forever!” The boy’s body twisted and grew until he became a giant monster. “GO!” he screamed. Jessie’s sketchbook fell from his hands. She grabbed it and found a cross between the pages, with words underneath. “You came from me. You don’t control me. You don’t scare me anymore!” The monster started cracking. “You have no power over me!” Suddenly, he shattered into pieces. Everything went black. Jessie woke up in her bedroom with her family and pets around her. Her sketchbook was completely empty. But later that night, she heard scratching. She opened it. There was a drawing of a smiling little boy. Underneath it said: THANK YOU, FRIEND.
Once upon a time in a creepy museum far away, two friends conquered the unpredictable museum. But this was no ordinary museum, because at night, when the grandWillow Malone, father clock 10, Coldwater strikes 12, Elementary the dolls come alive! First, it all began in a cabin that was dark and quiet. In fact, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. In the cabin sat two little boys, Henry and Luke. The boys had always wondered what would happen if they dared to enter the museum. The question was, what secrets lay beneath the heavy steel doors? So one day the boys were playing outside and a piece of paper fell from the sky. The boys looked at it and saw it was a map to the museum. They stared at the map in shock. The next day they got their map and set off. Hours had passed and they were deep in the forest and started to hear giggling. They followed the sound that led them to the museum. The heavy door creaked open and the boys stepped inside. All of a sudden the door slammed. BOOM! The lights flickered and they saw a long shelf with a lot of porcelain dolls lined up in perfect order. Suddenly they heard footsteps and looked away for a split second and saw nothing, so they looked back. All the dolls were lined up in front of the boys’ feet. Henry swears he saw one of the dolls blink! Suddenly the clock struck 12 and the dolls’ eyes turned a bright red. Before the boys could react, the dolls started to move and the boys looked up and saw a doll hanging from the windowsill! They were so scared and headed for the door, but it was locked! A faint girl’s voice said, “You might not wanna do that, hehe. I’d think again.” Suddenly the dolls lunged at the boys. They tried to escape, but the dolls started attacking them. The dolls started levitating in the air. The dolls’ magic hands slowly trapped Henry and Luke’s souls inside the doll bodies. Henry and Luke were never seen again.
HONORABLE MENTION and turned him into a monster! The next day, Peter and Scarlett went to school like usual. After school, they had a bad feeling the mad sciIt was a couple of days before Halloween. Jack, Peter entist took Jack, because last night they saw flickering and Scarlett were at school. When they got out of school, lights at the abandoned science lab. Jack decided to walk a different way than Peter and ScarThey hopped in their car. They headed to the abanlett, because he saw some flickdoned science lab and went inside. Peter’s heart was ering light at the abandoned pounding and Scarlett was shaking. They opened up a science lab. He told Peter and door and got a big shock. Jack was sitting in a chair and Scarlett not to follow him. He he was a monster. walked into the abandoned They ran out of the room and called the cops. When science lab and pushed a door open and there the mad scien- the cops arrived, they took the mad scientist to prison. They were going to take Jack the monster to a lab and tist was. experiment on him, but they realized he was a nice For some strange reason, Jack did not show up at school monster. Peter and Scarlett were glad to have their Adeline Walker, the next day. After school, friend back. 9, White Plains Peter and Scarlett went to his That night they went trick-or-treating, and Jack did Elementary house and rang the doorbell. not have to dress up. His mom opened the door and Peter and Scarlett asked Jack’s mom where he was. His mom said he had disappeared. They looked worried, so they jumped in their car and went to the police station and told them what ‘STUCK IN THE CORN MAZE’ happened. The police officers said they could put some flyers out, but that was the best they could do. Late that evening at the abandoned science lab, there Landon and I were driving until we heard a little girl lay Jack, unconcious on a table, and the mad scientist screaming for help!!! Landon and I went to check it out. was behind him. The mad scientist put Jack in a capsule As soon as we entered the corn maze we heard running. ‘THE MAD SCIENTIST’
We started running and then we stopped to catch our breath. I heard some chomping noises behind me. LANDON WAS EATEN. I started running, but then I felt a gooey hand touch my shoulder. I tried to run a little bit more, but it was too late. LANDON AND I WERE NEVER SEEN AGAIN. The police came to find the missing people. They sent in one officer but then he never came out. The president got involved so he sent three helicopters to go there, and the three helicopters soon crashed. They were never seen again Wyatt Robinson, either. 9, White Plains The president became suspiElementary cious so he sent 10000000000 000000000000000000000000000 000 nuclear bombs over there. It kinda worked, but five hours later people saw things at their door every night. As soon as one guy tried to check outside, he was never seen again. Until … the goo goo wanted to step in but he got boomsicked, but someone went behind the monster and killed it with an emerald bullet. Then everyone was safe. BUT THE PEOPLE WERE NEVER SEEN AGAIN!!!!!
VECTEEZY
Middle School Division 1st place
2nd place
3rd place
‘STARWHISKERS’
‘MIDNIGHT HOOVES’
‘THE SHADOW IN THE COTTON’
I always found children’s fear entertaining. There was something satisfying about watching their faces break into tears while I got to have the rest of the night to myself. Babysitting has become less of a job and more of a private game, really. “We won’t be back until 12. His bedtime is at 8:30, so don’t let him have any treats before then,” said Serenity Darby, 13, Mrs. Clarkson, smoothJacksonville High ing down her dress. I gave School her my smile, wrapping an arm around Caine as they walked out the door. Dealing with a 7-year-old should be easy enough. Caine continues on, walking to the fridge and gazing at the options of food. “All right, Caine, it’s time to go to bed, or the Marsh Man will get you,” I say, shutting the fridge as I fight the grin growing on my face. “Marsh Man? That stupid — ” I interrupt Caine. “Stupid, no, no. He comes out when kids are awake past their bedtime. He knocks at the door three times, and if you aren’t in bed by then, well … ” I say with a sigh. Caine holds a raggedy fox plush animal close to his chest. I signal Nathan, my boyfriend, to begin the first knock. “Did you hear that? … Maybe it was just the wind,” I say to Caine, pacing anxiously to set the mood. KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK erupts from the door. I usher Caine upstairs and he listens with whimpers. I let out a quiet giggle. I open the front door for Nathan and he falls onto the couch. “All to ourselves, baby,” Nathan says with a satisfied sigh. I go back upstairs to check on Caine. He better be asleep by now. “Starwhiskers doesn’t like liars,” Caine says, emerging from his bedroom. I scoff. “Is Starwhiskers your imaginary friend?” Caine’s face falls into a fit of anger. Every light in the house shuts off. “Hey, who turned the lights off?” Nathan shouts from the living room. Silence echoes through the house for a moment. A scream breaks through the barrier of silence. “Nathan?!” I yell for assurance. Caine must be pulling a prank. I run down the stairs in a panic. The lights flicker back on. Blooming red words coat the white walls. “Starwhiskers doesn’t like tricks. How would you like one?” My phone flickers in my hand, showing every photo I’ve taken of every kid I’ve babysat. Their fear-stricken faces. “Adeline, we’re home!” Mrs. Clarkson says. The words suddenly disappear. I circle around in confusion before I put my act together. “H-How was your night?” Unexpectedly, a different child walks downstairs, a coughing little boy. “There’s Michael! How are you? Are you feeling any better?” said Mr. Clarkson. “Michael? Where’s Caine?” I say, looking around the room. “Caine? Who’s that?” Mrs. Clarkson responds, a look of concern plaguing her face. “No, no. I was told I was babysitting a little boy named Caine, I — ” My phone dings. One new message. “No one likes liars, Adeline.”
The midnight air was thick. Emanuel hurried down the desolate road, his boots kicking up dust. The factory has closed, leaving him with empty pockets and a sick mother. Desperation clawed at his chest. He closed his eyes, whispering a bitter prayer for a miracle. A sudden chill swept over the path, silencing the crickets. The Victoria Escobedo, heavy thud of approach11, Williams ing hooves echoed against Intermediate School the canyon walls. Emanuel froze. From the shadows emerged a towering figure mounted upon a massive black stallion. The rider wore an immaculate black charro suit. Silver embroidery snaked along the seams, and silver buttons glinted like predatory eyes under the moonlight. A wide sombrero cast a deep shadow over his face, hiding his features. This was El Charro Negro, collector of desperate souls. The phantom horseman pulled his mount to a halt. The stallion snorted, exhaling smoke. “You called for fortune,” a voice echoed like grinding stones. A skeletal hand holding a heavy leather pouch emerged from the black sleeve. Gold coins clinked inside. “Take it, and your miseries will vanish.” Emanuel stared at the pouch, his heart hammering violently. He knew the legends and the terrible price of the Charro’s gifts. Yet the thought of his mother dying in poverty blinded his judgment. Trembling, Emanuel reached out and grasped the bag. It was shockingly heavy, burning with unnatural heat. “A wise choice,” the Charro whispered, chilling amusement twisting his voice. “We shall meet again very soon, Emanuel.” With a sharp pull of the reins, the specter vanished into the darkness, leaving only the scent of ash. Emanuel rushed home, his mind racing. He burst through the door and dumped the pouch onto the wooden table. Golden coins spilled out, filling the dim room with dazzling brilliance. He laughed aloud with pure relief. They were saved. But as the clock struck 3, a violent wind slammed against the house. The candle flickered and died, plunging the room into darkness. The air turned freezing cold, and the scent of sulfur drifted through the window. Thud. Thud. Thud. Heavy boots echoed on the porch. The door slowly creaked open. Standing in the doorway was the silhouette of the wide sombrero. “Time to pay, Emanuel,” the voice hissed. Emanuel scrambled backward, knocking over a chair. “No! Take it back!” he screamed, gesturing toward the table. But the gold was gone. In its place sat a pile of smoking ash and decaying human bones. Emanuel gasped, his blood running cold. The Charro stepped into the room. Under the sombrero, two crimson embers glinted in the darkness. Emanuel tried to move, but a supernatural chill rooted him to the spot. The phantom gestured, and a wave of darkness washed over the room, claiming Emanuel’s soul to fulfill the bargain. The next morning, the village elders found the house empty. There was no sign of Emanuel, only a pair of scorched hoofprints burned into the floorboards. Emanuel had become another eternal rider in the Charro’s phantom entourage.
It all started on a Saturday night in late October. My parents had gone out to dinner, leaving me home alone. I was just chilling in the living room, scrolling on my phone. Our house sits right on the edge of a massive cotton field. At night, when the wind blows, the white crops look like a million tiny hands waving in the dark. Around 9 o’clock, the Braylee Johnson, power went out, plunging 13, Wellborn High the house into total pitch School blackness. My heart immediately started pounding. I used my phone flashlight to look out the window, and that’s when I saw it. A figure was standing in the field. It was way too tall — maybe 7 feet — with arms hanging past its knees. It didn’t walk; it glided smoothly, straight toward our backyard. Panicking, I ran to lock the back sliding glass door. Just as I reached it, my flashlight beam caught something right outside. Two milky white eyes with no pupils were pressed flat against the glass. It had no nose, just two bloody slit nostrils, and a wide, toothless mouth stretched into a horrific smile. It began to tap on the glass with long, black fingernails. Click. Click. Click. Suddenly, the tapping stopped. With a horrific, splintering screech, its long fingers sliced right through the thick glass pane like scissors through paper. I screamed and sprinted down the hallway into my bedroom, slamming and locking the door. I dove under my blankets, pulling them over my head. Downstairs, I heard a wet, scratching noise climbing up the hallway walls, and then directly onto the ceiling. It was crawling like a spider. Skitter. Skitter. Skitter. The scratching stopped right above my bedroom door. Then came a sickening crunch as the wood around the lock splintered. The door slowly creaked open. The room grew freezing cold, smelling like rotten meat and copper. I held my breath under the blanket. I heard a heavy, wet drop land on top of my comforter. Drip. It was drooling on me from the ceiling right above my bed. My phone buzzed. A text from my mom read: “Just pulling into the driveway, honey! Why are all the lights off?” Before I could move, the blanket was violently ripped away. The creature loomed over me, its freezing grip locking my arms in place. Its wide, toothless mouth opened, and it whispered in a perfect, chilling mimicry of my mom’s voice: “Let’s go greet them.” The creature’s features began to shift and blur, melting and reshaping like wet clay. Right before my eyes, its terrifying face smoothed out, adapting and molding itself until it perfectly mirrored my own reflection. It stood up, wearing my face, my expression, and my clothes, leaving me paralyzed with fear in the shadows. Downstairs, the front door clicked open, and my actual mom’s voice called out, “Hello? Sweetie, we’re home!” The lookalike turned toward the hallway, practiced a flawless imitation of my smile, and began to walk down the stairs.
HONORABLE MENTION imaginary friend.” He hesitates. “You called him Asher, perhaps.” Ace stares at the man. “Yes, but how did you know that? I have never told anyone.” One night, Ace’s mother, Angelina, is putting him to “Well, you see, you may think I was simply a thing in sleep. “Come on, Ace,” she murmurs. “Let’s go to sleep. your imagination, but the thing is, I’m real,” the man It’s your first day of middle school tomorrow.” She starts laughs. “It was me who you saw in the corner of your to lead him to his room but room today, ” he says. “It’s me. I’m Asher,” he exclaims. he then stops at his door. “No, “How is this possible though?” Ace thinks to himself. Mom, don’t go in there.” She “I must be dreaming. ” Ace pinches himself hoping to turns to him, annoyed. “What’s wake up, and for this to all just be a dream. the matter, Ace?” “The man in He can’t. This, in fact, isn’t a dream. The man busts the corner, he doesn’t want you out into laughter when he sees Ace do this. “You really to come into the room.” thought that would work?” he asks. “I’m real, and I am “What are you talking about here to take you with me, ” he says. “Join me in paradise?” Ace?” she asks. He then points to the left corner of the room, Elizabeth close to the foot of the bed. Pegasina, 13, The There’s nothing there. Donoho School “Ace, honey, there’s nothing ‘CLOWN DETECTIVE’ there. It’s your imagination.” He still refuses to go to the room. She then walks in the “I dare you,” Chloe had said earlier that evening, snaproom and turns on the bright light. “Look, Ace, no one is ping her gum with an aggressive smirk. “Go to the old here. You might have just seen a shadow.” fairway. Word is they have a new attraction: a clown He shakes his head no, but then still agrees to get that stands 10 feet tall. Bring into bed, thinking it was just him imagining someback proof, or you’re paything. “Now go to sleep and stop fooling around,” she ing for everyone’s dinner for a demands. “OK, Mom, but just don’t close the door,” he month.” whispers. “OK, Ace,” she says, rolling her eyes. Now, standing at the rusted After that, she leaves the door cracked open and iron gates, I questioned my leaves. Ace then tries to close his eyes, but the next thing financial priorities. The carhe knows he is awoken by a bright light in his face. He is nival was a graveyard of peelstartled and opens his eyes. “Who is it?” he asks, jolting ing paint and deflated prizes. up in bed. Shadows stretched unnaturally He then sees a giant glowing triangle in front of him. under the moonlight as I crept Yahir Guzman, It was glowing such a bright color that the human eye 13, Williams past a rusty Ferris wheel. can’t even look at it. Eventually, a tall, pure black, silhouIntermediate That’s when I heard it. A ette-looking shadow of a man with hollow circles for strange, mechanical whireyes emerges out of the triangle. ring sound, completely out of place for a rusty carnival. “Ace, I know you remember me,” the man whispers. Whirr-click. Whirr-click. “I don’t think I do,” Ace says, his voice shaking. The I rounded the corner of a run-down funhouse and man chuckles. “Oh Ace, let me reintroduce myself, for froze. I might not look the same way I used to.” He pauses. Towering over a stall of knocked-over milk bottles “Remember back when you were around 5 years old, stood the clown. It was easily 10 feet tall, in an oversized you were a lonesome kid, so you made yourself an jumpsuit. Its face was in a thick, pale layer of white face ‘IS HE REAL OR IMAGINARY?’
paint that looked less like makeup and more like a gallon of heavy-duty sunblock. It stared blankly out into the empty park, its unblinking eyes completely hollow. “Hey! Big guy!” I called out, my voice trembling slightly. The giant clown slowly pivoted. The whirr-click sound echoed loudly. Instead of chasing me or throwing a cream pie, it opened its mouth and spoke in an oddly flat, robotic cadence. “Hello. Thank you for connecting. Please accept our updated terms of service to continue your carnival experience.” “What?” I muttered, taking a step back. “Your data safety is our priority,” the giant clown droned, stepping forward on massive, disproportionate legs that creaked like hydraulic stilts. “We are optimizing your engagement metrics.” It reached out a massive, gloved hand. Panic surged, but so did pure adrenaline. I wasn’t going to lose this bet. Ducking under its slow, mechanical sweep, I grabbed a thick bundle of heavy-duty hemp rope sitting by an old tent stake. I bolted around its oversized ankles, weaving the rope tightly around its hidden metal stilts. The clown blinked slowly, its programming seemingly unable to process a physical ambush. “Error,” it droned. “Unusual traffic detected.” With one final, aggressive yank of the rope, I secured the knot. The top-heavy, 10-foot monstrosity lost its balance and came crashing down into a patch of weeds with a loud, metallic THUD. It lay there, pinned and securely tied up, its legs twitching weakly as the internal servos whined in protest. “Let’s see who you really are,” I breathed, stepping up to the giant, fake-looking mask. I grabbed the edge of the rubber wig and pulled hard. The massive clown mask popped loose, revealing a much smaller, perfectly ordinary human head inside the neck mechanism of the giant suit. The man had short, cropped hair, a completely blank expression, and pale wide eyes that stared directly at me. It’s Mark Zuckerberg? What is he doing here, a multi-million-dollar company, in a rundown carnival?
High School Division 1st place
2nd place
3rd place
‘THE LOST STATION’
‘THE BECKONING’
‘DON’T REPAIR THE MIRROR’
I hate driving at night, especially on Highway 431. Once the streetlights fade, the Alabama woods close in, and fog rolling off Cheaha Mountain turns the pine trees into jagged, suffocating shadows. It was close to midnight, and my eyes strained against the dark as my dim headlights bled into the gray mist. On a night like this, the isolation feels heavy, Kenzi Paradeis, almost physical. Desper17, Pell City High ate to break the silence and School stay awake, I reached out and turned on the radio, twisting the dial, trying to find a station. But nothing was playing. No music, no late-night talk shows. Just a wall of low, rhythmic static hummed through the dashboard speakers like a slow, metallic pulse, making it even eerier. The static grew louder with every passing second. I was about to turn the radio off again when a piercing whine cut through the speakers. I jolted up, and after the whining quit, a steady voice came through. The voice started naming case numbers, names, and dates that were weirdly in the future. “What’s going on?” I thought. I tried to turn the radio off multiple times, but every time I tried, it increasingly got louder. I pulled over at Prichard’s Gas Station and Deli and turned my car off so the music would stop. The radio kept playing. … At this point, I am terrified. I tried to get out of my car, but the doors would not unlock. Then the voice lists a different case number … 387, Brynleigh Phillips, October 31st, 2026. … I whip my head around towards the radio. “Why did they just say my name and today’s date?” The voice deepens as it starts listing oddly specific details about what is happening in the area I am in. Static comes back for a second, then it cuts to a sound. … “Is that my car?” The radio repeats what I say. My eyes widen, and I start checking my surroundings, my rearview mirror. I look back at the radio and notice something. A video of me in the present is playing. I check the rearview again. A dark silhouette sits in my back seat. I scream as hands come from around the headrest and strangle me. I try to fight back and hit them, but my hands pass through theirs. “Please — let — this — be — a dream … ” I say, struggling to breathe. The hands suddenly disappear, and I gasp for air as the color comes back to my face. The video playing on my radio screen changes to another person. … “Mikayla?” I say, worried. She does the same thing I did: She checks her surroundings, then the rearview mirror. That’s when it happens; the silhouette appears and strangles her. This time, when she fights back, the silhouette turns human, and she breaks away. “How in the … ?” Just then, my phone rings; it’s an unknown number. “I’m coming back for you … ” The line cuts out, and all the streetlights go out. Everything goes dark; the silence is deafening.
The mysterious song rang in my ears like a long lost friend. As I walked out of my room, I felt the bile rise in my throat. The wooden floor creaked like a warning. The voices were toying with me. I had only made it to the kitchen, then it started. I was in a trance. I no longer had control. I was begging Sadie Walton, 14, my body to stop movJacksonville High ing, but my brain gave School in. Then I turned on the stove. My hand, burdened by the weight of the voices, lowered on the burner with reluctance. The smell of my burning skin was more fulfilling than I could ever imagine. The volume of the voices was getting louder. I needed to get to them. I scrambled to the back door. I slipped. I tasted blood. My teeth rattled. I felt no pain. I was running out of time. My body shot up in my bed. I felt my skin sticking to my bed sheets. It was freezing all of a sudden. My skin prickled with goose bumps. I looked at the clock. 2:13 AM. I pushed my hair away from my face and tried to go back to sleep, thinking I was imagining it. As my body sank into the mattress, I heard it again. A faint voice singing eerily. My blood pooled with fear and curiosity. Something in my brain had been altered. I stood up. When my bare feet touched the wooden floor, icy shards pumped through my veins. My breath felt like it was ripped out of my lungs. I took a shaky breath. I kept going. The voices were pounding now, like a hammer to my head. I pulled my hair to feel relief, but I was just left with a clump of it in my hand. The voices were hurting and healing me at the same time. My scream was so loud my voice cracked. I felt a smile form across my face. I have never felt this satisfied. These voices that made me want to claw out my ears, now hugged me in a sweet embrace. I finally made it outside. As I stumbled through the yard, my feet were bloody from briars. I was floating. My body was electric. The cold breeze kissed my skin. The voices were begging me to find them. I was the chosen one. So, I skipped into the forest infested with darkness, humming their familiar melody. I felt the anticipation in the pit of my stomach. Then I saw it, the most ethereal site I’ve ever laid my eyes on. There was a fire. The smoke stung my lungs. Around it there were creatures smiling at me lovingly. I smiled back. When I walked closer they sunk into the ground. Their voices were everything to me. They beckoned me to follow … so I did.
The uncanny valley: the theory that something looking just a bit off can stir up fear or disgust in a person. The theory is most commonly observed in humanoid things — robots, realistic AI-generated portraits, and, in this case … one’s reflection. The cautionary tale centers on a broken mirror that appears three days before Halloween in a random spot in the woods on the edge of Madelyn Penny, a college town. If you find it 17, Jacksonville and repair the glass, rumor High School has it that the reflection is never quite right: an eye askew, teeth too white, a neck too short. After people see the mirror, they’re never the same, both inside and out, as if their bodies adjusted to fit the mirror’s image. At a college Halloween party, we were all sharing silly ghost stories. One student that had grown up in the town shared the tale of the mirror. Being obsessed with haunted objects, James, my boyfriend at the time, made it his goal to find it. He begged me to go along with him, but since I needed to study — and I get scared easily — I politely declined. I wish now that I had stopped him from going altogether. Four days after the party, I went over to his apartment after not hearing from him. I used the spare key he’d given me to let myself in, and upon seeing me, he shouted and threatened to call the cops. It was as if he’d never even met me. We broke up, and he started to cut off all his friends too, leaving us all confused and concerned. When the end of October came around again, I was determined to find out what happened the night James went into the woods. The night of the mirror’s appearance, I made my way through the forest to search for the rumored anomaly. After an hour of looking, I found it. Leaned up against a tree was a shattered mirror within a chipped and rusted copper frame. Reluctantly, I put on the gloves I’d brought, piecing the mirror’s glass back together. When I finished, I got a good look at my reflection. It was as if someone had recreated my appearance from a blurry photograph: my eyes were the wrong color, and my nose was too thin. I inched closer, trying to point out each flaw that the mirror had created. My heart raced; was this even me? I didn’t even realize that I’d begun pressing my body against the surface, as if the mirror was pulling me in … … because it was. Before I knew it, I was on the other side of the glass, still looking at my uncanny reflection. It wasn’t my reflection anymore. I beat against the glass, begging and pleading to be let out. The copy on the other side let a tear roll down its face. “I didn’t want it to be you. I didn’t mean for it to be you. Why did you have to come looking for me?”
HONORABLE MENTION ‘THE ANGELS’
the angels were there, filling the quiet sky, like the trumpets, meant to warn of the end. every night, they were there i sat, waiting for them. i should have seen the warnings, i should have seen the signs.
Morgan Moran, 15, Lincoln High School
the angels, harbingers of the end, prophets of judgment day, had been warning. i did not yet know, but they were warning me.
i stayed, waiting for them, waiting for my comfort. they did not come. i saw what should not exist, what should not be seen. the face of god, one that should not be worn. that night, so long ago, i made my final mistake. i lay down my head, closed my eyes. i heard their words, that night so long ago. words that weren’t words, voices that weren’t human. i wasn’t supposed to hear it.
god was here, empty yet deafening. no longer do i hear the angels, no longer do i look to the skies, no longer do i look up, no longer do i believe in mercy. i look down, watching, praying, begging to any god that is real, that i was the last. the last to see god, the last to become void, the last to join the angels.
‘PECULIAR PINESVILLE’
Life in Pinesville couldn’t have been more normal. Until the disappearances began. A local teen was reported missing on a dull Wednesday afternoon. He wasn’t found. The case was dropped, as he was suspected of running away. Then a beloved octogenarian disappeared from the Pinesville Senior Community Home. She was never found, either. Hannah Jack, 15, These events set the small Pell City High town on edge. After all, PinesSchool ville was peaceful, completely ordinary. The next week, an economics teacher sat at his desk while the children sat idly in detention. Then he vanished into thin air. The students sat back in their seats and stared in shock. The clock read 3:33. It was Tuesday. The next week, a delivery driver disappeared
mid-route. Same time, same day. Panic ensued. Families started leaving town left and right. Anything to get out before the next Tuesday. Announcements begged townspeople not to leave, but it was all in vain. The hysterical masses could not be reasoned with. Pinesville’s population dropped drastically from the fear. Eventually, things calmed. People moved back into their homes. The disappearances slowed to once every month, then once every year. But one thing stayed the same. It was always 3:33, on a Tuesday. These mysterious vanishings became a regular part of life for the people living in Pinesville. They adapted their lives to this phenomenon. Two mayors were elected, in case one might vanish. Products were sold guaranteeing that you wouldn’t disappear if you purchased them. Some people simply left town on Tuesdays in hopes to avoid being the universe’s next victim. In all other aspects, life went on. Everything in Pinesville was perfectly acceptable. Until one day, nearly three decades after the first vanishing, two people disappeared instead of only one. A mourning ceremony was held as usual, though the crowd was filled with thinly veiled unease, not their usual grief. As heartfelt words were uttered by the loved ones of those who’d disappeared, townspeople whispered anxiously. What did this mean for them? Who would be next? Three people were gone the following Tuesday. Four, the next. People fled Pinesville as quickly as they could. More and more disappeared every week, a repeat of what had first begun years ago. It was nightmarish for those who had endured the first round of vanishings. The population dwindled to only a few hundred, and there was fear that the town would be abandoned completely within the next month. The mayor and those on the town council did their best to calm citizens and put a stop to the affair. But soon, they’d vanished too. It was complete and utter chaos. Pinesville was shut down and left behind for good. Buildings fell into ruin and nature overtook the town. The once lively town was all but forgotten. Only one person chose to remember.
To view haunted artwork submissions visit www.annistonstar.com/publications
VECTEEZY
TWISTED TALENT
Spooky artwork from local young artists
Emma Tunnell, 15, Pell City High School
Andrew Carroll, 12, Oxford Middle School
Written by Jakayla Morgan
DON’T DON’T ANSWER
Ann Marsh, 10, Donoho Lower School
Jakayla Morgan, 15, Jacksonville High School
Ryilan Truss, 12, Oxford Middle School
Risden Lewis, 13, Jacksonville High School
Barry Allen Baldwin, 11, Williams Intermediate
Bayleigh Hilburn, 12, Williams Intermediate
Brooke Price, 12, Williams Intermediate
Kadence Daniels, 16, Pell City High School
Dacie Turk, 12, Williams Intermediate
Kylee Otterson, 11, Williams Intermediate
Justin Martin, 12, Williams Intermediate
Maddie Ashcraft, 12, Williams Intermediate
Mia Santoro, 12, Williams Intermediate
Montrelon Pilate, 12, Williams Intermediate
Presley Scott, 12, Williams Intermediate
Walker Peoples, 11, Williams Intermediate
Morgan Sudsberry, 18, Pell City High School
Nate Cato, 16, Pell City High School
Rex Manning, 12, Jacksonville High School
Reagan Cato, 11, Williams Intermediate
Marlee Speer, 12, Williams Intermediate
Noah Newton, 9, Donoho Lower School
Tyus Boyle, 11, Williams Intermediate
Zoey Dye, 11, Williams Intermediate
U O Y E E S N E XT Y E AR . . .
PHOTO ILLUSTRATION BY JESSICA AKRIDGE/CONSOLIDATED PUBLISHING