100 Unfortunate Days Read Online Free Page B
Author: Penelope Crowe
every day.
Seven years from the day the jar is sealed the hair turns into snakes. The person who owns the jar has two options. Option one: release the snakes. They will slither away to find any person who has wounded you, bite them, and kill them. Option two: open the jar and place one grain of sugar inside. This makes the snakes sleep forever, but the water in the jar is now as potent as the poison of the snake and you can use it at your own discretion and have the joy of watching your victim die. It’s important to note that the snakes know what you are planning and they will try to bite and kill you first. This happened to my mother’s aunt—and they said she died from falling and hitting the back of her head on the wooden floor.
Day 22
There are certain people who stare at the stars. Sometimes the pull of the moon affects their eyes and their once blue irises turn into big glittery black coins. If they stare at you too long, you know they hate you.
Day 23
Once there was a little girl. She went into her grandmother’s special cabinet and took out all the scarves. Some were bright pink with gold coins sewn to them, some were square and some were rectangular, one had the bright eyes of many foxes, but all were silk. She knew the scarves were magic, and she brought them outside with a basket of clothes pins. She hung the scarves on the weeping willow tree in the back yard all around the low-hanging outside branches, and formed a beautiful house with windows and a big door that opened and closed.
As she clipped the last pin to the last scarf the house filled with gold furniture, and the fox jumped off the scarf and became her pet. She could hear music in her head and could light fire with her fingertips. She looked up into the night sky and she knew how old the stars were. Her eyes were the clear green of the ocean and she did not have to blink. She knew all the languages of the world, and as she lay on the ground the earth swallowed her. It held her as she slept and in the morning she left her scarf house with the fox and went in to the woods. She took her pocket knife and carved her name in a tree that grew the wood that would someday form her coffin. She cut her hand on the knife and her blood dropped on the ground.
A crow flew down from the sky and landed at her feet near the blood. “Go home,” it said and flew away. She followed a trail of poisonous mushrooms deeper into the woods and fell to her knees at the sight of the moon in the distance. She closed her eyes and went home to her silk house. Her parents missed her very much, and her grandmother was not even mad anymore that she played with her scarves without asking. But she did not know this, and she did not miss them. She cut the lemon tart that was her breakfast and picked raspberries from the bush next to the weeping willow tree. One day she missed her parents and she went home, but they did not know her…she was not a little girl any more.
Day 24
When I was little I wanted to go through the haunted house on the boardwalk. My parents agreed and bought my ticket, strapped me into the car and waved and smiled and told me to have fun.
The cart moved on its own and pushed open the doors. It was pitch dark and a severed head screamed past me in the black light and I wondered how my parents could let me in here by myself. I closed my eyes and listened to the screams and moans and wondered if I would ever come out again. I could hear the mechanics of the ride under my car, and I knew that my fate rested in the chains and gears that were moving beneath me. I was thrilled.
I felt the strings that were spider webs brush my face, and could see the strobe light flashing bright red through my closed lids. I quickly peeked and saw Dracula down a long hallway waiting for me near the ceiling. I could see the light through the doors in the distance and I knew I only had one more moment of terrible fear and wonderful freedom. There was another haunted ride
Seven years from the day the jar is sealed the hair turns into snakes. The person who owns the jar has two options. Option one: release the snakes. They will slither away to find any person who has wounded you, bite them, and kill them. Option two: open the jar and place one grain of sugar inside. This makes the snakes sleep forever, but the water in the jar is now as potent as the poison of the snake and you can use it at your own discretion and have the joy of watching your victim die. It’s important to note that the snakes know what you are planning and they will try to bite and kill you first. This happened to my mother’s aunt—and they said she died from falling and hitting the back of her head on the wooden floor.
Day 22
There are certain people who stare at the stars. Sometimes the pull of the moon affects their eyes and their once blue irises turn into big glittery black coins. If they stare at you too long, you know they hate you.
Day 23
Once there was a little girl. She went into her grandmother’s special cabinet and took out all the scarves. Some were bright pink with gold coins sewn to them, some were square and some were rectangular, one had the bright eyes of many foxes, but all were silk. She knew the scarves were magic, and she brought them outside with a basket of clothes pins. She hung the scarves on the weeping willow tree in the back yard all around the low-hanging outside branches, and formed a beautiful house with windows and a big door that opened and closed.
As she clipped the last pin to the last scarf the house filled with gold furniture, and the fox jumped off the scarf and became her pet. She could hear music in her head and could light fire with her fingertips. She looked up into the night sky and she knew how old the stars were. Her eyes were the clear green of the ocean and she did not have to blink. She knew all the languages of the world, and as she lay on the ground the earth swallowed her. It held her as she slept and in the morning she left her scarf house with the fox and went in to the woods. She took her pocket knife and carved her name in a tree that grew the wood that would someday form her coffin. She cut her hand on the knife and her blood dropped on the ground.
A crow flew down from the sky and landed at her feet near the blood. “Go home,” it said and flew away. She followed a trail of poisonous mushrooms deeper into the woods and fell to her knees at the sight of the moon in the distance. She closed her eyes and went home to her silk house. Her parents missed her very much, and her grandmother was not even mad anymore that she played with her scarves without asking. But she did not know this, and she did not miss them. She cut the lemon tart that was her breakfast and picked raspberries from the bush next to the weeping willow tree. One day she missed her parents and she went home, but they did not know her…she was not a little girl any more.
Day 24
When I was little I wanted to go through the haunted house on the boardwalk. My parents agreed and bought my ticket, strapped me into the car and waved and smiled and told me to have fun.
The cart moved on its own and pushed open the doors. It was pitch dark and a severed head screamed past me in the black light and I wondered how my parents could let me in here by myself. I closed my eyes and listened to the screams and moans and wondered if I would ever come out again. I could hear the mechanics of the ride under my car, and I knew that my fate rested in the chains and gears that were moving beneath me. I was thrilled.
I felt the strings that were spider webs brush my face, and could see the strobe light flashing bright red through my closed lids. I quickly peeked and saw Dracula down a long hallway waiting for me near the ceiling. I could see the light through the doors in the distance and I knew I only had one more moment of terrible fear and wonderful freedom. There was another haunted ride
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