Содержание. Часть 2 > Английский язык
Halloween Stories
Sergevna:
The Legend of Bride's Head BridgeShort Halloween Childrens Story
There's a bridge near Hanover in Germany called 'Der Kopf der Braut', which means bride's head. A 15th century legend has it that Reichsgraf von Kesselstatt and his bride Gretchen were approaching the bridge in their horse and carriage when their way was blocked by an elderly crone.
The Reichsgraf or 'Count' ordered the old lady to get off the bridge instantly and make way for their carriage. But it was dark, and the old lady had difficulty in herding her sheep off the bridge.
Because the old witch was moving none to fast, Reichsgraf von Kesselstatt took his whip and have her a sound thrashing. Bleeding, and cowering in a ditch, the old witch put a curse on the carriage. Consequently when the bridal party eventually crossed the bridge, one of the horses shied and the other reared up. The upshot was that Gretchen was thrown from the carriage into the river below.
It seems certain that she drowned as the river was in torrent and Gretchen was never seen again. However, it is said by Hanoverian wicca that at Halloween you can see a headless bride standing on rocks in the middle of the river. Some say she is looking for her lost head, while other say she is looking for her beloved Reichsgraf von Kesselstatt.
Sergevna:
Dancing with the Devil
The girl hurried through her schoolwork as fast as she could. It was the night of the high school dance, along about 70 years ago in the town of Kingsville, Texas. The girl was so excited about the dance. She had bought a brand new, sparkly red dress for the dance. She knew she looked smashing in it. It was going to be the best evening of her life.
Then her mother came in the house, looking pale and determined.
"You are not going to that dance," her mother said.
"But why?" the girl asked her mother.
"I've just been talking to the preacher. He says the dance is going to be for the devil. You are absolutely forbidden to go," her mother said.
The girl nodded as if she accepted her mother's words. But she was determined to go to the dance. As soon as her mother was busy, she put on her brand new red dress and ran down to the K.C. Hall where the dance was being held.
As soon as she walked into the room, all the guys turned to look at her. She was startled by all the attention. Normally, no one noticed her. Her mother sometimes accused her of being too awkward to get a boyfriend. But she was not awkward that night. The boys in her class were fighting with each other to dance with her.
Later, she broke away from the crowd and went to the table to get some punch to drink. She heard a sudden hush. The music stopped. When she turned, she saw a handsome man with jet black hair and clothes standing next to her.
"Dance with me," he said.
She managed to stammer a "yes", completely stunned by this gorgeous man. He led her out on the dance floor. The music sprang up at once. She found herself dancing better than she had ever danced before. They were the center of attention.
Then the man spun her around and around. She gasped for breath, trying to step out of the spin. But he spun her faster and faster. Her feet felt hot. The floor seemed to melt under her. He spun her even faster. She was spinning so fast that a cloud of dust flew up around them both so that they were hidden from the crowd.
When the dust settled, the girl was gone. The man in black bowed once to the crowd and disappeared. The devil had come to his party and he had spun the girl all the way to hell.
Sergevna:
очередные страшилки...
Amber
A Texas Ghost Story
Spooky TexasOh, you hear the stories about how dangerous Ouija boards are, but hey—it’s just a game. Mary waited until midnight to begin our little game, and the four of us—Sarah, Jessie, me, and, Mary, started by asking all kinds of silly questions.
It was a strange-looking board, covered with letters and symbols. There was a plastic pointer that was supposed to move across the board at the behest of the spirits. The instructions called it a planchette.
Around one thirty in the morning, the planchette suddenly froze in Mary’s hand. It wouldn’t move, no matter how much we pushed and pulled.
Mary turned her frightened blue eyes toward me. “I’m not doing it,” she said, lifting her hands. I grabbed the planchette myself and tried to push it around, but it was fixed to the board.
Suddenly, a kind of electric shock buzzed through my fingers. I gasped and tried to pull my fingers from the planchette, but they were stuck. Mary and Jessie both tried to pull my fingers away, nothing helped. The other girls stared with wide, round eyes, as the planchette came alive under my fingers—which were still fixed to its surface—and began to move.
“Help.” The words spelled out under my hand. “Help me. Help me.”
The planchette kept moving back and forth between the h – e – l – p continuously, until Sarah cried out: “Who are you?”
“Amber.” The board spelled. “My name is Amber. I am eight years old.”
“What’s wrong?” Mary asked. Her face was so white all the freckles stood out like darkened age spots.
“Water. Danger. Help. Scared.” The words spelled out as fast as my hand could move.
“Call 9-1-1,” Mary cried suddenly. “Quick. Amber is in danger.”
By this time, Sarah was gasping into the phone. Then she hung up the phone. “They wouldn’t listen to me,” she told us, almost in tears.
At that instant, my hand was suddenly free from the planchette.
“She’s gone,” I gasped,
“See if you can contact her again,” Mary said urgently. “We need to know if she’s okay!”
I picked up the plastic planchette again. “Amber, are you there?” I asked softly, afraid of what might happen.
After a long pause, it moved slowly across the board and spelled out the words: “Too late.” And after another long pause. “Water. Flood. Drowned. Mobile. Alabama.” The planchette stopped.
I knew that Amber was gone.
None of us got much sleep that night. In the morning, we rushed through breakfast and then looked up the Alabama news on the Internet. None of us were surprised to read that there had been flash floods the night before. I read the names of those who had died in the flood. One of the victims was an eight-year-old girl named Amber.
Spirit of Finland:
Sergevna, nice to see you here!
What about some new stories?
Sergevna:
Relax, take it easier)))
it means that there aren`t any ghosts in the Black sea any more... and you may swim there)))
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