Okay, I have to come up with a 'scary' essay for tomorrow, and it has to involve an english teacher on a dark and stormy evening on halloween. and there has to be a thick fog too.. please tell me what you think, and what can be improoved, and remember that I'm not english, so there's probably some gramatical mistakes. :)
Happy Halloween bitches.
It was a dark and stormy evening. Outside an extremely thick fog was covering all the trees, leaving only the noises as evidence of the storms existence. Inside an old house, an even older woman was sitting alone by a table, correcting essays by the light of a candle. All the electricity had gone, and her weak and tired eyes suffered many troubles even when she read the assignments titles. What a way to spend a Halloween. For once in her sad and dull life, she actually had plans. Her students must have known, because for the first time, all of them had done their homework, leaving her oc-cupied every night for the next week. She couldn’t go on the date with her, hopefully, boyfriend to be, and she wouldn’t be able to watch the last episodes of this season of ‘Glamour’. She was so an-gry that she didn’t know if she should cry or laugh. Her house was creaking in the corners, and con-tinuing loud ‘KLONKS’ from her garden worried her. She wasn’t sure I her roof would make it through the winter. “Stupid kids... Stupid, STUPID HOT YOUNG PEOPLE!” she shouted. She shocked herself, and scared her cat off the table. Maybe she was going insane? She wouldn’t mind. What court would judge an insane, old and lonely woman for anything...? Most probably would. But of course they’d have to suspect her first. That thought made something inside her old brain blossom. She might be wasted, but she definitely wasn’t stupid...
On an evening like this, it would be very natural to get involved in an accident. Especially if you’d have more booze than blood running through your veins. Now, it’s common knowledge that teenag-ers use every given opportunity to drink their brains out. The hotter, the drunker. The younger,
the more irresponsible. The old woman, the Killer Queen as her students called her, was about to let this opportunity literalize her name. She wasn’t quite sure how, so she had brought some an as-sortment of equipment in her trunk. Some dope, which might be the easiest thing to deny participa-tion in. Some gasoline (those stupid, young, hot and drunk smokers always fall asleep with a ciga-rette in their hand). A big fat kitchen knife and a hand gun in case the other alternatives should fail. That would be difficult to lie to the investigators of the coming case about, but at the same time, it would be the most satisfying and amusing way to do it. By far!
Outside the window on her right side she noticed a group of teenagers on a road about fifty meters ahead. The fog had faded away a bit, so she could tell that they where dressed up, but not who they were. The adrenalin caused by this evening’s unexpected twist had for some reason improved her sight a lot. She had young eyes for a change. She was alive. “What if this is ‘my’ teenagers?” she mumbled. What if they where? If that was the case, then god must be supporting her plan, serving them right in front of her on a silver tray, giving her a chainsaw to cut them up with. It would be so beautifully easy. All she would have to do was to run them over with her car. She would get the view of their young and hot blood splashing on her front window, and all she’d have to do after-wards would be to go home and call the police saying that she had been involved in an accident. Who would suspect an old woman with a bad sight on a night like this, to something like that inten-tionally? The adrenalin was pumping through her body. That was the perfect solution, all she’d have to do was turn this corner and speed up. The trees flooded together, and all noises were hurled up into a messed up buzzing. This might not be her teenagers. The meeting house t