Shelfari: The Site for Books & Readers
Series & Lists
People to Follow
The Haunting of Violet Rose
A lovely Halloween night it was, a lovely night indeed upon which the moon hung, suspended by God’s hands, full and bright against the velvet midnight sky. Around her, having been sprinkled about by those same divine hands, were diamonds that glittered and would glitter incessantly until the gray of dawn crept in to obscure them before the...
A lovely Halloween night it was, a lovely night indeed upon which the moon hung, suspended by God’s hands, full and bright against the velvet midnight sky. Around her, having been sprinkled about by those same divine hands, were diamonds that glittered and would glitter incessantly until the gray of dawn crept in to obscure them before the splashing of brilliant yet soft colors of sunrise would, too, overtake their brilliance.
But, it is not morning, and it will be a long time until that warm sun rises to comfort the soon-to-be traumatized souls now entering a certain theater. The play to be shown, Macbeth, had certainly drawn the crowds: ladies in elegant evening-wear with their male counterparts on their arms swarmed in to take their seats, eagerly awaiting the curtain to be drawn, the orchestra to strike up a rich tune, the actors and actresses all togged up in this costume or that to come spilling out onto the stage in one way or another. Indeed they do, and the play seems to be a success thus far—
And then, a strange occurrence:
The lights, all at once and suddenly without a single solitary warning from anyone or anything, die. It’s a quick death, a startling one that leaves the ladies frightened and gasping and the counterparts shocked but calm and ready to begin comforting, ready to utter sweet, reassuring words. Oh, the lights will be back presently…it is only part of the production….
A scream, a blood-curdling, spine-chilling, heart-stopping shriek of pure agony and terror rips viciously through the air to claw at the eardrums of every patron in the theater. There is no comforting the ladies now, and certainly not when the lights are resuscitated: There, hanging by her neck from which a sanguineous ocean of pure liquid rubies spills to create a gushing flood of hot crimson life-line upon the stage, is Rosetta!
Needless to say, the theater was shut down immediately after the gruesome incident. Events had transpired and persons were questioned, and it was finally decided within weeks that the former boarding school, Violet Rose Academy, which had once combusted (on Halloween, no less) to swallow ten unfortunate individuals within its fiery maw, would be shut down for the second time since its construction. Now, however, yet more events have transpired, and the theater has opened its doors once again as a school.
Your bags are packed with your best clothes and costumes, and your Special Events uniform has been ironed to perfection. The white shirt, maroon knit vest, and black pants or skirt are laying on your bed and you look at them. Have you made the right choice? Is Violet Rose really for you?
Hours later, you’re ready to go and you gently pin the little purple rose over your heart as you climb off the bus before the great school. Spires and turrets are visible in front of the precipice of Mt. Antolin. Maroon flags wave with the same image as on your little pin: A sense of belonging.
And yet, you still feel as if something doesn’t belong. It’s not you. It’s almost as if… it’s next to you.
Will history repeat itself in unexpected ways yet again?
Just for Fun
| Started October 2012
Recently Active Members
Our Newest Members
This is a private group. You must be a member to see group content. To join, someone must send you a group invitation.
Questions and Help
© 2006-2013 Shelfari
Terms & Conditions
More to Do