The Haunted Typewriter
“Here, Mia.” She said, “If you like writing, then you will like this!” She pointed to a large red curtain. Mia opened it and looked. Inside was a large, shiny, black typewriter.
By: Olivia Migliorisi
“Come on, sweetheart” Mia’s mom said to her. Mia did not want to go to that dusty old antique store with her mom.
“If I go, can I pick something out?”
Mia’s mom sighed. “I suppose so…” She said, with the slightest bit of hesitation.
“Ok!”
Mia and her mom walked the two blocks to Tabitha’s Treasures, the only antique store in Mia’s neighborhood.
When they walked in the door, Tabitha greeted them.
“Hello! Hello! Mrs. Wilson, how are you today?”
“Wonderful, Tabitha. What about you?”
“Me? I feel fine.”
“Oh Good. Anyway, I was just coming to take a look around. See if there is anything for my mother. Her birthday is in a couple of days.”
“Oh! Sure! But first have some tea with…” Tabitha coughed. “With me? We can chat.”
Mia’s mom looked worried. Tabitha saw it and laughed.
“Ha! Mrs. Wilson! Don’t you worry. I’m not sick. Just-ahem-my allergies acting up. You know, all that-er-pollen.”
So as Mia’s mom and Tabitha Miller walked away, Mia wandered off through the isles of stuff. Half of the things Mia saw she did not even recognize. She thought to herself, “Hmm. Maybe that is what they used a hundred years ago, when Tabitha was young…” Mia did not realize she was talking out loud. She meant to be talking to herself. Her mom yelled from the other side of the store, “Mia! What did I say about calling her ‘Tabitha?’ You address her as ‘Mrs. Miller.’ Is that clear?”
“Yes, mom.”
“And she is not a hundred years old!”
Mia continued browsing the shelves, ignoring her mom’s last comment. Soon, she came across a gorgeous tea set that she thought her grandmother would like. It had little blue and pink roses on the small white cups.
“Mom! I found something for grandma!”
Mia’s mom came over and said, “Perfect!” She picked up the tea set and paid for it. Then, she asked if Mia wanted something.
“Perhaps for those stories you are writing? There are probably some nice pens or something here.”
Tabitha came over and asked if Mia enjoyed writing stories. When she said she did, Tabitha took her to the back. “Here, Mia.” She said, “If you like writing, then you will like this!” She pointed to a large red curtain. Mia opened it and looked. Inside was a large, shiny, black typewriter. “Wow!” Mia exclaimed, “Mom! Can I get this? Please! Please! Please!”
Mia’s mom looked at the price tag.
“$1000?! We can’t afford this, Mia, sweetheart!”
Tabitha looked at me and smiled. “How much do you want this?”
Mia looked up at her and stretched her arms out as much as she can.
“This much!”
She smiled. So did Tabitha.
“Ok, Mia. If you want it so much, then…”
She took out a pen and pad from a desk right next to the curtain and scrawled something on the paper. She handed me the paper. It said:
Coupon for 100% off of ANYTHING at Tabitha’s Treasures
“This is… amazing!” Mia screamed. So, that day, Mia and her mom walked out of an antique store owned by an old lady, holding two bags. One carried a tea set for Mia’s grandma and the other one holding something for Mia. A typewriter. Only it wasn’t any typewriter. It was haunted. Only no one knew, so that night, Mia started to brainstorm ideas of what she should write about in her book. She hung upside down off the side of her bed, thinking.
“A cookie? No. What about a haunted cookie? No. That does not sound right. Who wants to read about a haunted cookie? Umm… oh! What about… a haunted house-no-mansion. A haunted mansion! Yes! That is it! I will write about a haunted mansion filled with billions of ghosts! And then a girl comes in! And she has to fight off the ghosts! And then she fixes up the ghost free house and then she moves in!”
Mia went downstairs to tell her mom the idea. Then she asked for help bringing the typewriter upstairs to her room. “You know,” Mia’s mom said on the way up, “I really don’t see why you needed this typewriter. You already have a beautiful computer.”
The typewriter was set up and Mia was ready to write. “Ok’” she thought to herself. Carefully typing, one letter at a time, she wrote:
Once there was a little girl. Her name was Emily. She was 10. She lived in a small town and there was a haunted mansion in the town. Emily always wanted to explore but she was always scared. One day she was not scared any more. She decided to go in the house.It was a perfect day to go into a haunted house. Bright and sunny, so no ghosts would come out. At least that is what Emily thought.
At that point, she decided to go downstairs and show her mom what she had written. She was very, very proud of herself. Her mom came upstairs and Mia showed her the paper.
“Look, mom!”
“Umm, sweetheart? Why are some of those letters capitals?”
Mia looked. It now read:
Once there was a little girl. Her name waS Emily. She was 10. She lived in a small Town and there was a haunted mansion in the town. Emily always wanted tO explore but she was always scared. One day she was not scared any more. She decided to go in the house. It was a Perfect day to go into a haunted house. Bright and sunny, so no ghosts would come out. At least that is what Emily thought.
“I…I…I…”
Mia’s mom sighed and walked downstairs to continue making dinner.
Mia just sat down on her bed and stared at the paper. She was sure that she had not done that. Then she saw something.
“S…T…O…P. Stop? Oh never mind.”
Mia went back to the type writer and re-wrote the page, thinking it was probably just some ink problems. Again, after she tried to show her mom, it did it again. In bold capital letters, it spelled the word “STOP”
Continuing like this, Mia wrote her story. She finished it, ignoring the bold capital letters. It spelled out: ‘STOP THIS RIGHT NOW OR ELSE’
Mia did not listen. She kept writing. Bad things came to her for the rest of her life. She never did give away the typewriter. She passed it down from generation to generation. Eventually, someone tried to give it away, but it just found it’s way back to them. When Mia gave away the typewriter, she said, “Just ignore the bold letters.” That message was passed on. When Charley, the one who tried to give it away, found the typewriter again, he decided to write a story. The words spelled out with they bold capital letters?
“This is the end” Charley got lost in the woods a few weeks later. He was never seen again…