Witch’s laugh

It was finally summer and Lucille and her friends decided to organize a party on Friday to celebrate it. Nobody knew that it was Friday the 13th.

The day arrived and Lucille invited her four friends to spend the night at her deceased grandparents’ country house in the mountains. After dinner, they made a big fire in order not to be cold, as Lucille said that it was always chilly there. They didn’t know what to do. It was just a big cold, deserted house in the middle of nowhere with lots of paintings and vintage decoration. One of them, Tom, loved horror stories so he proposed to make a competition about who was telling the scariest story. At first the other ones didn’t like the idea, you know, they were thinking the same as you. It seemed like the beginning of a horror movie. Lucille was quiet and she was watching her grandparents’ painting above the fire, thinking about telling it or not.

—I have a story—said Lucille. —When I was younger my grandfather was always speaking of this. My grandmother was always stopping him because she said that he could scare me but I was always listening to him and so far I haven’t been able to forget that story, neither my grandfather’s eyes while he was telling me. It was about a... like a... how could I explain it...? A witch’s laugh. He told me that every night he could hear the scary laugh of the witch who was living in a small house in the middle of the forest. He told me that his forbears went inside the forest to kill her because she stole lots of kids in the village. But once inside, they did never come back. Nobody knew what happened to them and where they were. He also told me that every time that one man went inside and didn’t come back… that night... that night they could hear that scary laugh coming from within the enormous forest.

Everybody was quiet. They had their eyes open like saucers; they were watching Lucille without saying a word, speechless. Tom smiled:

—Come on guys! It’s just a story. You didn’t believe her, right?

Then, suddenly, a spark of fire jumped and burnt the painting above grandparents’ painting! They started to scream like crazy people and the fire extinguished. They couldn’t see anything in the darkness but they managed to get out of the house and started to run until...

—Wait a moment. Tom! Where is Tom!?

They stopped and turned their heads to the house. A short and horrifying scream came from inside. Suddenly they heard it. It was a woman’s laugh, a grisly laugh, a witch’s laugh which didn’t come from the forest this time but from inside the house.



Gesica Gertha, 1r de batxillerat
Institut Joaquín Bau, de Tortosa.


*Conte premiat en la categoria batxillerat en el V Concurs de microrelats de terror 2014, organitzat per la biblioteca amb el suport dels departaments de Català, Castellà i Llengües estrangeres de l'Institut Cristòfol Despuig.