The Red Scare of Communist Life School

[RayanStiger]

This is a ghost story that I had to write for my American Literature class, based upon The Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow. Well, I didn't want to write just ANY old ghost story...so I thought I would write one with a message, reflecting the "communist oppression" JKrew and I and many others suffer at my school due to our teachers' widespread double-standard. So, without further ado, The Red Scare of Covenant Life! Enjoy!

(P.S. If you are sympathetic to socialist or communist psychology, or are strangely loyal to your school and would be offended by any apparent "anti-school" theme, then you may find this story offensive. In that case, I suggest that you refrain from reading this for your own sake. However, since I highly doubt anyone is in either category, especially the school part, you may proceed without having to worry about any of your beliefs being insensitively challenged or mocked in any way. Okay disclaimer out of the way...here it goes!)

[RayanStiger]

[glow=red,2,300]The Red Scare[/glow]

(Found among the papers of the late Daniel Payne)


A forsaken vault of double standards and twisted logic it was,
Haunted by the shadows of those long dead,
And on the wall hung a ragged banner,
Of sickle and hammer upon a star of red.
Halls of Oppression.

In a small, crowded part of Maryland, on a crooked road overflowing with structures built for the purpose of religious exercises, during the age when faceless servants of the evil eastern empire lurked freely about America unchecked, there stood a decrepit old building which, according to the reports of numerous rumors, still remains standing to this day. We are told that it is home to monstrous horrors, looking somewhat like modern educators, who once taught the children unfortunate enough to attend their classes the teachings of Karl Marx. All American freedoms common to most educated children were here held void; the dictator’s rule was supreme, and the expected standard of behavior was inconsistent and lop-sided. The name of this ancient mansion has long been forgotten, and only the tales of its infamy remain. Any who are foolish enough to wander its mildew-covered halls are said to be victims of communist oppression forever. Thus, the ghost (or ghosts, as some rumors report more than one) that haunts it is called “The Red Scare.”

The most common tale involving The Red Scare is about a little boy of the name Rupert von Sleigenheimer. He was the descendant of a German immigrant with the name of von Smidt who had allegedly gone to the ghoulish schoolhouse many generations ago. Rupert was a stout boy of fourteen years of age, although some accounts say he was a little older, and still others that he was much younger. Regardless, every account testifies the same physical appearance and details of his personality. His little head looked like a bowling ball, his forehead glossed as shiny as a waxed wooden floor, his shining blue eyes as wide as an ocean, and his face ruddy and round. Rupert’s body was short and thin for his age, and his legs were crooked, so that one could only wonder how he could walk without doubling over himself like a rubber mannequin.
Rupert was a patriotic lad who had been taught in all the proper manners of democracy and freedom, and was a firm believer in the rights he held as an American. His domed cranium was always itching for knowledge, and a rabid curiosity caused him to froth at the mouth at any opportunity for adventure or discovering the unknown. Naturally, the mystery of the Red Scare and the rustic old mansion was of ultimate appeal to him. He began to walk about the crooked town streets, asking those he knew personally all that they knew about the old place. With each person he asked, the more he learned, and the more his insatiable desire to see the building for himself grew.

[RayanStiger]

One dark and stormy night, Rupert and two of his friends went for a walk (with or without their mothers’ knowledge, no one can say). They spent most of their walk talking about spooky things, each in the attempt to freak the others out. Their conversation quickly turned to tales about the Red Scare, and then one of them came up with the novel idea of going to look at the old run down building that the ghosts were supposed to dwell in. They all agreed, and walked down to the vacant lot of the mansion where they could see it, but were far enough away to be safe from any apparitions or ghosts. The three of them knelt down and his friends began to whisper, so as to not disturb the spirits nearby from their slumber.

“There it is! That’s the house of the Red Scare himself!” one of them said.

“Do you really believe that there’s a ghost in there?” whispered the other with a shiver, as chills ran up and down his spine.

“Why don’t we go see for ourselves?” Rupert asked. “It’s the only way we’ll know for sure. C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

“Are you nuts?!” his first friend said, almost in a shouting tone, but quickly caught himself and spoke quietly again. “You know nobody ever leaves that place alive!”

“That’s just what the stories say. I wanna see for myself, whether you come along or not.” With that, Rupert got up and started walking towards the mansion.

“Have fun, Rupert. Don’t get sent to a sweatshop now,” his first friend sneered. Rupert didn’t answer; he started to run, so that if there were any ghosts around, they would not get to him in time. When Rupert reached the old boarded up building, he quickly pulled away some of the boards and crawled his way inside.

Rupert looked around at his dark, dingy surrounding. Musty books covered in cobwebs decorated deteriorating bookshelves. Rusty desks were lined in rows, and a broken clock hung above the door. An eerie silence resided, which made Rupert feel uneasy. His eyes were open wide as he slowly scanned the whole room.

Suddenly, he froze. Rupert’s face became creamy pale, and his joints all went stiff. There in the corner stood the semi-transparent image of a woman in a red lab coat. She held a sickle in one hand and a hammer in the other. Her eyes were black and lidless, and seemed to peer into his soul.

“WHY are you interrupting my class?!” the specter demanded. Then, in a very angry tone, the ghost lectured Rupert about how school was for learning, and how if he interrupted her classroom, she was unable to teach, and that he had better learn to respect her rules or else he would be strung up by his toenails.

Rupert was already scared loose of his wits. He sprinted for the door and ran into the long, dark hallway, with the angry spirit chasing after him while flailing her instruments of death. Rupert ran as fast as his hobbling legs could carry him as he fled for his life. He might have been cut to pieces, except for that despite his unsteady legs, Rupert was vertically challenged, and so the ghost of death missed him every time she struck. He eventually got lucky and the ghost swung at him and missed, and her sickle got stuck in the wall. Rupert kept running so as to leave the ghost behind.

[RayanStiger]

Rupert eventually found his way to a large room with thousands of seats in it. Near the entrance doors there were two sets of stairs leading up to large room’s mezzanine. Rupert breathlessly climbed up the stairs and slouched into a chair, exhausted. Then he felt an icy touch upon his shoulder. Rupert turned his head with a jolt and saw another ghastly figure sitting next to him. “The mezzanine’s closed,” it said with a scratchy, tone-deaf voice. Rupert took to his heels instantly through the blackness.

Several minutes later, Rupert stood leaning against a wall, trying to regain his breath. His body quivered with fear. Rupert realized that there was more than one Red Scare haunting the building; in fact, it seemed that it was infested with countless spirited servants of socialist extremists. He didn’t want to succumb to anything that denied him the rights he possessed under the United States Constitution. But before he could think of a way of escape, another voice spoke up from behind him.

“What are you doing here?” the third ghost asked with an air of authority.

Rupert turned around. He decided to answer to this ghost, so that it would not attempt to dice him apart. “I…I…just came here to look around!” he replied.

“Look around? You need to be in class,” the ghost said.

“Class? Is this some sort of school or something? I didn’t come here for any classes! I just want to leave!”

A look of instant concern shot across the ghost’s face. “I hope you aren’t planning to leave and then come back?! It’s too dangerous!”

“No! I just want to leave! I’ll never come back! I promise!” Rupert pleaded.

The ghost thought for a moment, putting his partially invisible hand to his chin, and then said, “On second thought, I can’t let you leave at all. You might actually learn to think for yourself if we don’t keep you properly confined.”

“Of course I want to think for myself! Why wouldn’t I?” Rupert retorted.

“We tell you what you should believe here,” the ghost said. “Now get back to class. You have a lot of work to do.”

Rupert, having been brainwashed by communist philosophy, followed the ghost to a room, where there was another ghostly figure.

“Hiiiiii!” the ghost greeted him. “Welcome to a life of mindless servitude to a bunch of communist bodagits! Here, you get to spend the rest of eternity learning the leftist philosophies of forced equality, invent new gun control laws, and kill off any urge you previously had to excel in anything you do! Eee, hee, hee, hee, hee!”

Rupert was shocked. “You mean I have to stay here…forever?! What about living my life with the freedoms I’m supposed to have in this country?”

“Dude…dude, no. It just doesn’t work that way around here. You have to conform to how everybody else is, which means giving up any freedoms you thought you had for the sake of upholding our socialist agenda.”

Rupert sighed despairingly. He tried to look around at his surroundings, but it was too dark for him to make anything out. He could, however, hear a constant dripping noise. “What’s that incessant dripping noise?” Rupert asked the ghost.

“Didn’t you know that this is a sweatshop?” the ghost replied, giggling. “Ewwww…gross…” Rupert said disgustingly as he saw the puddle around the ghost. “Anyway… if I’m going to be stuck here for the rest of eternity, what is it I’m supposed to do here?”

“Dude… I’ve been making textbooks and brain washing devices ever since I got here…for 33 cents a day!” the ghost replied. “That’s what you get to do, too. And dude, when those bodagits aren’t looking, we can play “Yu-gi-oh!” cards!”

The ghost babbled on, but Rupert didn’t pay him any attention. He fell to the ground, resting his head upon the sweatshop-made school textbooks, and wished that he had never come to the house of the Red Scare to begin with.

When Rupert did not return from the run-down old building, his friends fled, for fear that he had actually seen the Red Scare, and had met his fate inside the mansion. When they told the authorities, the ghost mansion was never investigated, as the boys were believed to have made up the story as a form of cruel joke. Rupert von Sleigenheimer was never to be found, and so most people came to the conclusion that, for some strange reason or another, the boy had run away from home to some other state, or even another country. Others said that Rupert remained locked away in the home of the Red Scare, slaving away in a sweatshop, suffering under communist oppression. Regardless, Rupert was never to be seen again.

~End

[JKrew]

That's one of the best stories I've ever read!

[RayanStiger]

And there you have it! Ah, I enjoyed writing this story sooo much. In case you couldn't tell, this ghost story isn't actually very scary...it's more funny than scary, actually. Most of you probably won't get half the jokes in here, but try to pick them out anyway. Also, $ 1 million to whoever figures out who the 4th ghost is supposed to be. ;D

Oh yeah. Feel free to comment as you will. I'm interested in what you d00ds think...even those of you who lack taste didn't like it for some unknown reason.

[JKrew]

It's Jason!

Now where's my million dollars?

[RayanStiger]

Yup! I even told Jason I put him in it and the stuff he says and he liked it. Guess he's still proud of being a sweater.

[KuraiGekkou]

I must say.. this story is rather interesting.. o.O;; its got a nice flip into it and some meaning as of it. I would get scared to be stuck with a ghost of Jason though thats for sure. I guess its suppose to explain the Red scare and stuff, you did fine with that i suppose. XP. Good stuff Rayan. Good stuff

[†im]

Nice story DP. Now, I will steal it and publish it and call it my own. just kidding. i noticed how the "jason" ghost worked in a sweatshop. nice addon there.

[RayanStiger]

Heh, thx Alan buddy. And yes Raven I'm glad you picked up on that little joke. You know what's ironic and sad? I showed this to Jason and he loved all the stuff about him. Well, glad it wasn't offensive at least...

[Kruck]

Heh this is sooo funny because I know all of the hidden jokes in here. Like "The mezzanians closed" and how it relates to our escuela and stuff. And Jason....yeah enough said when he liked it....man I am stuck w/that kid in my class for the rest of high school!!!! Help me...!

[RayanStiger]

Yes! I finally got my grade back for this assignment... it says:

"Wow! A political satire! Well done, Daniel!" - 98%

Mua ha ha ha political satire no joke! ALL of the secret meanings in there went WHOOSH over her head, just as I designed my story to do to anyone who's not a student. BWA HA HA... I am soooo awesome. Coulda gotten 100%, but I had a time cramp on me due to testings and such, so my paragraphs don't really flow as much as I could make them do. But if I really wanted to do that, I would, cuz I know I have the skills to do that. I cared more about the message I put into this, and so I'm darned proud of myself. Also glad I didn't get F'ed for writing such an iffy story. ^^;;