We're Celebrating World Card Making Day ALL WEEK LONG!
		<br> See Today's Deals & Free Gifts |
We're Celebrating World Card Making Day ALL WEEK LONG!
See Today's Deals & Free Gifts | Details Here!


Give a Cheer
Give cheer Give a Cheer

for Holly's Insane Bizarre Howl-O-Scream Challenge!

Also a scraplift of Jilliand's LO "My Halloween Kitty"

Journaling Reads (sorry so long):I am dead. Yes, you guessed it…I am a ghost. I live in our mansion in Durham, North Carolina. The Old Bull City was where I was born and raised. My father was Buck Duke, American Tobacco Company owner. My mother was one of his employees who worked on the line rolling cigarettes. She could roll damn near 20,000 cigarettes a day. My mother, Henrietta, caught the eye of this tobacco millionaire just a few months after his wife died. There was no way they could get married—their social positions were too different. He was the boss and she was just a lowly worker. Then he got her pregnant, with me. I was the first and only love child they had. Duke had children from his previous marriage. At first he abandoned Hetty (that's what everyone called my mom), but after I became quite a beautiful child resembling my mother greatly he could not accept leaving me to be raised by a poor single mother, who now had no job because of the invention of the cigarette rolling machine which Duke gambled on and luckily came out on top. He convinced Hetty to let me go live with him as one of his servants, promising her that I would go to the top schools and be educated and cultured and make a lovely wife to a rich millionaire someday. So I went to his home as a servant. Mr. Duke (I was never to call him father as I did when I was a young child) had 6 servants, 4 men, another young girl, and me. Anabelle was he other young maidservant who worked for Mr. Duke. We became friends quickly as we were sent to do most of our chores together and we were the only two who had a private tutor come to us daily. As Mr. Duke had promised my mother, I was turning into an educated and cultured young lady who was set to marry a millionaire, but I had other plans. I had fallen in love with my constant companion, Anabelle. As we grew up we would sleep in the same bed and bathe and change together. We never thought anything of it, but as we got to the age where being together like that was inappropriate, I did not want it to end. I wanted Anabelle to be mine. Being slightly older than me (by two years), Anabelle was to be married first. As Mr. Duke does, he found her a proper suitor who was to marry her in 2 months time. This worried me greatly as this man, this stranger, courted my lovely Anabelle. I was lost and Anabelle noticed. Finally, the night had come, it was one week before her wedding time and we were sleeping together again and I asked her if she had kissed him. She turned to face me and in her sweet sing-song voice said no, her kisses are for someone else. This startled me, who were her kisses for if not her future husband? Then she leaned forward and kissed me. We made love passionately and fell asleep in each others arms. Finally, my feelings were known to my sweet Anabelle and she felt the same way. I was elated. But what were we to do? Anabelle woke me up in the middle of the night with her sobs. I waited for her to tell me what was wrong. As she calmed down, she said, “I cannot marry this man Mr. Duke has promised me to. I love you and only you.” I kissed her cheek gently as the tears streamed down her face. I had no way to help my dear Anabelle, she was promised to another, a man of wealth and stature, she couldn't just throw that away. Regardless of her education and culture, marriage was what her future held for her. And that meant a future without my Anabelle. I could not let this happen. I formulated a plan. I was the one to serve them when they ate here at our mansion together—I would poison him the next time he came for dinner. The night had come and I was ready to carry out my plan. Anabelle had no idea what I was going to do, but I had to do it, for us. Sadly, my plan went awry in the first few seconds. Anabelle was fed a spoonful of soup from her future husband's bowl, the one I had put the poison in. He did not know that he was killing his own future wife and the love of my life. As I turned the corner from the kitchen and saw him feeding her, I let out a sob. “NO!” I cried out. And everyone turned to look. I ran back into the kitchen where the poison was and took it myself. Anabelle said she felt ill and lay down. Mr. Duke had called a doctor. I listened to the going ons in the formal room as I gasped for breath in the kitchen—the poison was working its way through my body and I could feel my time growing shorter and shorter. When the doctor arrived, he said Annabelle's breath was shallow. I lay on the kitchen floor alone, dying, as all attended to my Anabelle. She had less poison than me, so she was dying more slowly. As I took my last breath, I was at peace; I knew I would meet Anabelle soon. Shortly after me, Anabelle took her last breath and died. After I had taken my last breath I felt my spirit come out of my body and somehow I had control enough to make myself go in to the formal room where Anabelle was. Her now ex-future husband was tearing up, as was Mr. Duke. The stunning and talented Anabelle had died. My soul watched hers as it slowly drifted out of her body. I ran to meet it, but it just kept going up. I called out, “Anabelle, STAY!!!” But she just turned, blew me a kiss and disappeared. I found that I just wanted to curl up and sob. Mr. Duke called me and when there was no response they went into the kitchen and found my body. There was a long police investigation that started that day. And Oh, the rumors that didn't fly around our city! When the police finally determined the cause of death, they could find no motive, so no one was ever arrested for our deaths. But as mysterious as our deaths were, more mysterious was the bond of our love. That day when I saw Anabelle die, I thought her soul was gone forever and I would never be with her again. But two days after her and my deaths, I felt a comforting feeling. Then it happened, as quickly as Anabelle had gone on the night of her death, she came back to me. We embraced as if we were alive! I had my Anabelle for the first time ever—in my death I received her life and we became like one in our souls for that moment. As days passed and we were buried, we took on the likeness of our own bodies. They had left our room (well, Anabelle's room) as it was and always kept the door to it locked. That's where we spent most of our time, just alone in our room in each others arms. Eventually, Mr. Duke died and the house was given to his son, who did not want to live in it because Anabelle had died there. (It turns out he wanted to court Anabelle as well, but his father told him he was too young.)
So the house became dilapidated except for our room, which was never unlocked. It stayed looking the same as it did when Mr. Duke first locked the door. Nothing in that room changed. Until one Halloween night…There was a group of Duke University women who had heard the rumors that two lesbian lovers had died in this dilapidated mansion and their ghosts still lived there. The women were intelligent and brave, they formulated a plan to get into the house and into the legendary locked room, but Anabelle and I were determined to not have our precious haven touched. When they knocked the door in, the women came into the dark entryway. Someone lit a candle that was sitting on the table in the entryway. Anabelle and I decided that we mustn't let them get upstairs near our room. So we decided to play hide and seek with them. There were 4 girls in the group, as we saw when they entered. But the group was not anxious to be separated in this house. So we slipped downstairs undetected. Then I went into the kitchen and made a noise. Anabelle went into the formal room and made a noise. The girls were confused. Were there really two ghosts in this old mansion? They didn't want to split up to find out so they moved together as a group into the kitchen. I fled into the formal room. I saw Anabelle sitting in an old, rundown chair. Her beauty against the rotting room took my breath away, I had to kiss her. I bent down to kiss her then she stood up so we could embrace and kiss passionately. The girls had now made there way into the hallway that connected the kitchen and the formal room. They caught a glimpse of out moment of passion, then Anabelle and I disappeared back up to our room to continue what we had started and the girls ran out of the house screaming! They had seen the ghosts and confirmed the mystery. Now that our mansion had been broken into we had to fix it. The girls told their story to everyone so naturally someone with a camera came to investigate, we decided that we had hidden our relationship long enough. We let the girls that came back with a camera take our picture and see inside and outside our house. After we revealed ourselves to these girls, we decided that we did not need all of this media attention. They came back, but this time the front door was locked and could not be knocked down. We were safe in our home once again and forevermore.