‘It Doesn’t Exist’

You readers are simply frightening.

It’s spooky how many of you--5,626 to be exact--have bizarre enough imaginations to submit entries to our fifth annual Halloween scary story contest. And, yes, blood-draining as it was, we closely eyeballed each and every one.

Oh, the gore, the guts, the annoying sisters who meet deservedly bitter ends, the green zombies who masquerade as elementary schoolteachers, the outer space guys who turn little boys into ground meat (yes, bones and all).

Martha Stewart moves to our house!

Christmas season presents Tickle Me Donny Osmond dolls!

Marv Albert asks, “Do you have that in a 40 short?”

Stop, stop, stop. Life in Southern California is scary enough.

Well, here are the winners--four adults and four children in the writing category, and an adult and a child in the drawing category. These lucky 10 each win four tickets to Disneyland.

Here are a few samples from those who didn’t make it:

Understatement of the Pile: “Two years ago there was a boy named Max. He was not very nice. He robbed an old lady. He felt bad. So did the old lady.”

Best Last Line: “It’s been a year since Scott’s death. I’m sad about this tragedy, but at least I’m popular.”

Call David Letterman: “It would be a scary Halloween this year when . . . your mother generously volunteered to provide entertainment (defined as singing and doing the polka) at the annual school dance.”

Take me to Funkytown: “The Boogie Man wore a white polyester suit and a gold chain around his neck. . . . Gerald could feel the life drain out of him as he was compelled to do the Disco Duck and then the Hustle.”

And now the winners:

It was a dark, mysterious night, a night anything could happen. Two brothers, Danny and Greg, were exploring in the woods. The boys ventured farther from the trail and soon became lost. It was getting darker.

“We don’t have a chance of finding the trail until morning. I guess we’ll have to stay the night here,” Danny announced with a sigh.

Greg agreed, “Let’s find a place to camp tonight.”

As they searched for a suitable spot, the aroma of food filled the air. “Do you smell that?” asked Danny, noticing how hungry he was.

“I sure do,” Greg said. “Someone is cooking food. Let’s follow the smell.”

The two boys let the mouth-watering smell guide their stomachs to a small cottage. It was spooky looking, surrounded by overgrown trees and plants, but their empty stomachs pushed them on.

Danny, the bravest of the two, pounded on the big wooden door. A young, beautiful woman answered the door. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, please,” Danny answered. “We’re lost and awfully hungry . . . .”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the lady interrupted, “but I don’t have anything to feed you.”

Greg’s stomach encouraged him to speak up. “But I smelled something wonderful cooking. . . . Is that soup?” he asked, peeking inside.

In the middle of the one-room cottage was a black caldron, filled with steaming soup. “Oh, that soup?” she replied. “That soup doesn’t exist.”

The two boys exchanged glances. “Then why do I see it?” Danny protested.

The stranger answered, “Well, if you believe it’s there, then it becomes real to you.”

Greg leaned over and whispered to Danny, “I think she’s crazy, but let’s eat her food anyway.”

Danny agreed and asked, “Well, can we have some of that soup anyway?”

The stranger smiled and said, “Of course! You can have all the soup you want, but I’m warning you, it doesn’t exist.”

Greg scooted his way inside and said, “Yeah, sure lady. Now where are the spoons?”

The young woman seated them at a wooden table, brought out two steaming bowls and set them in front of the two boys. “Two bowls of nonexisting soup,” she said.

The boys quickly devoured their soup in massive gulps, but their bowls never grew empty. No matter how much they ate, their bowls were still full.

Reading their minds, the woman said, “The bowls never grow empty because the soup doesn’t exist. You can eat as much as you want and never get full because it doesn’t exist.”

Greg looked down at his feet. They were fading. He could see right through them. “I’m disappearing!” he yelled and jumped up.

Danny sat frozen in shock. He stared down at his own feet and watched helplessly as his legs began to fade as well.

The woman turned around, but was no longer young. She was old, ugly, bent and twisted. Showing her rotted teeth, she said, “I told you the soup didn’t exist. Now that you’ve eaten it, you won’t exist either. Soon you will be gone and no one will remember you.” The old woman threw back her head and laughed an evil laugh.

“She’s a witch!” Greg gasped.

“I don’t believe in witches,” Danny protested. “And I wish I had never eaten this soup.” Danny glanced down and noticed half of his body had already faded away.

Suddenly Greg shouted, “The reason this soup is making us disappear is because we believe in it. All we have to do is not believe in the soup, witch, and this entire night.” Taking action, Greg jumped up and yelled, “I don’t believe in you, old witch!” Then he pushed her into the pot of soup.

Soon Greg and Danny found themselves standing in a clearing in the middle of the forest. They recognized it. It was the spot the old cottage used to sit on. Everything was gone. The boys’ bodies were back to normal.

Danny and Greg never told of this mysterious night because, after all, it didn’t exist.

*

* Jenny, 13, an eighth-grader at Las Flores Middle School, Rancho Santa Margarita, dedicates this story to her family, Mrs. Cummings, Mrs. Osborne and Mr. Harnett, “who give me those looks that are scarier than any story will ever read.”