50 Word Thursdays # 20 – The Hidden Vault

This story was written for The 50 Word Thursday Challenge. This week hosted by The Haunted Wordsmith, click on the link below:


The picture prompt is above and the words to include are:

I always want to frighten them more.



The Castle on the shores of Lake Geneva looked like such a peaceful place. It was a welcome sight to visitors to the area. That was their first impression. It was never their last.

The Countess was a lady who appeared both beautiful and charming, though age had diminished some of her outward glamour. Her once cascading blonde locks were now heavily tinged with white and fine lines like a spider’s web surrounded those still intensely blue eyes.

I remember the day I arrived at her court. She was surrounded by servants, old and bent, in brown raggedy clothes. This only made the sumptuousness of her silk gown stand out more starkly.

I remember too how she coaxed me to follow her down to the deep vault beneath the castle.

Too late did I see the splash of fresh blood on the walls. The device designed to remove a thumb from a helpless victim.

I remember turning to her and seeing her laugh and say I always want to frighten them more.”

Who she was referring to, I never really understood.

She continued to speak, as her black-clad servants strapped me down to a stone table,

“I hope you have more fortitude than my last guest. He only lasted one night.”

I asked her, the terror in my voice as clear as a scream “How can you do these wicked things?”

She replied, “Life has been an excellent teacher.”

Then it had begun and now I am forever bound here.


[250 Words]


I have also included the following prompts:


Today’s prompt: Geneva, thumb, teacher


FOWC with Fandango — Welcome



The Three Things Challenge – 12th June – A Cold Classroom

This is a Three Things Challenge as set by the haunted wordsmith, see link below:


Here are the three words for 12 June 2018: snowflake, heater, fingernail


When I was at school they still had blackboards, also called chalkboards. They were slowly phasing them out, replacing them with whiteboards and pens that never seemed to work properly. One of the best pranks was to replace all the whiteboard pens with permanent markers and watch at the teachers realised their mistake.

I used to much prefer the old blackboards and chalk. The downside was the chalk dust that seemed to fill the air after the teacher had wiped off the previous days lessons. There was one teacher who had an excellent aim and would throw the board rubber at anyone in the class who was talking instead of listening. In those days, Parents tended to support the school rather than run up there and have a go at the teachers for reprimanding their children. I remember my Mum asking me why I had a white chalk mark on my school blazer. 

“Mr. Peters threw the board rubber at me.” 

Instead of getting annoyed and running up the school, my Mum calmly and wisely asked.

“So what did you do then for Mr Peters to throw the board rubber at you?”

“I was talking too much” (Anyone who knows me, will know that I haven’t changed a bit).

My Mum then gave me an extra punishment of having to peel the potatoes for dinner.

I remember another particular disadvantage of blackboards, one successfully exploited by a supply teacher called Mrs Morris. She was not very popular amongst us. She was an older lady who wore very smart suits and had long red nails. This was before stick-on talons were all the rage. 

On one occasion, it was November and we were sitting in class, freezing because the heaters weren’t due to be switch on for a few more days. Normally November is a gloomy month, lots of drizzly rain and fogs, but not freezing cold. Not if you’re used to it. This day was so cold it started snowing. Usually we don’t get snow until January. 

We were all staring out the window as a snowflake floated past. We talked about how amazing it was to get snow. Whether they’d be enough snow by home time to have a snowball fight. We had completely forgotten about the fact that we were supposed to be listening to Mrs Morris.

Suddenly the most dreadful sound in the world rang out across the classroom. It was a high-pitched scratchy-scream of a sound. Mrs Morris was scraping her red fingernails down the blackboard setting all our teeth on edge. 

We never forgot to pay attention to her again. 


Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 12/June/2018

This story was mainly fictitious and the names of the teachers were made up. Any resemblance to any real person alive or dead, is purely coincidental. 

Picture from pexels – WordPress Free Library.