Great Aunt Alize
Marti and her friends were having a campout in the woods for her 8th birthday party. All the girls and Marti’s parents were sitting around the campfire when Paul, her father, asked if the girls want to hear the story of his great aunt Alize. When all the girls gave shrill cries, he took that as his cue to begin. “The year was 1787,” he began, “and Baxter Park, the place where she grew up, was about to become her worst nightmare. Alize was a chemist and was coming home for the yearly Halloween dance. After leaving the train, Alize decided to walk through Baxter Park for she had loved to play there as a child. As she walked along the winding paths that she knew like the back of her hand, she spied a scrapbook. Wondering who in the world would leave such a precious memory out in the wild, she picked it up and opened the front cover. Upon looking on the first page she saw her father, hung in his kitchen, dead. Scared, she ran home, hoping it was just someone playing a trick on her, but ‘twas not the case. She found her beloved father, hanging in the kitchen, dead. Horrified, she threw the scrapbook away, and went along the rest of her day mournful and wondering how such a thing could happen.” Paul said, “Well, you probably don’t want me to tell the rest. It’s to scary for little girls.”
“Please go on daddy, just for a little while,” pleaded little Marti.
“Ok, but just a little longer.” Paul continued, “Where was I? Oh yes, The next morning Alize found the discarded scrapbook open on her kitchen table when she came down to eat some cereal. Upon looking inside, she saw her poor mother, drowned in the pool out back. As she ran in that direction, sure enough, she found her mother drowned while making her morning laps. ‘Who would do such a thing’ she asked herself. ‘This is just morbid.’
She returned to the scrapbook and took another look where she found her sister shot dead in the upstairs closet, and sure enough she found it true. Glancing at the rest of the scrapbook she found her two brothers, her aunt and uncle, and her best friend Samantha, all dead from different means of torture. Now, ultimately terrified, she took the book and some food and locked herself in the basement. Then she looked at the last page of the scrapbook, and she saw…herself.”
All of the little girls screamed, save one. “Why are you not terrified by my story, Betsy?” asked Paul.
“Well,” said Betsy, “What’s wrong with seeing a picture of herself? At least she didn’t see someone dead.” While everyone busted out laughing, poor Betsy remained confused.