A Short Story

The Pot of Gold

Once upon a time, in a small village called Hardwick, somewhere around the Middle Ages, on a Halloween day, there were people trying to find a pot of gold hidden inside the big mausoleum located at the top of the Adri Mountain. Every Halloween the dead owner rises from his grave and polishes the pot. Only he knows where the pot is, so whoever defeats him at the Halloween’s night gets the so valuable gold.

At the entrance, there was a Jamaican guard in the form of a statue. The statue was holding a Cuban cigar. He would only open the door if you lighted the cigar. Everyone died trying to defeat the zombie, because he developed giant claws. He’s a mutant zombie.

A drunken family, that was celebrating Halloween, destroyed the statue, which became weed. They decided to smoke the weed. The zombie became aware of their presence. They entered the mausoleum and there was the zombie with his big red eyes full of wrath* and his shinny sharp claws, ready to attack.

John Ahmad said to Joseph Vegetable: ‘’we’re going to die if we don´t kill the thing!’’ Joseph replied: ‘’How am I supposed to know how to kill if I’m completely stoned?’’. Sarah, the witch, said to her husband Peter, the demon: “I’ll cast him a voodoo spell… I just need a photo from his Facebook.’’

Gigi Brushes, their son, took his laptop (yeah, in the middle-ages, laptops already existed) and went to the Wi-Fi spot in the mausoleum. The zombies’ Facebook status was ‘’Resting in Peace’’. Sarah, the witch, then casted the spell, and the zombie turned into ashes. The sky darkened and screams rang out. God was checking his Facebook page, when he looked down and saw their horrendous act. He found it preposterously evil. He came down with all his crew (he also paged the demon’s crew to show up).

They both agreed that they had to be killed. They accomplished the act and they were very happy about it. They were so happy that they organized a party for the whole village. God and Lucifer were the jury of the wet T-shirt contest.

When dawn came, everybody went home and forgot what happened. Only one of them didn’t forget… that person was me, Al-Ahmad, better known as the immortal Arabian leprechaun.

THE END

José Pedro, João Pontes, Sara, Pedro Frutuoso, Gilberto 11^th D, Escola Secundária D. Afonso Sanches, Vila do Conde