Cornelius Is Afraid of His Own Scream

For the month of June, I will be posting a weekly short short story under the genre of “magical realism”. To kick off the first week, I’m posting a short story written by me and my 13 year old nephew, Ben. If you find yourself laughing while reading, it’s thanks to him. He came up with all the clever phrases, the prompt, and the twist at the end. He’s a creative force and I am so proud of him! I hope you enjoy!

Cornelius Is Afraid of His Own Scream

by Benjamin Mattox and Megan Wheless

And Cornelius, who spirals into madness any time he hears the sound of his own scream, found himself in The House of Mirrors on a Wednesday at 9:33 p.m. 

He wasn’t always afraid.  He once was a jolly young boy with a bowl haircut and chubby cheeks.  He helped his elderly neighbors with unloading groceries and they rewarded him with Google Play Cards.  To date, Cornelius had accumulated 933,963 of them of which he spent only three  on Fortnite V-Bucks and other hipster games.

He had recently turned 15 and graduated to mowing lawns.  His bowl haircut had morphed into a shaggy mullet complete with greasy curls hanging over his eyes.  His once chubby cheeks now were pocked with acne and auburn stubble.  His elderly neighbors had moved out and the street on which he lived was now filled with teenagers, many of which were mindless fools.  Cornelius never felt the need to involve himself in their whacky ways and instead accompanied himself with his own imagination.  

Keeping away from his peers caused Cornelius to develop a fear of loud noises.  Any time the group of teenagers sped by his house on dirt bikes, Cornelius would jump out of his two-hundred-dollar gaming chair and yelp like a sea lion.  Other times, he would hide in a closet with a baseball bat and quiver until the hooligans, as Cornelius deemed them, passed by.

It went on like this for nearly a year until one fall day, a Tuesday to be exact, Cornelius screamed so dramatically that he broke everything in his room with the baseball bat.  He continued a shrill, high-pitched scream which caused blood vessels around his eyes to burst.  He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror.  With mouth wide open, Cornelius screamed over and over again.  Each scream sparked terror in the pit of his stomach.  He found he could not stop himself and ran out his room, down the stairs, out the door, into the street.  His baseball bat still in hand, he threatened the hooligans and shouted, “You ruined my life!  You mindless fools!”

Shocked, the hooligans stared at each other in awe then burst into tears.  Cornelius continued shrieking and sprinted off.  His screams echoing behind him.

Cornelius ran for a respectful hour and a half until he found himself in a large field full of deer, squirrels, and finches.  The deer bolted.  The squirrels scampered.  And the finches fluttered their wings.  He fell down and proceeded to scream himself to sleep, too exhausted to care where he was.

The next morning, Cornelius woke up, with his throat feeling like he had swallowed a lighter. He proceeded to sit up, stretching and yawning like a well-rested middle aged, divorcee. Realizing he was too far away from home, he decided to venture further into the forest that lay before him. As he stepped into the thicket, Cornelius heard a loud bird call.  This was no ordinary bird call.  It sounded like a dirt bike mixed with several dogs barking.  Although he was afraid, something inside Cornelius urged him deeper into the woods.

As he walked, he noticed a rugged trail that led to a road.  Hours seemed to pass quickly, and he reached the dirt road.  He noticed that there were tracks crossed and zig-zagged like vines growing up trees.  That similar tremor of terror he felt the day before started to grow from the pit of his stomach and made its way to his brain.  Cornelius held back a scream and gulped heavily.  He heard what sounded like bees buzzing in the distance.  Cornelius sprinted across the path into the other side of the woods unaware of the ghostly figure that was trailing him.

The buzzing grew louder and the screams inside Cornelius bubbled to the surface.  His cheeks puffed, and finally he let out the longest and loudest scream of his life.  He tore through the branches and thicket, his shirt and jeans ripping on thorny brambles.  The buzzing sound now next to him, he stopped in tracks and covered his mouth with his hands in an attempt to suppress another scream.

Cornelius looked up at the branches above and saw the image of a headless dirt biker in a muddy white and orange striped nylon jacket.  He screamed over and over again and took off running.

Darkness now enveloped him.  He checked his watch and saw that it was 9:15 p.m.  Scared and alone, Cornelius saw a house far in the distance stuck between two tracks of trees.  He rushed towards the house, nearly tripping over his oversized tennis shoes.  He reached the door just as the headless dirt biker appeared at the top of the hill behind him, revving his dirt bike aggressively.

Cornelius squealed and tumbled onto the porch, barely getting into the house before the biker caught up to him.  He tossed open the door and slammed it shut.  He saw his own reflection staring him down.  He turned right and smacked into another mirror, causing him to scream once again.  Spiraling into madness, Cornelius found himself trapped in a maze of mirrors.

Each mirror he looked into showed him how insane he had turned.  With eye bags looking like they could carry groceries and a mouth with only seven teeth left, Cornelius had come undone.  His only hope was to overcome his fear of not just noises or his screams, but of himself.  How was a boy of 15 with 933,960 Google Play Cards to his name going to conquer the overwhelming fear of phonophobia?  The answer, he realized, was to stand up to the headless biker.

He made his way back to the front room.  Sighing, he placed his sweaty palm on the doorknob and flung it open.  There, in front of him, was the headless dirt biker holding his helmeted head in his hands, swinging it like an Easter basket.  In that moment, Cornelius realized that the dirt biker was no threat but merely a lonely soul in need of a friend.  Just like Cornelius.

The End