Oh dear, oh dear.
I thought it was a dream come true, but it turned into a nightmare, and here she was in all her glory; a demon from the pits of hell clad in her pink spotted head scarf and sensible heels.
I mean seriously, who would deny the chance to spend the whole summer in a massive mansion? The only catch was that I had to spend time "bonding" with her. Aunty – bloody - Edna. I don't know why we have to call her Aunt, she's more like the Great, great, great, great Aunt of the first ever dinosaur. Truth is, I actually don't know how we're related, she's just some distant, stuffy old woman with too much time on her hands, and the woman collects buttons, for goodness sake!
And now her little project is me. Turning me into a proper "lady". That thought alone makes me shudder. Mum must've planned this, she's always complaining about me coming home with scuffed trainers and bumps and bruises, I'm sure she'd rather have a daughter that would happily spend the afternoon discussing thrilling topics like flower arranging and the calming effects of classical music. Tough luck, Mum, you've got a daughter that proves stiff competition when it comes to belching the alphabet.
It's at least 43 days until I'm released from this prison, maybe I should find a way of tying doilies together to make a noose to end my misery. I'm staring moodily out of the window in my temporary bedroom, and silently plotting ways to murder my mother when I return home. If I return home.
"Are you going to spend all day sulking in there, Elizabeth?" A voice squawks haughtily from behind the door, I inwardly groan at the use of my full name, nobody calls me Elizabeth.
I decide it's best if I remain silent, hopefully the old hag will take the blatant hint and leave me the hell alone.
"I can assure you, Elizabeth, that I have dealt with sullen teenage girls before, and it did not end well for them. It would be wise for you to remember that the next time you are thinking of having another tantrum. And if you would please leave the room, I wish to have a good look at you," the stern voice said, invading the room once again; I guess she doesn't take hints well.
Or… No, it couldn't be, could it? That Aunt Edna is actually 'Uncle Edward'? She certainly has the facial hair for it. Yes, I'm certain. Definitely a man, I'll have to check to see if I can find any evidence to convince the family. I think I may have to call him by the 'proper' title from now on.
A nasty reply is biting the tip of my tongue, and I have to remind myself with a few deep breaths that this biddy is old, and hopefully will pop her clogs soon and the only reminder of the foul woman will be the inheritance. This thought successfully manages to break a smile on to my face.
"Of course," I shout out with a sugary sweet voice and a malicious grin on my overly made-up face.
"Of course, what?" She replies in triumph as I'm wobbling my way towards the large oak doors, honestly wearing stilts and calling them shoes must be a safety hazard of some kind!
"Of course, Uncle Edward!" I grin, whilst opening the door to reveal her spluttering with indignation, I have to suppress a snigger – she looks like a cocktail sausage that's been stung by a wasp – wrinkled and red!
"How dare you! How dare you – In all my years I have never been so insulted by such an ungrateful, spiteful little girl!" Aunt Edna huffed and puffed, arms flailing dangerously close to my rock hard bonnet of hair.
I find this to be quite an achievement – I've managed to be the most insulting person she's met! I must deserve a medal of some kind – or at least a box of chocolates.
Before I can stop myself, I gasp out between peals of laughter "You're not denying it, then?"
She achieves the impossible and turns an even darker shade of burgundy, her brow furrowed and finger already primed for poking when her reply is cut off by a short, sharp cough from further down the never-ending corridor.
"Excuse me, my Lady, but I believe we have a group of intruders on the south lawn. I wanted to check with you, that they were actual trespassers and not just some unannounced guests," one of the many faceless servants drawls in a bored tone.
"Don't be ridiculous Sebastian; I would never associate myself with people who were rude enough to visit unannounced. Now, go and get rid of them, and call the police if the riff raff cause you any hassle."
During her rant I manage to sneak back into my room unnoticed, and take a peak out of my window, luckily I have an unobstructed view of the south lawn. Maybe if I get out there fast enough, I can convince them to take me with them! I don't care where we go, I've always wanted to escape – maybe I can use the theme song from the Great Escape, it'd be amazing!
I press my nose up against the window pane; there are indeed people in the garden. Ha! They look like lost ravers! They're covered head to toe in red paint, and they're staggering over one of the bushes, they must still be drunk, it's three in the afternoon!
Oh look, and there's Sebastian. It's taken him ages to get out side, because the house is so huge, I would've enjoyed staying here if it wasn't for Uncle Edward and his silly schemes ruining all my fun.
I silently glare at her head; she quietly joined my at the window to watch all the commotion, probably trying to make sure I don't make a jump for it, we wouldn't want intestines getting all over the rose bushes now, would we?
I turn back to the window just in time to see one of the drunken girls take a lunge at Sebastian, oh God, she looks like she's eating his face!
"Traitor! He's one of them!" An outraged cry burst from Aunt Edna's painted lips, and suddenly she darts from the room unexpectedly fast for a gentleman of her age.
"We're under attack!" She screeches.
I follow her in stunned disbelief, until we reach a room, two floors down, and filled with weapons. Oh no. She's one of those mental old people, isn't she?
"What? We're not being attacked you wacko!" I say, shaking my head, as she hands me a large machete.
"We're in a critical position Elizabeth; these – these creatures will devour us and everything we stand for! They must be destroyed, for the good of man kind!" She shouts as she loads a massive air rifle.
Devour us? Good of mankind? What? Oh.
"Zombies," I breathe in realisation and fear, Aunt Edna doesn't hear me, as she's too busy preparing all of her weapons.
Those people weren't drunk, they were dead! It wasn't rave paint, it was blood! Oh dear, oh dear!
With a flurry of activity, I change rapidly out of my ridiculous outfit and into an army style uniform. Aunt Edna passes me numerous blades and guns, muttering all the while about the best ways to kill them.
"Go for the brain Elizabeth, go for the brain."
Wordlessly we nod at each other, before silently creeping our way towards the ground floor. A quick glance at the window tells us that more have made their way onto the grounds.
We quicken our pace.
The front door is in our sights, we stop just before it. I contemplate whether I will survive long enough to see my family again. I decide to say my final good byes, just in case.
Oh Mum, I'm sorry that I accidentally smashed your favourite vase and blamed it on Ben.
Dad, it was me that used all of your shaving foam to create a winter wonderland, in July.
Ben, you disgust me, and you have body odour. Don't think I don't know it was you that stole my last chocolate chip biscuit, I hope you rot in hell!
With a brief nod of consent from me, Edna opens the door and with a roaring battle cry, she charges towards the un-dead.
I stand there, frozen. They look awfully perky for zombies.
Edna, meanwhile, is busy crudely hacking at them with an axe, covering herself in blood and ignoring their screams of terror and pain. Funny, I didn't know zombies could feel pain, I guess horror films don't give you all the facts then, huh?
Quickly, she dashes back inside and slams the door behind her.
"Why were you not helping me? We have to kill as many as we can, as quickly as possible! Lock all the doors and windows, we have to be prepared!" She rants and raves, blood covering her pink dress suit. I'm not going to lie, she looks bloody mental. Emphasis on the 'bloody'.
"Hey, who died and made you king of the zombies?" I ask in ire. I will not be bossed around by this crazed old hag!
"Zombies? They're not zombies, Elizabeth! And I am NOT a man!"
They aren't zombies. Oh God, what are they? A slither of fear tingles down my spine as Aunt Edna turns her wild eyes to my face.
"W-what, what are they, then?" I really don't want to know. I mean really, really don't want to.
"Oh, they are much worse than zombies, Elizabeth. They are anti-fox hunting protestors. Who on earth do they think they are, telling me what I can and cannot kill? Absolutely disgusting, I tell you!" She shrieks.
It's then I notice all the mounted fox heads that line the corridors. That's probably why she has all those guns. I stare numbly at her in shock, as she grins manically. Old ladies are strange, aren't they?
It's then that I notice the pickets, and suddenly the red paint makes sense.
It's then that I hear the sirens and see the blue flashing lights.
It's then that I realise that I am so going to prison. Accessory to murder? Yep, that's me.
Oh dear, oh dear.
AN: The final part of my EPQ Project. Really unrealistic, badly written and probably littered with mistakes - but, alas, I'm too lazy to change it. Modified quote from Shaun of the Dead included "Who died and made you king of the f***ing Zombies?", I take no credit for that quote, but I had to include it.