Marching season for the Oaks is coming to a close, as the leaves are changing colors and the football season meets its final game. They saved the best for last however, as both alumni night, and senior night happen to fall on the same date. The last game of each season is always a night to remember, and this will be the last opportunity to hear some of the best music played inside of a stadium. The Danger Zone is back as this year’s final closing halftime show, and the schedule afterwards is looking a little dry for the public eye. It’s the hard reality of every passing year, but the MOB’s impressive performances throughout the season are going to leave a mark on the minds of the audiences. It makes it that much more important to make sure you attend the final game to support your friends, support the school, and any alumni which takes a trip to relive a night with the alma mater. 

Although the band is nearing the end of its marching season, the end of October is always packed full of exciting events! Just recently last Wednesday, the band performed at the drug free rally alongside a multitude of other bands supporting the Drug Free Club of America. The show had an excellent crowd reaction, and met the standard that continues to be held. The schedule still isn’t free however, as the band travels to Portsmouth West tonight to support the Oaks on the second to last football game of the season. The blues are back, and rock and roll is here to stay. The King’s music still lives on, and you can expect to see the full show tonight! As the MOB returns home though, the last band show of the year is on the horizon at Waverly in the afternoon. The Waverly Marching Tigers are hosting their 2nd annual band show, and it’s going to be a blast. Show up to witness one of the last performances of this year’s Marching Oaks. 

Late in mid autumn, Grant watches the leaves fall as the moon rises higher in the sky. Suddenly, the wind grows colder, ice setting in his bones as he feels eyes watching him. Brushing off the feeling of paranoia, he retreats into his home to make a snack before bed. As Grant walks into the kitchen, he sees something strange: his white band gloves on the kitchen island, but they're not white anymore. They’re red and smell funny to him. Officially creeped out, Grant grabs a plastic bag; using it to pick the gloves up, he throws them in the washer all but slamming the lid of the washer shut. He quickly walks around checking the doors and windows making sure they’re locked but unable to get the feeling of eyes off him. He shuts all the blinds and curtains.then he hears it, “tap” “tap” “tap,” like wood on glass. Turning, he sees a figure of a man draped in shadows. Grant blinks, rubbing his eye. When he looks back at the window, the man is gone. He turns, sprinting to his room, slamming the door shut behind him. He darts into bed, cowering under the covers till darkness takes over, and he falls into a fitful sleep. He wakes to the sound of footsteps near the end of his bed getting closer and closer; he sits up just in time to see the man before the sharpened wood drum stick is speared into his neck, right through the jugular. Blood pours from the wound, the smell of coppers and death in the air as the sheets turn deep red and the man disappears like a phantom in the night. 

Cinnie had just bought the four bedroom, two story, suburban home in the middle of the Michigan woods in late November as the snow just began to fall onto the grass and trees. Cinnie walked into the house, finally alone, away from the loud city and all those annoying people. She wandered through her new home, opening doors and cabinets and drawers curiously till she stopped at the door at the end of the hall. Funny, she hadn't noticed that door during the show around the home before she bought it. Walking closer to the door, her hair started to stand on end, goosebumps crawled up her arms. As the air turned colder, she reached for the handle, trying to open it, but it was locked. She tries again, pulling harder– nothing. She looks down at the key hole of the door vowing to search for the key once she unpacked. 

Cinnie unpacked her belongings forgetting about the strange door till around 3am; she was jolted awake from the sounds of footsteps running down the hall. Was someone in her home? Suddenly remembering the previous owners of the house and an old man and his son had mysteriously disappeared last winter, she became scared. With shaky hands gripping her emergency pepper spray and trembling feet, she snuck out of her room into the hall. Following the direction of the footsteps, she paused as she saw the mysterious door open with a dim red glow almost like fire coming from inside; the smell of sulfur filling her nose as she crept closer and closer trying to get a better look. Suddenly, a huge, black hand with long murderous claws grabbed her ankle, pulling her into the room. Screaming, she dropped the pepper spray and tried to kick free of the monster’s grip only for it to hold tighter, its claws digging into her leg flesh. Bones break– crack– as blood pools on the floor leading a trail of red on the dark oak floors. She’s dragged into a dark pit; fire burns Cinnie’s skin as she screams, and the door slammed shut. The last sound heard is the click of the lock back into place. Three months later, the house was put back on the market–the door waiting to drag its next victim down.