Untitled

By Bria

The wind billowed outside, causing the old shutters to smash into the house, again and again. The porch sagged, signs of rot showing in the wood. The house was barely upright, tilting wildly where various rooms had been added in during the years when the house was in use. In its time it might have been a grand sight to behold, but nobody was sure. There were no clear signs of architecture around, not even traces of flowers where a garden might have been. The only decoration was a single old tree, large and proud. Even though years had passed it still made the effort of putting out leaves, vigorously decorating the lawn in its colors during fall. The house had stood this way for time out of mind, and probably would have continued that way if the committee had never formed. It had though, and the house was to be torn down.

The committee huddled outside the house, studying it like it was a wild animal. In many of their minds it was. Growing up around it they had heard strange tales about what happened. Children told stories of treasure hidden inside. Gristly murders were shared around campfires. The quietest whispers though, were the ones everyone ignored. The whispers were unbelievable, frightening. Elders whispered it to children as a warning only in bright sunlight when they were out of sight of the old house. The whispers told of disappearances, of things that shouldn’t have been but were. Always the warning followed. ‘The house is our life, so leave it alone or else.’ The message was too obscure to understand, but the point was clear. Touching the old house was not allowed.

Still the committee braved the house, looking down on it. Soon it would be gone thanks to their efforts. One of them stirred out of the silence. “Is that a pumpkin?” He was the youngest of the group, and had moved to the community. He didn’t know about the stories. Mesmerized several committee members stared at the porch. Sure enough, as merrily as if it was getting ready to welcome trick or treaters, sat a jack-o-lantern. A couple muttered, crossing themselves. Uneasiness filled the group. “Did someone put it there?” a woman asked. Glad to find such a reasonable answer the committee moved up the sidewalk to retrieve the pumpkin. It was too far in though, past the rotten wood. No one could have gotten there without shattering the porch. It was too much for one, who quickly left the group. Frowning the man who had noticed stepped onto the porch. It broke underneath, causing him to fall in.

Several members reached their hands down into the hole, only to find nobody down there. Someone stepped into the hole, seeing if the man might have rolled under the porch. Nothing was to be found though. Straightening up the person shrugged, only to find everyone staring in disbelief. Looking behind him he yelled. The jack-o-lantern had become uncarved, as full as if it had never been touched. A few more hurried away, leaving only a small group of five huddled together. “We should grab the pumpkin,” one of them muttered. The strange events had set them on edge, waiting for something to happen. Cautiously a woman reached for the pumpkin, only to find it farther than she had thought. Stepping forwards she found herself in the doorway of the house. Shivering with the chills she looked back.

This was the braver group. They had heard the whispers and still stood watching. When the woman entered the house they followed, wanting to disprove the rumors. Standing together they looked around. Cobwebs were everywhere, though they were only the normal kind. It looked so normal that the events outside seemed surreal. Snorting one of them pulled ahead, yanking open a door that headed downstairs. “Come on, the fool’s probably knocked out down there.” The group followed, tramping down the stairs. If they had looked behind they might have noticed something close the door behind them, but they didn’t. Instead they stood in the basement, fumbling around for their lost companion. “I found something!” a man cried. Thinking it was the lost member they gathered together, only to find the woman who had reached for the pumpkin, dead.

Her head lolled against the wall, face contorted in a look of terror. There was no blood marking her, just a slight mark around her neck, like someone had pulled a string too tight. Mutterings began again. The woman was murdered. Which one of them had done it? Accusations raced around in a pointless torrent. There really was no way to find out. The cause of death was a mystery, as well as the weapon. She could have been poisoned before entering even. Backing off the group agreed it was time to leave. Once out they would call the police. Walking back up the stairs the leader tried to open the door. It wouldn’t budge. Scared now he began banging against it, working into a frenzy. The rest of the group rushed up, pushing as much as they could, but it was pointless. They argued about whether or not the front door was locked upstairs as well, but the point was moot. It didn’t matter since they couldn’t leave the basement.

Sobbing the last woman of the group sank to the ground. A man wrapped his arms around her, trying desperately to comfort her. There was no way to do it though. They were trapped, and they all knew it. The other two men investigated the basement, trying to see if there was anything else down there. It was completely empty. The room had probably been used as a cellar, the room left unfinished. Their only company in the small dark was a dead woman, eyes screaming in fear. Shrugging someone suggested turning out the lights to conserve power. Angry the man hit him, yelling about how stupid that was. They tumbled out of the light, leaving the woman huddled in the man’s arms. The noises were swallowed up, only the soft sobbing left behind.

Time crawled by. The men never returned from fighting. “I guess we’re going to die here,” the man said. “I see,” the woman answered. He looked at her in surprise. She was calm, her voice slightly dry. Pulling away he studied her. There was no fear. He looked again to find a knife in her hands. “Wha-“ It was all the man could get out before she attacked. The woman had gone berserk, striking madly at the man. Feebly he tried to defend herself, only to grow weaker with each slash. There was too much blood loss. Gasping he sank down, dead. Hungry the woman sank her teeth into his flesh, just like the wild animal they had imagined the house as.

The meat didn’t last long.

Time passed, and a small child sat on the porch of the house. “They’re all gone now. You can relax.” The old house seemed to sag in response, as if releasing tension. “Don’t worry; the bodies will be taken care of.” Turning around the child skipped inside, floating just a couple inches above the floor.