Laughter's Sound

There was only one rule: Don’t open the door.

Randy never took notice of rules and regulations. Since he was a little boy, he had done his things his own way. He would simply laugh it off without thinking of the consequences, other people's properties, and his self being. He laughed each time he was suspended. He laughed when he got into trouble at home. When he moved out on his eighteenth birthday, his parents were more than glad to give him a final kiss.

He had agreed to the terms in the contract when he and his friend Steve were assigned to clean up the land of the old farmer, but having seen the old shed with the "Do Not Enter" sign, he did more than open the door—he kicked it in.

Steve was horrified. Inside, the shed seemed to be a torture chamber. There were axes, saws, knives present. There was a chair-multiple times smeared with blood-on the top part attached to a wooden framework with a pair of cuffed restrictions both around the ankles and wrists. And there was a noose hanging in it.

Randy just laughed. Not even the smell fazed him. The foul stink that came from the shed drove Steve to heave up his breakfast. Randy chuckled and entered.

Randy was trapped when a sudden gust of wind slammed the door shut as he was searching inside the shed and urging a recalcitrant Steve to come inside. Randy heard awful cries outside in the darkness, noises that seemed to be coming from Steve. The door flew open once again as he fumbled into the darkness.

The gleam of the axe blade in the glaring light was the last thing Randy saw. He heard laughing as the last sound he heard. It wasn't his own this time.