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The house

Hazel beck

By Hazel BeckPublished 3 years ago 3 min read
The house
Photo by David Clode on Unsplash

I swerved onto the weed spotted gravel driveway. If you could call it that. I always had an interest in haunted places. Anything that could give a good scare was a top on my must see list. Ever since moving here I couldn’t help but seek out this old dilapidated house. I felt as if I was drawn to it. Maybe it was fate, or maybe it was the alcohol talking. For some reason I felt more scared than usual, so I took some extra liquor bottles with me. I stepped out of the car and looked up into the sky. A full moon was plastered into the darkness and the breeze sent a chill down my spine. Fall had already begun with Halloween trailing right behind. Perfect season, and a perfect night. I steadied myself and with the bottle in one hand I carefully ascended the rickety stairs. The porch was in worse shape than those damn stairs. I feared I would fall through the floorboards below me. Creaking the door slowly open I saw nothing out of the ordinary. Well I really couldn’t see at all yet to be honest. I flicked on the flashlight I had on my keychain. It was dark and dusty but nothing that screamed runaway. Well the wallpaper pattern could make you runaway.

Luckily it was already starting to peel off. They said an old couple lived here before and suddenly disappeared. It hadn’t seemed to change in appearances since that time frame. I turned and strode into the kitchen or what it used to be. The cabinets were barely hinged on any longer. And the floor has seen much better days. Cracks riddled the old laminated flooring. I took a deep breath and felt the disappointment well up inside of me. Just another place that was now debunked. I took a swig and closed my eyes while I savored the flavor. I guess I didn’t need to build up the courage after all. As I opened my eyes I noticed something unbelievable. The dining room table was set and everything around me looked new. I was so shocked I dropped the bottle on the floor. It fell with a crack and smashed the remnants of the liquid everywhere. Maybe this place was haunted. I felt my heart thump through my chest. I wanted it to be haunted right? Or so I thought. I decided to explore some more. I slowly crept towards the hallway. The lights were on, but they kept flickering. Clique ghost moves. I stumbled and caught my hand on the wall. Fresh paint was on my hand. Smudged evergreen paint. At least it was much better than the wallpaper. I heard arguing down the hallway. I wanted to run away. It terrified me that there could be someone else in the house. But like a marionette my body started to move on it’s own. Something compelled me to move towards the door. I stopped and the strings that held me still broke. Even though I wanted to run the sight I witnessed now froze me in place. The door swung open and there was an old lady in a rocking chair singing something sweet sounded. Turning her head towards me I saw the face of this woman. She had dark rims where her eyes should of been. The flaps on the skin creased as she began to smile. And in an instant maggots pooped from her eye sockets and writhed back and forth. Then she opened her mouth and they poured from there as well. Her body seemed to decay in front of my eyes. I peeled my eyes from her and turned to the floor. The half body of a man started to move. I felt as if I was going to puke. He slithered towards me. His body seemed to be the underbelly of a snake. I retreated but not quick enough. He slashed at me with blood dripped hands. I felt pain shock through me. A gash was left where he attacked. I ran as fast as I could. The sound of scales against the ground sent me even faster. I wondered if he had turned into a snake itself. I grabbed the doorknob. His lizard like eyes were murderous. I pushed the door hard and fast. I fell onto the porch with the sun belting down heat upon me. How long have I been in there I wondered. I quickly grabbed my leg to check the damage and there wasn’t even a scratch. All I knew was I would never return there ever again. I was lucky to make it out alive and I might not get that chance again.

psychological

About the Creator

Hazel Beck

I love to write all sorts of short stories and novels. My favorite genre is romance with a dash of fantasy. I hope you’ll enjoy reading my works.

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