The Stevenson House

There was something always a little strange about the old Stevenson house. Something no one could ever quite explain. Everyone called it a “murder house.” Just walking past it could cause your hair to stand on end, but that didn’t stop a new family from moving in.

“Alicia,” I heard a voice scream from outside my window. “Alicia Marie, you come here this second!” I rolled over and stared at my drawn curtains. Who honestly yells at 8 AM on a Saturday morning? I flung off my covers, stormed to the window and before I realized I had thrown the curtains open and my window up.

“Some of us are trying to sleep here,” I screamed back. The morning sun always burned my eyes this early. When my eyes finally adjusted, I saw a middle-aged woman and her blonde-haired daughter stared back at me.

“M-my apologies,” the woman stammered, “I just. I apologize.” Her head dropped and her eyes searched the ground.

“It’s my fault, sir,” the young daughter whispered as she approached the middle-aged woman and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I should’ve been in the house,” she whispered again. I felt like I was straining my ears to hear her talk to me.

“Just keep it down,” I shouted as I slammed the window shut and trudged back to bed.

“Well he’s a ray of sunshine,” Alicia laughed as she helped the woman into the house.

“Alicia,” the woman whispered, “I don’t think I like him.” Alicia stopped and looked the woman.

“It’s alright, MaryAnn,” Alicia smiled brightly, “we don’t have to see him anymore.” MaryAnn nodded and headed into the house with Alicia. I laid in bed a few hours more before Whiskers came to wake me. Every morning like clockwork at 11 AM Whiskers sauntered himself into my room to ask for food.

“Good morning, Whiskers,” I laughed as he jumped onto my stomach. “Must be time to eat?” Whiskers hunkered down and purred on my stomach. “Alright, alright,” I said as I lifted him off me and climbed out of bed again. We walked down to the kitchen and Whiskers zipped in between my feet. I set his food down on the table and went to look out the window. “I wonder why they moved into the Stevenson house, Whiskers,” I said as I continued to stare out the window. I shrugged, yawned, and made myself a cup of coffee. As my coffee brewed, I set up my laptop and prepared myself for a long day of writing. “Alright, Whiskers,” I smiled as he stared at me from across the table, “time to write.” As day became night, I sighed and stared at the page before me. Four whole sentences. I heard laughter outside.

“Come on, Ricky.” I heard a voice laugh. It had the same pitch as the new neighbor’s daughter. I shuffled to the window and cracked a blind open. There she was. Draped all over some guy. I shook my head.

“First night in town, Whiskers,” I mumbled, “and she brings home a guy.” I watched as she led him to the front door.

“You afraid of spending the night in a haunted house,” she laughed heartily.

“No,” he laughed and kissed her nose, “I just don’t think your mom would allow it. It being your first day and all. Makes you look loose.” Alicia let go of Ricky and sucked her teeth.

“Your lost,” she smiled as she opened the door and disappeared inside the house. Ricky turned up the collar on his jacket, shrugged and left. I watched for a moment. She didn’t turn a single light on. The only light was a candle in a window. Morning came all to quickly and with it a knock at my door.

“Just a minute,” I groaned as I lifted myself from the table. To my surprise when I opened the front door, I found the neighbor girl. She stood there with a pie in her hand as if this were one of those old timey movies.

“Good morning,” she beamed, “I hope I didn’t wake you.” I just stared at her blankly. She must be about fifteen or sixteen. Where was her mother? “I brought you a pie that Ma- my mother baked,” she smiled as she shoved the pie into my hands.

“Yeah,” I finally responded, “thanks. Love pie.” I walked into the kitchen and sat the pie on the table. When I turned around, she still stood in the door. “You can come in,” I sighed. She walked in my house and looked around.

“You have a lot of creepy stuff in here,” she laughed as she turned and headed into the living room.

“It’s for my work,” I shot back. She picked up a skull and looked at me.

“What kind of work do you do?” She inquired as she ran her finger across the skull.

“Write.” She stared at me quietly for a moment then replaced the skull.

“Ma- mother would like to invite you over for dinner this evening,” she finally said, “to atone for the happenings of yesterday.” I stared at her quietly and pondered for a moment.

“Sure,” I finally agreed. The widest smile appeared on her face and as she rushed to the door she shouted,

“We’ll see you at nine.” Nine seemed like such a strange time to have dinner. Most people in this town were in bed by then.

“What I find most peculiar, Whiskers, is that she waited to be invited in,” I pondered. “Maybe it’s just good manners,” I laughed then turned and stared at Whiskers, “or maybe she’s a vampire. That would be interesting.” Whiskers lifted his head and glared at me. “She doesn’t wear any jewelry that I’ve seen, and she’s been out in the sun,” I concluded as I plopped down next to Whiskers, “so that can’t be it. They could be like those Harvestdale wives. You know, the robotic ones?” Whiskers purred gently under my touch. “In just a few hours I will enter the Stevenson house,” I murmured. Darkness always seemed to come quickly to our little town and before I knew it, I found myself near the gate of the Stevenson house. “No lights on again,” I mumbled as I looked at a candle in a window. The door flung open in a matter of seconds.

“So glad you could make it,” Alicia smiled brightly. The inside of the house burned brightly. I walked behind Alicia and took notice of all the light.

“From outside,” I mentioned, “the house looks very dark. It looks like there’s only one candle lit.” Alicia giggled and led me toward the dining room. “I brought a cake.” Alicia stopped and turned to me.

“Oh, it seems that you did,” she smiled and took the cake from me. “Please, make yourself at home,” as she motioned to the dinner table, “we will be right out.” I sat towards the middle of the table and waited patiently. Seconds later they both appeared.

“There are five place settings,” I mentioned as Alicia helped her mother to her seat, “are we expecting more company?” Alicia shook her head.

“We just always like to have extra,” she smiled, “just in case.” I nodded and her mother began to engage in conversation with me. Asking me suspicious things like if I have a family in town, how long I’ve lived here, if I have any lovers. The routine things to ask someone before you kill them. I laughed and shook my head.

“Alicia, dear, please bring in that cake he baked,” MaryAnn smiled, “it smells delicious.” Alicia nodded and obediently retrieved the cake from the kitchen. After dessert, we retired to the common area for coffee and to continue our conversation.

“You ask a lot of questions,” I laughed as MaryAnn continued to press. Alicia sat with us for a few before she let a yawn slip. “Someone must be getting sleepy,” I smiled and nodded at Alicia.

“I can’t quite explain it,” she yawned again, “but I think I need to go to bed.” MaryAnn and I watched as Alicia climbed the stairs and headed to her bedroom.

“I should be heading out,” I said as I lifted myself and headed to the door, “it is such a lovely house.” I smiled to MaryAnn.

“You don’t have to go,” she called back. “We can chat a while or we can do something else if you’d prefer,” she smiled as she approached me. Intrigued, I paused and glanced back at MaryAnn. Perhaps she was a witch. There was a full moon out tonight and witches do have their weird blood rituals. MaryAnn pressed me against the front door and licked my lips. I wrapped my arms around her and ran a finger up and down her spine.

“You’re so delicate,” I whispered as I scratched her back gently. Bats fluttered from the fireplace and into the foyer. “So soft,” I whispered as I kissed her neck. “So supple,” I whispered again as I felt my hand enter her back. MaryAnn let out a soft gasp. Her eyes filled with tears as I snatched her spine from her body. “You should’ve never moved into my house,” I whispered again as she slid to the floor. I kneeled over her and kissed her forehead. My eyes shifted to the stairs. I listened carefully for a moment. A smile spread across my face when I heard soft footsteps on the stairs.

“You have got to stop baking me into cakes,” Whiskers groaned, “it’s on the verge of disrespectful.”

“But you love it,” I smiled as I lifted Whiskers into my arms, “you must tell me what her insides were like.” I laughed as I stroked his blood-soaked fur.

“I will tell you all about it,” Whiskers purred. As morning dawned police and reporters swarmed on the Stevenson house.

“The house claims another,” a neighbor said to me as I stood on the porch and sipped my coffee. “Oh, you know,” she smiled at me, “we are still waiting for your new book. The way your killer baked his familiar into the cake last time. Brilliant! Any progress?” I nodded and proceeded back inside my house. I sat down at my laptop and looked to Whiskers who laid on the table.

“We should put the house back on the market,” I smiled and stretched. My newest collection stood in the corner of the living room. It only missed a few pieces like arms and legs, but that spine was so exceptionally beautiful.