The House of Dark Secrets (Part I) (standard:horror, 1653 words)
Author: Siobhan	Added: Oct 01 2002	Views/Reads: 3646/2353	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
She only was enjoying the ride home from her sister's school as she did everyday, but the house that reeked of death demanded her attention unlike anything ever before. It's call begs for her to enter, and she cannot resist.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

his car.  She heard the sirens wailing their hypnotic notes and she 
heard the deathly quiet that nothing could disturb.  She again felt the 
call of the house, deep inside of her. 

She was walking up to the door, her eyes on her feet as if to steady
herself.  The sidewalk was cracked with big weeds shooting up through 
the jagged mouths.  On one slate, there was only one crack in the 
corner, and upon that slate there was child chalk drawing of a smiley 
face girl.  She stepped on it as if to still the smile.  It shouldn't 
be there.  She reached the tiny block that was supposed to be a porch.  
It had a pathetically worn welcome mat which was bare in spots.  There 
was three sets of shoes next to it, a pair of little boy tennis shoes 
from a cheap retail store, a pair of shabby sandals for women, and a 
set of large hiking boots.  The latter had dark red stains around the 
base.  She looked up and the gaping doorway was before her, the peeling 
blue painted door still hanging weird.  It was only on one hinge, 
slammed so hard it had snapped off the other one. The rich scent of 
blood and death welcomed her, mixed with the other smells of breakfast 
and candles.  She hesitated there, not wanting to go in yet needing to. 
 She was afraid, so afraid of what she was going to find.  But she had 
no choice, the desperate call straining to her soul was still wailing 
and she had to follow.  She stepped over the threshold. 

The living room was surprisingly very clean.  It had trim beige carpet
which bore various stains as was expected but it was bare of items just 
strewn about.  What was disturbing were the large footsteps coated in 
blood leaving the hallway to the door.  There was a light blue couch 
with delicate embroidered pillows and a small tv on a hand me down 
stand.  There was a painting of an ocean scene hanging above the couch 
and there were numerous pictures on the walls.  The pictures mainly 
consisted of a beautiful dark haired Hispanic woman, her dark brown 
eyes glittering with pride, a stunning blue eyed little boy about seven 
or eight years old, and a smiling blonde man.  They always looked so 
happy, it wasn't hard to guess that their lives had been shattered into 
oblivion.  But for what reasons it was unknown.  She wished that she 
could stay here but the call was insistent. 

She didn't want to stroll down the back hall just yet, so instead she
wandered into the kitchen.  Breakfast was still out,  not bothered to 
have been cleaned since it's devourers had been ravished by death.  
There were cheap dishware, the kind that is found in discount stores, 
with greasy bacon, half eaten eggs, and chunky hash browns still on the 
plates.  The cups were still filled with orange juice but her stomach 
turned over as she looked closer.  One of the plates had bloody 
fingerprints on the food as if whoever had done the killings had ate 
afterwards and one of the cups also bore the same prints.  She looked 
at the floor and saw the footprints leading from the other entrance 
that lead into the hall.  She was so afraid to follow those prints, so 
scared to see what lay at the end of the trail. 

She started toward the door when an image flashed into her brain.  It
was the beautiful woman from the pictures.  She was screaming, her eyes 
filled with terror.  She was fighting, throwing desperate punches and 
she suddenly grabbed a chunk of glass from a broken picture.  She 
gripped it so tightly that blood began to ooze between her fingers but 
she didn't notice.  Behind her, the little boy was cowered, a cut 
across his cheek dripping blood onto his superman shirt.  The woman was 
screaming hysterically in spanish and she made slices into the air, 
warning someone off. 

Then she was back in the present, no longer able to see the woman and
her son trying so hard to stay alive.  She looked into the yawning 
hallway and it looked as if had no end, just kept going on into the 
depths of hell.  She took a step closer but she began to shake with 
indescribable horror.  There was something down there waiting for her 
to come so it could kill her too and she couldn't bring herself to meet 
it. 

Suddenly she woke up and was back in her bedroom, still on her back so
that she was again gazing at the ceiling. She was shaking and sweating, 
gasping for breath as if she had been running fast.  She couldn't 
believe it had all been a dream, it had seemed so real.  She had 
smelled the death and seen everything in such detail, it was 
unbelievable that it had not been reality.  She gasped desperately for 
air and turned to her side to speculate about what was going on with 
her. 


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