Kisses from the Grave - Chapter 6 (standard:Ghost stories, 1344 words) [6/8] show all parts
Author: kissofthehungry	Added: Jan 22 2005	Views/Reads: 2754/1967	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Desiree's not done with Mark and uses Michelle to show him that they're not safe and never have been in the house.

He didn't remember going to sleep, but he woke up to Michelle standing
above him, but something was off about her.  Then he noticed how 
incredibly blue her brown eyes were.  A very familiar shade of blue. 

"You promised me you would follow me.  Don't break your promise,"
Desiree's voice spoke from Michelle and he couldn't ignore the chills 
that ran up and down his back.  It was beyond eerie to listen to a 
spirit's voice coming from his ex-girlfriend's mouth.   Then she turned 
around and walked out his door, quickly, he jumped up and followed her 
down the stairs. 

With purpose, she strode into the office but it was no longer the
office.  It was the room that he had seen, decorated as that of a 
teenage girl.  There were pictures of Desiree and other girls laughing, 
a picture of Poka by her bed.  This had been her room.  Michelle 
stopped in the middle and closed her eyes. 

Michelle still stood in front of him, but Desiree lay asleep in her bed.
 Suddenly, her closet door opened and Mark could just barely make out 
an older man stroking his private parts and watching her sleep.  He 
must have stepped back or something for there was a creak of wood and 
Desiree woke up, but didn't reveal she was awake.  She watched the man 
in her closet finish his deed then disappear into the back.  He forgot 
to shut the door. 

The view shimmered to morning, Desiree was dressed in her white dress
with a daisy in her hair.  She was in her closet, searching around the 
back and suddenly, the back wall opened up.  Holding her breath, she 
crept down the stairs.  Mark was with her, though he wasn't even aware 
of walking.  He was aware of Michelle beside him but he couldn't talk 
to her or to Desiree. 

They were in a room in the basement, a room he'd never seen.  There was
a desk and a table in one corner with a journal on top.  However, it 
was the walls that freaked him out.  There were dozens of pictures of 
girls around his age, most naked, bruised and terrified.  In some of 
them, the girls were obviously dead, beat to death from the looks of 
it.  They lay in shallow graves, waiting to be buried.  The urge to 
vomit overtook him and he threw up on the stairs. 

"Oh my god," Desiree whimpered but didn't flee.  Instead she walked over
to the journal and opened it.  Inside were the details of the horrors 
this man had committed, he apparently reveled in his atrocities.  A 
noise made her jump and she turned to see Poka clicking his nails on 
the stairs as he followed her down. 

"You scared me," she gasped, suddenly, he started growling and the hairs
on his back rose.   She spun around to see a man standing in the 
shadows of the door. 

Panic ripped through Mark's system, they had to get away.  Desiree
grabbed the journal and ran for the stairs, but he grabbed her hair and 
pulled her back.  Poka roared to life and lunged for the man, but he 
had a knife ready and slashed at his face, releasing Desiree.  Again, 
she charged for the stairs, but in her hurry, tripped over the third 
one and went down hard.  The man grabbed her ankle and cut her tendon, 
but Poka attacked again, blood spilling from his face. 

"Mom, dad, help me," she shrieked, dragging herself up the stairs. Poka
had the man's foot in his mouth and was growling viciously.  The man 
reached down and there was a sharp dog howl of pain that ended abruptly 
in gurgling.  Desiree was sobbing hysterically, trying desperately to 
get up the stairs.  Only three stairs away from the top, she was yanked 
back down, slamming her jaw along the stairs all the way to the bottom. 
 The man flipped her over and straddled her, tossing the bloody knife 
from hand to hand, his face in shadow. 

"Please don't, don't do it," she cried, aware of her dog's blood soaking
into her clothes and hair, "I won't tell, I promise I won't tell.  
Please."  The man touched her face, carressingly and she shuddered.  
The man laughed and slid his hand down her neck, his fingers brushing 
her skin, sliding into the top of her dress. 

"No," she shrieked and flailed at him, suceeding in punching him in the
nose.  His blood splashed upon her and she continued to struggle.  With 


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