Short stories - histoires courtes

The Milors' House of horror

        This was an all-too-common mistake; the red-haired girl knew it. The kind of mistake people made in horror movies. Yet, she still walked in the old, seemingly haunted house alone. Well, mostly alone: a short-haired spiky cat kept following her, for some reason. A shiver ran through her neck as she had an all-too-familiar feeling of Deja-vu. The inside of the house was dark, because it was night. No, it wasn't dark, it was black. The moon was so bright outside that you could walk on the streets without needing a flashlight. Yet, as soon as she closed the door behind her, every light disappeared. She couldn't see a thing, which made the whole house even scarier. She could still hear the cat next to her though, and found it strangely reassuring, even if she didn't know this cat at all. It rubbed against her right leg, as if it was pushing the girl forward. "Wait", she whispered. "Let me get my phone, we need some light". She felt really stupid for talking to an animal as though it could even understand a thing she was saying. She reached for her phone in the back pocket of her jeans and turned on the flashlight. The stray of light illuminated the room, but barely. It was like the house ate every light that tried to come inside of it, like it didn't want anyone to see what it held secret. What she held secret. She, because the house seemed definitely alive. The girl took a step forward, and turned her phone in every direction to try and see something. Weirdly enough, she had no desire to walk out of the house. No, she wanted to visit it. She wanted to see every room there was, to know every secret it held. Perhaps that's the effect this house has on people, the girl thought. It makes you come in, and then it eats you up. I'm never going to walk out of here. She laughed at her own thought. Of course this house didn't have any effect in people, she was just curious. She was going to do a little tour, and then she was going to walk out through the front door, and walk home normally, like nothing happened. Little did she know that she wasn't, in fact, going to walk out of there...

        The cat meowed, stopping her ridiculous thoughts. She suddenly realized every ounce of fear had disappeared from her. Maybe the house ate it. All she wanted now, was to satisfy her avid curiosity. So, she took another step, looking around her with the flashlight of her phone. There was a lot of furniture, all of it covered in dust. No one had been there for probably a decade or more, she thought. As she continued, she stepped onto a carpet which made a little squish. It was soaked, although it didn't rain for a bit in the last few days. Disgusted, the girl quickly left the carpet without looking at it. If she had, she would've realized that it wasn't soaked in water, it was soaked in blood. That would've turned her off, and she would've left faster than she came in. but she didn't look, and she didn't leave.

        Instead, the curious red-haired girl continued to explore, and walked in a kitchen. There was a table, that was set as though people were going to come in here and eat dinner like usual any minute from now. Weird, she thought. She approached the kitchen counter. Dirty dishes were in the sink, and a filthy pan. Leaning in, she saw there was rotten food in it. It was so rotten that she couldn't identify what it was. That is disgusting, she thought, stepping away. Thinking, she came to the conclusion that whoever used to live here either left in a hurry, or were freaking disgusting and liked to leave dirty dishes and pans in the sink. It was more likely to be the first option, but what were they running away from? The girl guessed she would never know. She left the kitchen, without paying attention to the ginormous, bloody butcher's knife on the table. If she had, that would've turned her off, and she would've left faster than she came in. but she didn't pay attention, and she didn't leave.

        She then stepped into what appeared to be a living-room, or what was left of it anyway. Her flashlight lit up two sofas, and she tried to sit in the smallest one. However, she heard a really weird and abnormal noise, and decided against it. I don't want it to break under my butt, she thought. Instead she took a cushion that was on the sofa, and gave it a little pat. The dust made her cough, and she could've sworn she saw a cockroach fall of the cushion. She let out a little scream, she hated insects. She took a step back and her calves hit a coffee table, also covered in dust. There were a few candles, probably so dirty she couldn't light them on if she tried. There was also a glass, that was usually used for whiskey. She didn't notice how clean the glass was, unlike everything else in this house. If she had, that would've turned her off, and she would've left faster than she came in. but she didn't notice, and she didn't leave.

        She saw a door in the back of the living-room, and opened it. It led her to an old, decrepit bedroom with a king-size bed. My parents never wanted to buy me one, the girl thought. The grass is always greener somewhere else. The room was very small, giving the size of the bed. There was a closet on her left, which revealed old ugly clothes. These people really had weird tastes. She judged there wasn't anything left interesting in the bedroom, and went back to what was once the living room. She didn't look at the night table, or she would've seen the recent book laid there. It was a book called ''The Milors' House of horror''. On the cover was a picture of the house she had walked in earlier. If she had looked, that would've turned her off, and she would've left faster than she came in. But she didn.t look, and she didn't leave.

        When she exited the bedroom, she advised another door that was quite discreet. You had to be at a precise place to see it, so she didn't before. This door, as opposed to the others in the house, left the girl feeling quite disturbed. Is that a good idea? She asked herself. She hesitated for what seemed like an eternity, before her insatiable curiosity took over. One last room, then Im out of here. She walked to the door. It was painted pitch black which was, somehow, more uncomfortable than the total absence of light in the house. Not as uncomfortable, of course, as the bloody carpet and bloody knife, or the recent glass and book. But the red-haired girl hadn't noticed any of those, so she couldn't compare. She opened the door and faced some stairs. They were made in wood, but the wood had begun to rot, as no one had lived here in at least a decade. Or so she thought. She heard a meow that reminded her of the spiky cat that followed her into the house. Where did it go? She had completely forgot about her sort of friend, absolutely obsessed with exploring the house. "Good boy", someone said. "I knew you would bring me someone else". What the hell? the girl thought. She didn't speak, and if she had, she didn't have a masculine voice. No, her voice was high-pitched, like a little girl. That voice was deep, low. Like a man.

- Hello? She dared to speak.

No one answered, so she carefully went down the stairs. Her flashlight suddenly turned off as she arrived in the basement. However, she could still distinguish some silhouettes, as the moon reflected in this room, contrary to the other rooms in the house. That's how she saw the knife coming straight to her. That's how she screamed in agony and pure terror when the knife went through her heart, as she heard the laugh of a man and smelled his breath. A breath like whiskey. She screamed even louder and fell to the ground. I won't get out of here, was her final thought. Her screams finally stopped as her heart ceased pounding, probably because it was still on the knife that was held by someone that no one ever saw.

        Of course, the story could have gone a lot differently, if the girl had seen the bloody carpet she had walked on moments earlier. Or if she had paid attention to the bloody butcher's knife that was stained in fresh blood. Or, if she had seen the weirdly clean glass in the middle of the dusty living room. Also, if she would have seen the book on the night stand, she could have opened it, and saw it was the book of this house, telling the – true – story of every red-haired girl that had ever walked through the front door that she had walked through. But then again, she didn't see, so she didn't leave. And now, she wouldn't leave until months later, in a body bag, found by the police who investigated in her disappearance stated by her parents.

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Hello everyone,

thank you so much for reading !

I hope you enjoyed. Please forgive me if there is any mistake in this story, as I'm French, English isn't my mother tongue. Do not hesitate to contact me if you see one ! Also, if you have any question, please ask, I'm so glad to answer it. Leave a comment and a vote, it's always a pleasure for the author ! I'll be back soon with another short story, who knows the genre of it...

The next segment is the french version of this novel.

~ Roxane