Book Of Narratives

Haunted House

There at the end of the street, stood broken and derelict yet sturdy and strong, hidden in lots of trees and bushes, a house so riddled with terrifyingly ghoulish spirits and laced with unnaturally thick cobwebs, that no one in there right mind, crazy or not, would dare cross over to, no matter the worth of the place.

And yet, one girl stood, two metres before the entrance, just about ready to cross over into the threshold.

The feeling of fear runs through her veins, creeps up her skin, raises the hair on her neck and produces goosebumps all over her arms; all before settling to the pit of her stomach. She is frightened. Frightened of the unknown. Frightened of her own everlasting fear. She knows no one in their right mind would even consider stepping foot through this building, not even if it was a dare.

No one, but she.

It just started with a simple game of truth or dare, and Suzy and Morgan, her best friend of eight years, decided to make it a little more...interesting. In the game, Suzy had to tell her crush that she liked him, in which Suzy made Morgan kiss her enemy at school right on the lips. On and on the game went, until Morgan went a little too far for comfort, in Suzy's mind, when she had dared Suzy to go into the haunted house at the end of the street.

So here she was, about to step inside the wretched building, which, unbeknownst to her, the owner of the building is currently stood, simply watching her from the bay window of his study, waiting for her to grace him with her delightfully pleasant self.

A bolt of lightning surges down from the sky, so intent on its purpose of causing fear, making Suzy take in a deep comforting breath. The fog and mist wraps around the whole area; choking and suffocating her like a hand holding her neck in a tight vice grip, cutting off her airway momentarily.

She gulps painfully.

The wind whips past her madly, almost knocking her over, her hair going in her face. The gusts are so strong, that even the house looks like it is about to collapse and topple over her; it's centuries old bricks brittle and cracking with a tremendous age. 

It is winter, and now, regretfully, Suzy wished that she had brought her jacket, as a simple top and jean shorts aren't enough to keep her warm, to preserve the body heat.

So on she treks, slowly and cautiously, may I add, as she makes her way to the old oak front door; the grand metal door knocker looming over her, the elegantly stylish glass windows, shining brightly in the dark and depressing fog.

Her heart thumps loudly, beating out of her body like a drum, enough to cause it to almost lurch out of her chest in fright. Her mind agrees. And that is not a regular occurrence, for she can never quite get both her mind and heart on the same wavelength of understanding as herself.

She takes hold of the Victorian door handle; the metal cold against her just barely warm hand, the only source of warmth that has ever been near the property in awhile.

Stepping through, her breath escapes her harshly as the slightest creak of the wobbly floorboard, echoes loudly in the barren front room. She flinches. Even placing her toe on the ground delicately, causes the echo to resonate the room, seemingly rocking the whole god forsaken building, that causes the fear in her body to jolt with her, subsequently causing Suzy even more mental and emotional pain.

She simply stands there. Scared. Terrified. Emotional. A wreck.

Movement of a dark shadow in her peripheral vision, makes her head turn madly and wildly, but she sees nothing.

Turning once more, deciding she wants to leave, she finds a figure standing there.

Still as a statue.

Tall, with shoulder length black hair, wearing outdated clothes; a black button up shirt with bejeweled cufflinks, a red and black patterned waistcoat, a red tie, black slacks, and black leather shoes. He has startling red eyes, the colour of rubies, his lips are moulded into an open mouthed smirk, two sharp teeth, no, two fangs, are jutting out of his lips. His creepily horrifying stare holds her frightened wide eyes, the look so menacing and fearful; with a sort of cold and dark aura about him.

A loud scream rips from her lungs as she sprints at break neck speed out of the haunted house, intent on leaving the damn place, and never returning ever again. Never even looking at it at a glance. Even if it is a dare. She has learnt her lesson. Never to cross into an abandoned house, haunted or not, especially not by a dare.

The only sound of the owners bellowing laugh is heard in the wind that trails behind her, follows her retreating figure.