Haunted House - 5/12

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BingoBill
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Re: Haunted House - 5/12

Postby BingoBill » Thu Jun 11, 2009 4:25 am

“We should call someone.”
“Uh-hu.”
“No, really, we should call someone, like the police or…the media. There are TV shows about poop unicorns and rainbows like this.”
I nodded, and then sat down on the couch and stared at the wall where it had disappeared. This was not a normal event in the life of a middle aged school teacher and I was still digesting the experience.
Carol gave me a quick look as if to say ‘go ahead, space out for a while’ and then left to get more boxes from the car.
The house had a reputation; it was part of the allure as well as a welcome drop in the price. The market was hot and midsized homes were going for twenty or even thirty percent more than they had the year before.This was a jewel, a large four bedroom Victorian on a half acre, in town. Sure it needed work. We joked about spending the summer pealing the ancient wallpaper and learning how to fix the original plumbing, real copper. We were lucky to get approved.
But now this.
“Did you call someone?” she asked.
“No.”
I knew it was time to act, to get moving and act like a man. ‘I am man’ might be the right scene for this act, if I had written it for one of my creativity classes. I got up and started unloading again.
Act 2, the night comes a ‘nockin.
I was awake despite the throb and burn of well used muscles. The bedroom was a collage of boxes and furniture arranged in neat little paths. After unloading the van and eating a takeout dinner we collapsed into well earned slumber. Or at least Carol had. I was awake and still wondering about our problem.
Getting up I told myself I was going to get a Tylenol and maybe a drink of water but really I just wanted to go to the kitchen and look for our guest.
The stairs were cold and I made a mental note to call the furnace guy, didn’t want to wait until the fall and be caught short.
The kitchen was bare. Only the table stood where we had left it. We had stacked the boxes labeled ‘kitchen and stove’ in the hallway and left the scene of the crime just as we found it.
“Anyone here?” I whispered into the night, the aging Formica answered not. “Hello, ally, ally all is free,” I called out in the ancient tongue of childhood.
A dust mote danced on the wall and I waited, waited for a return. I waited all night and in the morning knew that the house was still lived in and I might not like it here.

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smallPencil
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RE: Haunted House - 5/12

Postby smallPencil » Thu Jun 11, 2009 1:38 pm

For crying out loud, here; let me run down the list; my beer, still ice cold: in his hand; my leather recliner with built in cup holders and universal remote: occupied by the guy holding my beer; my television: on for his viewing pleasure; my house: muddied by his reckless entrance; the air in my house, my air: stinky. "Hey buddy," I say without moving past the entranceway, "you want me to get my girlfriend to come give you a blow while you're at it? You know, just to top it off?"

My sarcasm earns a slanted glance, "Listen pal, I don't need your grief." I can’t place his accent. The words come out slow, as if forced.

"Hey," I stammer here, I feel off balance, unsure, "hey, you're in my house. Who the hell are you?"

"What?"

"I said, 'who the--'"

"No," He cuts me off, "I mean, 'What?', 'What are you?' is the question you should be asking."

"What..." I trail off in bewilderment.

"A zombie. I am a zombie."

"What? Zombies are dead. So they don't have a working brain. Your brain needs to work for you to taste stuff, right?"

"Yeah?"

"So," I raise my voice, "Why are you drinking my freaking beer then?!"

"It isn't dead."

"I know it isn't freaking dead! It's only been in the fridge for like two--"

"No. My brain, you idiot! My brain isn't dead."

"What? But aren't you dead? I thought you said you were a zombie?"

"Man... you mouth-breathers, I tell ya. I'm undead, genius, undead. Haven't you ever seen a George Romero flick?"

"So what do you breath out of then, smart guy?"

He was momentarily taken aback, "Huh?"

"Well, 'mouth-breather' is meant to be contrasted with other people of higher intelligence who breathe through their noses. Since you don't breathe at all it doesn't make any sense for you to use 'mouth-breather' like that."

"We don't contrast the 'mouth' part of the conjuncture slang, moron, we contrast the 'breathe' part, as in ' you stupid mouth-breathers use your mouths for breathing as contrasted with those of higher intelligence who use their mouths for..." he made a "v" with two rotting fingers, held them over his mouth and waggled a worm infested tongue between them "... other things."

I did not know what tongue exercises or this Romero guy had to do with somebody else drinking my beer. "Well, who’s this ‘Romero’?"

"'Night of the Living Dead?' 'Day of the Dead.' 'Dawn of the Dead.' All of that sort?"

"Oh, yeah, I've heard of them."

"Ok, and in every one of them, where do you need to shoot a zombie to kill him?"

"It."

"Shut up!"

"Sorry. Ok, in the head. You have to shoot them in the head."

"Yes..." he drew out the middle of the word while using a hand motion to encourage me to think further.

After a moment what he was trying to say dawned on me, "Oh."

He smiled, "right." Then he raised my beer in mock toast before taking a long swallow.

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RE: Haunted House - 5/12

Postby SimplySky14 » Sun Jun 14, 2009 9:01 pm

Being 14 is hard enough. When you're forced to leave your thriving life in the suburbs behind and move to a rural middle-of-nowhere town, it just adds to the inevitable misery of adolesence...

I tossed and turned uncomfortably in my new room, listening to the strange noises echoing from the room next to mine. Slap, slap, slap. I groaned in frustration. It wouldn't stop!
My mom and dad had a room upstairs. I assumed enviously that they were slumbering peacefully. They loved this new house. I didn't.

"Ugh!" I moaned pathetically. Then, more loudly, "Whatever is making that noise in there better stop!"
The slapping and tapping stopped momentarily, then picked right back up. I rolled over onto my other side, frowing into the darkness.
Raucous laughter exploded. I lost it.
I hurled myself out of bed. All I wanted to do was sleep, for heaven's sake! I glanced up to the clock as I stormed into the soon-to-be living room. 2: 37 a.m. What could be going on at 2:37 in the morning! My parents never stayed up past 10 half the time.
Without thinking, I pushed the door open, clicked on the light, and gasped at what my eyes beheld: two white skeletons sat across from each other, cross-legged on the floor, laughing together.
They noticed me simultaneously. "Oh. Hello, there," one greeted in a smooth, lightly accented voice.
The other started shuffling cards. "Greetings. We were just about to play some Go Fish. Would you care to join?"

THE END.

SimplySky14
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RE: Haunted House - 5/12

Postby SimplySky14 » Sun Jun 14, 2009 9:01 pm

Being 14 is hard enough. When you're forced to leave your thriving life in the suburbs behind and move to a rural middle-of-nowhere town, it just adds to the inevitable misery of adolesence...

I tossed and turned uncomfortably in my new room, listening to the strange noises echoing from the room next to mine. Slap, slap, slap. I groaned in frustration. It wouldn't stop!
My mom and dad had a room upstairs. I assumed enviously that they were slumbering peacefully. They loved this new house. I didn't.

"Ugh!" I moaned pathetically. Then, more loudly, "Whatever is making that noise in there better stop!"
The slapping and tapping stopped momentarily, then picked right back up. I rolled over onto my other side, frowing into the darkness.
Raucous laughter exploded. I lost it.
I hurled myself out of bed. All I wanted to do was sleep, for heaven's sake! I glanced up to the clock as I stormed into the soon-to-be living room. 2: 37 a.m. What could be going on at 2:37 in the morning! My parents never stayed up past 10 half the time.
Without thinking, I pushed the door open, clicked on the light, and gasped at what my eyes beheld: two white skeletons sat across from each other, cross-legged on the floor, laughing together.
They noticed me simultaneously. "Oh. Hello, there," one greeted in a smooth, lightly accented voice.
The other started shuffling cards. "Greetings. We were just about to play some Go Fish. Would you care to join?"

THE END.

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Re: Haunted House - 5/12

Postby Pixel87 » Mon Jun 15, 2009 4:50 am

I finally got my own house, moving away from the sheltered nest of my parents, and am completely ecstatic about it. As i unpacked I was thinking of all the parties I could have in this new home, all the people I would meet and adventures that would start here. Also I thought of the new furniture i will have to buy and how I'm suddenly not happy with the bathroom supplies i previously bought. I made a mental note to go to the store tomorrow and buy at least a new shower curtain, the one i have simply will not do.

What was that? Did the curtains just move? I dont have the air on, yet its getting cold. I shruged it off, I was starting to creep myself out. First night in a new home, alone, bound to happen some time. Once i returned to the boxes pilled in the living room I heard a voice coming from the bathroom i had just left.

Its just my imagination. It has to be. The creaking in the floor coming up behind me is my imagination. The dish that just crashed to the tile scattering glass all over the kitchen floor was just my imagination. I tried convincing myself this cant be real, it just cant be. The one thing i was never able to push off as imagination was the loud commanding voice.

"Get out of this house! You are not welcome!"

I didn't know who or what it was that was telling me what to do in my own new house but I wasn't about to stick around asking questions. I quickly ran to the car fumbling for my keys to drive back to my parents, I'll just tell them I wanted to stay one more night with them. As I exited the driveway I risked a glance up and saw, no thought I saw, a shimmering translucent man standing in the window. Great, at least i know the first party i'll be having here, a seance.

Pixel87
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Re: Haunted House - 5/12

Postby Pixel87 » Mon Jun 15, 2009 4:50 am

I finally got my own house, moving away from the sheltered nest of my parents, and am completely ecstatic about it. As i unpacked I was thinking of all the parties I could have in this new home, all the people I would meet and adventures that would start here. Also I thought of the new furniture i will have to buy and how I'm suddenly not happy with the bathroom supplies i previously bought. I made a mental note to go to the store tomorrow and buy at least a new shower curtain, the one i have simply will not do.

What was that? Did the curtains just move? I dont have the air on, yet its getting cold. I shruged it off, I was starting to creep myself out. First night in a new home, alone, bound to happen some time. Once i returned to the boxes pilled in the living room I heard a voice coming from the bathroom i had just left.

Its just my imagination. It has to be. The creaking in the floor coming up behind me is my imagination. The dish that just crashed to the tile scattering glass all over the kitchen floor was just my imagination. I tried convincing myself this cant be real, it just cant be. The one thing i was never able to push off as imagination was the loud commanding voice.

"Get out of this house! You are not welcome!"

I didn't know who or what it was that was telling me what to do in my own new house but I wasn't about to stick around asking questions. I quickly ran to the car fumbling for my keys to drive back to my parents, I'll just tell them I wanted to stay one more night with them. As I exited the driveway I risked a glance up and saw, no thought I saw, a shimmering translucent man standing in the window. Great, at least i know the first party i'll be having here, a seance.

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RE: Haunted House - 5/12

Postby Celina Simplicity. » Wed Jul 08, 2009 10:02 am

My job as an actress brought the money rolling in. It's what kept my family and I afloat for nearly five years. My husband Christopher, a small time lawyer in Los Angeles, also 'brought home the bacon', for lack of a better phrase, but never quite as much as I did. I never gloated upon it, though. I had two children, Angeline and Andrew, and they were always Mommy's little angels. I was always looking for new places for acting jobs, even if they were only in minor, low budget films, and I managed to find a new director in a small town in Georgia, called Bellwood. He said he had saw my films, and he gladly agreed to take me as his lead role. I was ecstatic. Matthew Tremont, that was the director's name, told me that it might take a year or so to finish the movie. I told Chris, and he suggested that we move to Georgia for a short while. I told the kids - they were just as happy as I was - and it was a go.

Barely a week later, we pulled up into the driveway of this gorgeous two-story house. It was all white aside from the dark green shutters, recently painted. There were about four or five stone steps leading to the porch and then one evenly sized one leading into the house itself. The yard was green, very green, and closely cut. There were flowers planted around the house as well. They all seemed unnaturally tall; almost as if they were the result of someone watering them too much. "Kids, here we are!" I had said, my enthusiasm nearly overflowing. I couldn't wait to finally unpack my belongings and explore the town. As I looked over and saw Angeline's bright blue eyes looking over at the house, I knew she felt the same way. Andrew, on the other hand, looking a bit apprehensive. "What's wrong, sweetie?" I asked as we all piled out from the Mazda5. He looked at the house, then at me. He smiled reluctantly and said, "Nothing, Mommy. It's just gonna feel weird sleeping in a new house." I looked at him for a slight moment longer before accepting the answer. Chris and I began to unpack the things from the car as the children ran off to go play on the swingset in the backyard.

The night was calm. It was around nine o' clock, and the kids had already gone off to bed. After all, it was a long day. I kissed Chris's cheek lightly as we laid on our king sized mattress. "The house is lovely, no?"
"Indeed it is, sweetie. I think the kids are going to love it here."
"I think they are, too."
He smiled at me, kissed my lips softly for a beat or three, and extinguished the bedside lamp. "Good night, Lisa. Get some rest; we have a lot of stuff to do tomorrow." He kissed me once more before his head hit the pillow and he fell asleep. I laid on my back, glancing up at the dark ceiling. Soon I began to drift off (don't ask me what time, I think it was about ten), and I dreamt of the overgrown flowers and the swingset and the green grass. It was a pleasant dream - until I awoke to a clattering sound coming from the kitchen area downstairs.

My eyes snapped open, and I was once again looking up at the blank ceiling. I gave a glance over to Chris, who was still sound asleep. How can he sleep with all that racket? I remembered thinking to myself. I glanced at the bright red numbers that shown on the clock: 3:14 AM. I sighed and rubbed my tired eyes. Might as well go find out what fell. I wish I hadn't.

I descended the polished wood staircase in my dark blue slippers and white silk night robe, working my way to the kitchen area. I flipped the switch, expecting to see a pan or two lying on the floor - but there was nothing. Puzzled, I walked through the rest of the downstairs area; the living room, the dining room, the bathroom - nothing. Everything was how we left it before falling asleep. Maybe there's a ghost in here, I thought, but then laughed aloud. "Silly Lisa," I said to the darkness, "there's no such thing as ghosts." I sighed and turned off the lights, walking back up the stairs. And that's when I saw it. It was a quick, black shadow moving toward the living room. I stopped in mid step, slowly turning around, half expecting to see a burglar standing at the bottom of my staircase. But once again, there was nothing there. Just darkness.

I walked the rest of the way up the stairs at a fast pace, when once again the sound of something clattering to the floor echoed through the house. I spun and looked back down the steps, holding onto the hand rail for support. "Who's there?" I called out, trying to make my voice seem stronger than it was. I failed incredibly and was answered with silence. "Who's there?!" I asked again, my voice more urgent. Silence. My heart began to pound in my chest and my legs began to tremble. As I looked over the banister, I saw them - a young girl and a slightly older boy holdign her hand, enriched in a bright light that didn't seem possible. They both stared up at me with sorrowful eyes, eyes that begged me to hold them close as if they were my own. I wanted to back away slowly but found that I was rooted to that spot. I wanted to stop staring at the two golden children but I couldn't help myself. "Who are you?" I whispered. I saw their lips move but heard no sound. I leaned in more closely over the banister as their lips began to move again. I could make out one word, and one word only: "Mother." They were calling me mother. But I didn't know these children! How could I be their mother, when my kids were safe and sound upstairs, sleeping?

Their lips moved again, and once more I leaned in close - too close. The last thing I saw was the boys' free hand reaching for me before I fell to my demise. At last, I was reunited with my children from another life, from another time.



Okay, so, I know this is WAY over 500 words (actually it's 1,086, if you want to be exact >.<) but I got really into it and I couldn't stop. Sorry!

kref
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Re: Haunted House - 5/12

Postby kref » Mon Jul 13, 2009 7:06 am

The Peabody house was all I ever wanted. For once, a housing recession worked in my favor, arriving shortly after I paid off all our bills with life insurance proceeds. It cut the price of this Victorian beauty to my range.

Or was it actually what she always wanted? After 27 years of intertwined emotion and body, I can’t remember where my feelings stopped and where Kate’s started. Kate and I met the Peabody’s at church and often visited them over the years, playing a quiet game of hearts or pinochle while listening to Adolf’s collection of jazz standards. Sometimes they would politely tolerate one of our soft rock albums, but it was apparent they didn’t consider that to be real music. On the ride home, we always renovated, hung curtains, and added a first floor bathroom in our minds.

Even when the realtor jumped at every unexplained creek or chilling breeze, I felt something supernaturally welcoming in each of this painted lady’s idiosyncrasies. When the movers became so startled at an imagined apparition in the doorway of the summer kitchen that they refused to enter any room without me entering first, I was mainly amused at hearing these 250 pound weight lifters scream like frightened little girls. Either way, I had to move from our old place. It was now haunted by awful memories of the night she was so brutally attacked and killed.

Joan Peabody would have understood how I felt. She was in their 90’s when her Adolf passed. As often happens with close elderly couples, she only survived him by a few months. The cynics call it an unhealthy co-dependency, but these cynics never experienced a true spiritual interdependency that blesses the lives of some couples. Once, when Kate and I had a fight, Joan said it would pass, that we had that same spark they had. She promised me that we would grow old in love together as they had. It’s a twisted blessing that Joan didn’t live to see what happened to Kate, because it would have broken her heart as much as it did mine.

The house had sat sadly unoccupied for 3 years, as the Peabody children, all living overseas, fought over its disposition. Finally tiring of paying upkeep and taxes as it slipped in value, they removed a few things that each really wanted, and sold me not only the house, but much of the antique furniture and accessories that made it so charming and authentic. A voice seemed to guide me in the placement of the possessions I collected lovingly with Kate over the years. Eclectic as it was, they blend decently with those collected by my elderly predecessors.

Nonetheless, I wander from room to room, seeking one thing that would make this house truly my home. I hear Louis Armstrong’s music and the shuffling of cards coming from the back parlor. I approach longingly, eager to join the card game that I know is in process, but cannot fully see.

JaimeW
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RE: Haunted House - 5/12

Postby JaimeW » Tue Jul 14, 2009 6:24 am

I was alone in bed, a grown woman feeling like a scared little girl and hating every second of it. Another of those horrible, unearthly moans came, this one sounding more like a sob than the others. “Don’t be such a girl,” I murmured to myself as I shuddered. It was my first house, and I’d gotten a great deal from that sweet realtor. I was determined to make it work.
Unfortunately for my homeowner-dream, I started hearing noises as soon as it got dark. Your classic bump-in-the-night, unearthly-moan type stuff. I was sure it all had a logical explanation.
The bumps? Some rodent living in the walls. My new-to-me house dated back to the 1880’s, and a time when stuffing a wall with crumpled newspapers was a legitimate form of insulation. Most likely, mice had been bedding down there for generations. They were probably scurrying back and forth in my walls all night, and thus I heard bumps.
Never mind that the bumps were loud, like a drunken man reeling in the hallway. It was mice, and that was that, and I’d set out traps in the morning.
The unearthly moaning was wind whistling through that old chimney. I had noticed how drafty the house was that day as I unpacked. I followed it to the source and found a huge energy-draw in the shape of an old cast-iron furnace. I’d have to call someone and see about getting a nice, efficient, chimney-less heat source before winter. I had a huge chimney flue on a windy night, and thus I heard unearthly moans.
Never mind that the sound I heard when I was inspecting the furnace was nothing like the heartbroken sounds of a hurting man that I heard now. It was the chimney, dang it, and nothing else.
“Don’t be such a girl,” I repeated to myself.
I had to go to the bathroom, and bad. But maybe I’d just wait until daylight to walk across that cold floor. After all, I was unprotected in my nightie, and I’d have to go into the hallway—.
“Stop it,” I said aloud. “No being a girl!”
I stood up. I was going to go to the bathroom, and I was going to go now. Why? Because I wasn’t scared. Why wasn’t I scared? Because there was nothing to be scared of.
So I did it. I marched across the floor and into the hall and into the bathroom like a big, not-scared grown-up woman, and I bravely flipped the light switch and then—.
Then, I just about wet myself.
I turned and ran, right out of the house, grabbing my car keys and purse as I raced out the door. I’d spend tonight in a hotel. Then I’d call that horrible realtor and tell her that the house was back on the market, because I didn’t want a haunted house.
Especially one haunted by a man who left up the toilet seat.

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RE: Haunted House - 5/12

Postby camstermom » Tue Jul 21, 2009 10:04 am

The movers finally pulled their van out of the driveway and left the premises...at last I was able to jump up and down, running from room to room with glee without any onlookers...I was HOME!!! My very first home and it was perfect; a large turn of the century victorian big enough to get lost in. But first I had to unpack.

After my victory dance, I headed into the kitchen to get started there. A sea of boxes convered the counters, anxiously awaited me to clear them of their contents. I sighed looking at them, "Better get to it," I murmmered to myself, as I picked up a box of glasses.

"I would think so," came a male voice from somewhere behind me. My heart jumped into my throat as I spun around, dropping the glasses and shattering them, startling me further.

The movers must've come back for something, I surmised, hoping they didn't actually witness my shenanigans, however upon inspection of the driveway, I saw no sign of them. I called out inside; no one answered. Checking both doors, I found them locked. I knew I had heard something...or had I? Maybe it was my imagination...I was also quite tired as it had been a long day. Still, I needed to prove to myself that no one else was in the house.

Feeling a bit silly, I went from room to room, checking. Of course, I found no one. With my nerves calmed, I headed back down the stairs to the kitchen. Halfway down I thought I heard clanking noises coming from dpwnstairs. Old houses make noise, plain and simple, and I'd had to get used to it, I told myself as I re-entered the kitchen. This time instead of the glasses hitting the floor, it was my jaw...ALL the boxes were unpacked and the empty carboard containters were stacked on top of each other, to the ceiling in the middle of the room!

My heart pounding, I bolted for the front door, screaming for dear life. Once outside I felt my knees give way then all went black.

I awoke later in the hospital as concerned neighbor had called 911. "You passed out," the nurse told me as I came to, "Your nieghbor said you were screaming before you fainted and when you came in, you looked as white as a ghost...did something frighten you?"

How could I possibly answer that without them hauling me off to the funny farm...

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