The Old House

A creak bellowed from the inside of the house to the outside, almost a groan. The Windows fogged methodically, accentuating hand prints. There were no children playing, or women gardening, or men grilling.

The silence was deafening, and seemed to build pressure in the atmosphere.

“I dare you to go in there…” He said, a thin smile pulling his face.

“No way man!” He hissed.

The wind blew fiercely, seeming to come from the house itself.

She shivered, hugging herself.

“Here, take this.” He said, handing her his slightly torn jacket.

“Thank you.” She was blushing.

“Oh you pussy, why’d you give her your coat?” He whined.

“Umm… Because she’s cold… And because she’s scared, and so am I.”

“Just go in there, you’ll be fine.”

“No!”

He yelled, and the house echoed back, “No!” It burped noises and scratching sounds, shaking the foundation.

They all took a step back, and she went for his hand, gripping it tightly. He gave her a quick look, then stared back at the house.

“Ok, that’s it. Either you go in that house… Or… Or I’ll tell everyone at school about how you two are in love!” He shouted, pointing at them both.

“Fine, I’ll go in. But it’s not because you threatened me!” He snapped back.

“Be careful!” She yelled, almost refusing to let go of his hand. “I… I don’t want anything to happen to you…”

“I’ll be ok, I’m just going to walk in, and then walk out.”

He took a few steps forward, feeling the back of his neck prickling. He let out a low moan of nervousness, catching the wind and rattling the dead air.

A giant gust caught a noise from the house, bringing it out and into the boy’s face.

“That was a scream.” He whispered, taking a step back.

“Keep going you idiot!” The other boy shouted.

“Be careful. You don’t have to do this!” She was frowning, tears crawling down her face.

He ran back, and put his hands up to her face, wiping it clean with his thumb. She smiled, and kissed his cheek. Then he paced all the way to the door, and turned around.

“There’s nothing here, can I go back now?”

“Just take a couple of steps inside, then you can come back.”

He pushed the door open entirely, and walked inside, still visible to them.

He shrugged, and then cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed, “Can I come back now?”

“Yea, I guess.”

He started to take a step, but froze solid. Something was on his shoulder, gripping tightly. He turned slightly, and saw a long, bony hand.

“Hello?” He asked the darkness.

No one answered, the hand only tightened.

He looked back at the kids. Their jaws had dropped, and a small squeak was coming from the boy’s gaping mouth.

“RUN MAN, RUN!” He said, finally able to talk.

He tried to run, but the hand pulled back.

The door slammed shut, and a stifled scream came from between the cracks.

“NO!” She yelled, running at the house.

“Don’t go, don’t go in!” He said, grabbing her and trying to hold her back.

She shook her way free, and bounded toward the house, opening the door and running in without stopping.

“Oh god.” He cried, going to the house and looking inside.

“Damn it!”

He slowly crept inside, tears hitting the floor.

The door swayed, then shut tight.

…No noise could be heard.

…The air was musty.

A creak bellowed from the inside of the house to the outside, almost a groan. The Windows fogged methodically, accentuating hand prints. There were no children playing, or women gardening, or men grilling.

Three kids walked to the house, stopping and jumping in the bushes.

“I dare you to go in there…” One of the kids said.

…And the story ends where it begins…