Death's House

By

Rose Marie Wolf

Part One

It all started with Ronda, my next door neighbor. Two weeks ago, on a Wednesday afternoon, she snapped. The normally quiet, withdrawn and reclusive old woman ran out of her home, screaming.

Her long grey hair, usually tied in a harsh knot at the top of her head, streamed wildly around her. Her clothes were soiled and wrinkled, her face white and her eyes bulging with fear. All she could do was stand in the street with her long bony finger pointed at her front porch and shriek.

I had been busy in the front yard, cutting weeds from a patch of tulips by my living room window when it happened. I stood up, immediately shocked. I didn't know this lady very well. She was new to the neighborhood, finally purchasing the old forgotten house no one seemed to want. We had only conversed a few times but I knew she was very uptight and stern. This was not like her at all. She struck me as the type of woman who would not be seen with her hair down, much less in this state. It was with great concern that I ran to her side.

"What's wrong, Ronda?" I asked. I reached to touch her shoulder. At first, she didn't register my presence. She still wailed and began to claw at her hair. Her long, yellow fingernails tore at her thin hair and scalp. It soon became pink with blood. I saw that long, deep scratches already covered both her arms. I was scared.

"Ronda?" I began, more gently. "Is someone in your house?" Perhaps a burglar may have tried to climb in through a window or a back door. "Did someone try to hurt you?"

But she didn't answer me. She didn't even look at me. Her mouth twisted into an ugly grimace and she sank to her knees in the middle of the hot asphalt.

"He's there!" She screamed. She climbed to her feet, using my arm as a crutch. For an old lady, she was pretty strong and she dug her fingernails into my arm like claws. "He's there! I've seen him with my own eyes!"

"Who?" I asked, again thinking of a break-in. I turned my eyes to her forlorn looking house. The old Victorian house was dark and foreboding. Her renewed cries caught my immediate attention and I was forced to turn to face her once more.

"The devil! The red eyes! I have seen him!" She stared at me with her bloodshot eyes. Her breath smelled rank. From up close, she looked much older than I had thought. Every wrinkle stood out. Her sallow skin made me sick. I tried to push her away, but her grip was incredible.

I didn’t want to look at her; her appearance was horrible. Her putrid breath made my eyes water. I finally had to turn away. My gaze lingered on her house again for a long moment. What was wrong with this woman?

No sooner had I thought this, I saw something flash in the window. A shadow emerged from the curtains and stood in the window. There was something there. I felt a chill run down my spine. Ronda screamed beside me and lost her footing as she too saw it. She hit her knees again. She let go of my arm and I stepped forward, away from her.

There was something entrancing about the shadow in the window. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. I moved slowly toward the edge of her grass. She stopped me by grabbing my ankle in her vice-like grip. For a split second, I thought I saw a pair of red hot coals on the pane, but then it was gone.

I looked down at Ronda. Blood poured from her scalp. It trickled through her thin grey hair and along her temple.

"Don't go! Don't go in there!" She pointed one finger at the house, shaking it wildly as if she were punishing a naughty child. "Don't!"

“This is insane,” I said, more to myself than her. I somehow pried her hand from my ankle and hoisted her to her feet. Sirens sounded loudly in the distance. Someone, one of our nosy neighbors, must've called the authorities. I wasn't really surprised. If I hadn't been out here and involved, if I hadn't seen what I had seen, I would've done the same.

Ronda did not let go of me, not until the ambulance and police cars arrived and they pried her away. I rubbed my arms where biting indentions had been left by her nails. She was livid as they pulled her away and her screams multiplied. But soon, she was sedated and resting in the back of an ambulance.

I hovered near the edge of her yard, my attention drawn inexplicably to the house. There had always been something strange about it. What had old Ronda Steward seen? What sparked her to lose her mind? The police approached me for questioning. I answered them truthfully, without hesitation.

“Where were you when she started acting like this?”

“In the garden, tending to my flowers.”

“Has she ever done this before?”

“Not to my knowledge, no.” My eyes drifted back to the house. The officials hung around the cars. They seemed to be discussing Ronda, and yet no one had entered the house to investigate the cause of her madness. This struck me as odd. I didn't get much chance to think on it. The officer questioning me had asked another question.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

“Do you have any idea what sorts of medications Mrs. Steward may be on?”

“No. We’ve never talked much. She moved in last month. I've only spoken to her a few times.”

"Do you know if she has any next of kin? A husband, or children perhaps?"

"Her husband died years ago. I don't know if she has any children."

“Could we have your name, please, for the record?"

"Melinda Menard." I said. The officer jotted it down on his notepad.

"Thank you for your time, Ms. Menard." I watched the young man walk away then turned back to the house. What had spooked her so horribly? What was it she had seen? Was it the same thing I had glimpsed in the window? I had to know. Why weren't they checking into it?

“Excuse me,” I called, flagging down the nearest police officer. The young man turned to me and lifted an eyebrow.

"Yes?" He answered, haughtily. He sounded annoyed.

"Why isn't anyone going into the house? Whatever may have caused her to act like this may still be there. It could be a burglar. I saw something in the window."

The officer looked at me as if I were incredibly stupid.

"It's a psychological disorder. It's all in her head. She's just cracked. Nothing inside that house could've caused it."

"Have you ever seen anything like this?" I asked, and I hated to admit it but my tone had turned a little haughty itself.

"Look, lady, I am not an expert. I don't know anything about it, but this woman has definitely snapped. She's old. Her mind probably wasn't stable anyway. It's all in her head. All psychological."

"Some expert you are…" I muttered under my breath, but he seemed oblivious to the comment. I spoke a bit louder. "But I thought I saw something…"

"Probably just a shadow…" He said in a cold, disinterested voice.

"Are you sure?" I wanted to be certain. I knew I saw something. I knew what happened to Ronda was not normal. I wasn't a doctor but I knew this wasn't a normal case of psychosis. Something was wrong. I could feel it. "Won't someone please check it out?"

"I'll see what I can do," The officer said in the same cold tone. It was very insincere. "If you don't mind, ma'am, I have work to do." He brushed past me and didn’t look back. I sighed and stood there with my hand on my hip as the cars and officials took their leave. I caught a faint glimpse of Ronda, shaking her head ferociously as the ambulance drove away. A few of my neighbors watched from their doorways and from behind the safety of their glass windows. Did they really care what was going on?

The window blinds began to close as the neighbors became disinterested. It suited me just fine. I always found them too nosy for their own good. I returned to my gardening, but my heart was no longer in it. I sat there in the patch of earth I had dug up and stared at the dark house across the hedge.

I couldn't get it off my mind. The thought was overpowering me. I wanted to find out. I had to know. It captivated me.

I gathered my gardening tools and put them away on the porch. It was growing late in the afternoon and I had other things to do. I couldn't stay outside any longer. The house sent goose-bumps up my arms.

Once inside, and out of the shadow of the dark house, I felt a sense of relief. I didn't have to worry about the house or Ronda, or anything related to it. It wasn't my problem.

But I couldn't deny what I had seen. I couldn't deny Ronda's madness. Her shrieks still sounded inside my head. I could still see the fresh blood as it ran red down her face. I shook the images out of my head and reminded myself there was nothing I could've done anyway. Maybe the police were right. Maybe she had just snapped. She was old, after all.

Maybe she didn't snap. Maybe something set her off…

"No, don't think that," I said out loud to myself. I put it out of my head as I washed and redressed. I went about my chores. Darkness fell and the night came warm and humid. It was only when I had begun to prepare a late supper for my husband and I that it crossed my mind once more.

Joel was working late, as he had been the past three months. I suspected some blonde hottie at the office had taken his attention and he was having an affair. It was just as well. We had not been on good terms for the past year or so. I was thinking about how quickly a divorce would solve most of our problems when a light from the dark house startled me out of my thoughts.

The window above the kitchen sink was a perfect view point to the house. It shone directly over the hedge and into Ronda's immaculately kept yard. A dim light burned in a room near the back of the house, giving an eerie blue-white glow to the window ledge. I dropped the potatoes I was washing and stared intently at the light.

It pulsed. Did Ronda leave a light on somewhere in the house? It didn't seem likely. It was broad daylight when she left. There was no need for a light and besides, I hadn't noticed it before.

"Odd…" I whisper, once more intrigued by the mysteries surrounding the house. Once more I felt a longing to know what really happened to Ronda. I couldn't get the image of the wailing old lady from my mind. I could still see her yellow and cracked nails digging red into her skin. I shuddered a bit and shut off the running water.

I drew my attention away from the light in the window just long enough to glance at the kitchen clock above my head. It was a quarter until nine. Dinner could wait a few minutes longer. Joel wouldn't be home until he and his lady friend were done, I knew. I dried my hands on the dishtowel and grabbed a flashlight from the drawer.

I had been right in my earlier assumptions. No one came back out to the house. No one investigated the house at all. I was still convinced that whatever caused Ronda to snap was still there. The blue glow had to be something. I was determined to find out.

I crept out the front door and down the sidewalk. It was warm out, but no one was outside enjoying the evening weather. I found it a bit odd, but didn't press on the thought. I hurried down the sidewalk and stepped into the yard.

No sooner had my foot touched the grass, I felt a strange electric chill run through my entire body. It caused me to jump and shiver and I almost dropped my flashlight. It was a sensation I had never felt before. Fear gripped me. There was something wrong here.

Common sense told me to turn back, but I didn't listen. Curiosity got the better of me and I continued forward. Each step brought me closer to the consuming darkness of the house. My fear grew. I could sense something unnatural about the house.

My heart pounded loudly. The sound throbbed in my ears. I stopped just long enough to try to calm myself down. I took several deep breaths, aware suddenly of how heavily I had been gasping. I held my free hand over my heart but the quick beats would not slow.

All my life I had been the sensible, practical and level-headed one of my family, of my friends. I didn't believe in superstitions. I didn’t believe in ghosts, or demons, or haunted houses. Why was this place creeping me out?

I resumed walking and was soon climbing up the wooden steps of the porch. A thought suddenly occurred to me: What about the locks on the door? Embarrassment flooded my cheeks, even though there was no one there to see it. I hadn't thought about it and I was sure Ronda didn't keep a key under a fake rock in the yard. I touched the doorknob just the same.

It turned easily in my hand, and to my surprise, opened to reveal the dark front room of her home. It made sense. She must've forgotten to lock it on her flight out. I pushed the door open a bit more and flicked on the flashlight. A beam of yellow light illuminated the Oriental rug in front of the doorway. I swung the flashlight so that the light shone widely around the room.

I had never set foot inside Ronda’s house before. It was an old Victorian home, with much of the furnishings set in the same design. The light spread over the rose patterned wallpaper and over the glass curio cabinet where the light reflected on the door beside me. I took a few careful steps inside.

Considering how spooky the place felt, I left the door open as I ventured further inside. The rug gave way to hardwood flooring that creaked slightly as I put weight down on it. Pictures lined the wall of the hallway. My flashlight trailed over them, but didn’t linger. I kept my eyes straight ahead.

I could see the blue-white light grow stronger and brighter as I neared it. It lit the end of the hall. It was nearly blinding and I squinted as I neared it. Goose-bumps pimpled my arms and the tiny hairs stood on end. Something really didn’t feel right. I fought the urge to turn around and leave.

Something cold brushed by me and I shuddered. It had to be a vent, I told myself. Did places this old have central air? I wasn’t sure. My stomach felt uneasy. This was a bad place and I knew it.

Still, I moved on. As I neared the light, I could make out the shadows of the doorway in which it was contained. The door was wide open and swung ever so slightly with the pulsing of the light. I could feel the pulsing from where I stood. It shook through me.

I dropped the flashlight but I didn’t need it anymore. The light was captivating and beautiful. I drew closer toward it. I could see the shadows of furniture in the room: the corner of a desk and a chair lying on its side, paintings askew on the wall.

I paused in the doorway to this room, now completely immersed in the enchanting glow. I narrowed my eyes, to peer better into the light. White edged outward from a dark blue-black center that seemed to swirl outward from a mirror against the wall. Shocked at what I saw, my mouth dropped open.

What was this? I could feel the pulsing, the drawing energy that compelled me forward. I didn’t want to, but my feet could not stop. I eased out of the doorway and toward the light.

I was aware that my heart was pounding much louder than before. The blood-rush sound filled my ears. I could hear nothing else. The light blinded me. I couldn't see.

Sudden panic grabbed hold of me. I was trapped. I was caught. This thing was pulling me toward it, like some sort of vortex. And I couldn’t fight it.

Was this what made Ronda lose it? What was this thing? I strode closer to it. My hand stretched out, shaking as it meant to touch the light and the mirror from which it came from. I tried to stop myself, but my body was resistant. As I struggled to withdraw my arm, the light grew brighter. I could feel an icy chill coming from it. What was this thing? Why was it here?

“No, no…” I whispered. I braced myself, digging my feet into the carpet on the floor, but for all the weight I held back, I continued to creep forward. I didn’t want to be here. I never should’ve come here. It was all a bad idea. I could not go back now, I realized.

I gripped hold of the doorframe quickly. My fingernails dug into the wood finish, leaving deep indentions. It was of no use. As I pulled myself toward the door, something happened. Everything became cloudy. Why had I come here? What was this irresistible thing? The pull of the portal, or whatever it was, and the temptation to get closer overwhelmed my senses. All practical intuition was gone.

I moved forward slowly, as if walking in a dream and released the doorframe. I walked closer until my fingertips were only inches from touching the brilliant light. Its icy coldness did not register a temperature to my body. I did not feel it.

I took one final step and stood before the swirling lights of the mirror. The magnetic-like pull ceased to draw me further into it. I stared in awe as black shadows began to emerge from within the mirror, from within the portal.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move at all. Only my eyes moved as they widened to take everything in. The black shadows came together to form one solid figure that grew larger as it neared.

My senses returned and they screamed for me to run. My body wouldn’t move. My mouth dropped open in a scream.

What I had thought were red hot coals in the window was a pair of eyes sunken into a ghastly white skull. Sharp fangs took place of where teeth should’ve been. There was no nose. With a horrible smile, the figure emerged from the mirror and stood before me. A loud buzzing drowned out my screams. It flooded my head and my senses yet again. It was unbearable. A sharp stench permeated from him, something like sulfur.

The last thing I beheld before turning away and finally running down the hall was the long, bone-white fingers of the creature as it reached for me. Its fiery eyes followed me in the darkness. The buzzing was gone. My screams returned to me as I ran.