57 Orchid Road

Her pace quickened in the dead of night. Fallen leaves, crisp from the cold weather, rustled around the streets empty pathway. All the hidden alleyways and dark corners just didn’t suit the pretty petite town they had been placed into, which led to Anne’s confusion about the place. Why had all the houses been abandoned and why was that perfect little children’s play ground never touched? These questions are two of the many Anne used to ask yet no one would ever talk about the old abandoned Orchid Road.

Sat down, at the small marble breakfast bar, Anne sipped on her steaming mug of coffee and flicked through the local paper. She stopped suddenly and looked up at the back of her husband’s head, whilst he made himself a quick breakfast before he had to rush off to work.

“Mark?” Her chirpy voice rang out into the large spacious kitchen.

“Yes?” He turned around abruptly to see his wife looking straight at him.

“I was thinking about doing an article on Orchid Road, you know, about why the houses are empty and why everything has been left: What do you think?” Mark looked deep into the twenty eight year olds eyes and sighed with discomfort.

“Honey, do you really think that’s a good idea? I mean that street has been abandoned for a reason.”

“Exactly and I want to learn about that reason. I became a journalist because I wanted to write exciting things, like the robbery that happened last week, not about the ninety two year old man that lost his cat. This could be my big break!”

“I’m just worried,” His eyes were sad and filled with worry as he placed his hand on top of hers.

“Don’t be. I’m old enough to make decisions on my own if you’re not going to support me,” Anne’s voice was cold. She pulled her hand away from his and stood up abruptly.

“Anyway I need to get to work, and so do you,” Mark nodded meekly and felt shame pulse through his body, like a small child being told off by a parent. He knew that he should support her but Orchid Road held too many secrets and mysteries in its heart that weren’t meant to be told.

The small clicking sound of heels colliding with the beech surface could be heard as Anne swiftly made her way into the department she worked in. A few miserable greetings were thrown at her as she passed the many desks that filled the large dull room. She hoped she would never turn out like that, miserable and smoking three packets of cigarettes a day due to deadlines and stress. Sitting down in her comfortable black leather chair, she began to type the first lines of the ‘Orchid Road’ article, which had yet to be approved by her boss.

The large office engulfed Anne, Mr Talson’s world of achievement clearly visible everywhere. She glanced at the many plaques that were nailed onto the sickly orange walls. The click of the door opening filled the silence of the room. It was such a small sound yet it sounded much louder due to the silence surrounding the room. Mr Talson’s heavy footsteps made their way past Anne, who sat nervously in the large chair, situated in front of his desk.

“So you wanted to suggest an idea?” Mr Talson was a man of big build and he always seemed to be smiling as well as enthusiastic.

“Yes sir, I was thinking about doing an article on Orchid Road,” Anne was full of nerves as she really wanted to do this and the experience would be good for her career.

“Oh! Mrs Taylor that’s a wonderful idea. I can’t wait to read it. Maybe you should stay over night in one of the houses so that you can get a full understanding of the surroundings,” Mr Talson exclaimed excitedly.

“Well thank you sir. I’ll use your idea but first I’ll do some research,” Anne’s smile stretched across the width of her face.

Newspapers, coloured with time, lay before Anne who was studying them in depth. Corny headlines such as ‘The Grey Lady Kills Again’, did not faze her at all.

“Ghost stories, just a load of ghost stories,” She kept muttering dryly into the empty house. All the articles had been written at least twenty years previously and technology had become more advanced since then, so what was to stop Anne thinking that detectives could have been wrong and that the people had just fled for legal reasons or, they had been killed by accident. What ever had really happened didn’t matter to Anne at that moment. However what did matter to her, was to find the house with the most history to it. After half an hour of searching newsprint, she finally found what she was looking for.

‘Sophia Fisher was found dead, along with her three children Michelle, Nickolas and Jasmine, in their house down Orchid Road. Officials had confirmed that there were no finger prints found on the scene, or on any of the bodies. he way the family were killed was identical to the killing of the Montage family, who were killed three months before hand.’

Anne was ecstatic, she was now ready to start her article. The two dead families didn’t seem to spook her at all.

Mark paced the dusty room restlessly.

“Are you really sure you don’t want me to stay with you?” He asked his calm wife.

“Completely. I need to do this on my own so that I don’t get distracted,” Mark still wasn’t keen on leaving Anne on her own, but he loved her and therefore respected her decision.

“Ok, but remember to ring me at nine ok?”

“Fine, but go now, or you’ll be late for your meeting,” Anne laughed slightly as she playfully pushed her husband out of the front door and into the grey front garden.

“All right, see you soon,” He kissed her cheek and then turned and left through the rusted gate.

The whole house was plunged into darkness except for the small lamp that lit up the front room where Anne was situated. Her pen scratched against the paper of her notebook, writing down every detail of the house. It was only eight o’clock but due to it being the middle of winter, it was already pitch black. The dirty white phone began to ring a loud annoying sound, causing Anne to jump in surprise. Curiously, she walked over to the phone in the corner of the room and slowly picked it up.

“Hello?” A crackling sound filled her ears, soon to be followed by a woman’s voice, which seemed to have roughened in time.

“Tick tock,” The voice spoke calmly.

“Who is this? I don’t think you have the right number,” Anne spoke in a confused tone.

“Tick tock, the blood won’t stop,” Annoyed, yet confused, she hung up the phone and was about to turn away when it started ringing again. Hesitantly, Anne picked it up and held it to her ear.

“Tick tock, the blood won’t stop, falling from your husband’s body,” As the scratchy voice spoke these words, Anne’s heart nearly stopped beating.

“Whoever you are, stop it, this isn’t funny,” She tried to keep her voice steady but nerves had over run her body.

“Oh, but Mrs Taylor, who is playing the game here, you or me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” The fact that Anne hadn’t even mentioned who she was didn’t come into mind, just confusion of the strange woman herself.

“But I’m sure you do, Anne. So due to you trespassing in my house, I’ll trespass in yours,” Anne’s mouth was dry causing it to feel like sand paper. She glanced nervously around the room before finally turning her attention back to the phone call.