57 Orchid Road

“What do you mean ‘your’ house?”

“Just think, your husband could have been at his meeting an hour ago,” The voice tormented her.

“How do you know about his meeting?” She wasn’t sure what was happening, was this conversation merely a figment of her imagination or was it as real as the moth fluttering around the lamp?

“I know much more than his meeting, I know that he’s hanging right now with stab wounds in his chest,” The voice let out a small sick laugh before the line went dead. Anne stood paralysed to the spot. Thoughts raced through her head as she began to shake. It could have been just a prank call, but then again, how would they have known about the meeting? The fingers of an old oak tree outside the house, began to tap on the dirty glass because of the gale force winds outside. She stepped over to the unlit fire and carefully set alight the dry wood. Once lit she rubbed her hands together in an attempt to get rid of the goose bumps plaguing her body. A large mirror hung above the blazing fire, which she casually glanced into but had to do a double take when she saw some one else in the mirror behind her. Turning around she gasped to see the back of a woman. A woman wearing a Victorian style dress with her hair scraped back into a bun.

“Who are you?” Anne’s voice shook with fright as the woman slowly turned to look at her. Blood pulsed thick and fast through her system when her icey blue eyes met with the woman’s that were blood shot.

“I told you, you were trespassing and I warned you, yet you’re still here,” The same scratchy voice spoke out. The woman’s cheeks had long scratches down them, looking like scratches from a human fighting for its life. Anne couldn’t help but stare at the stranger and felt incredibly faint.

“Who are you?” She repeated, yet she didn’t sound demanding and strong, just weak and scared.

“Don’t play with the forces you can’t control Anne dear,” The woman warned with a tongue dripping with venom. Before Anne could react, the woman had faded into thin air. What was happening, Anne could not explain. The heat from the fire was heating the room slowly as Anne stood paralysed to the old creaky floorboards.

After a while of thinking, she walked back over to the phone and decided to ring Mark as it was coming to nine o’clock. As she put the phone to her ear, she heard nothing. No dial tone, no voices, nothing. Confused, she glanced at the wire to see it had been ripped apart and the wires had frayed.The phone hit the floor with a loud crack, like a bone had snapped in its neck. Anne felt the need to be rid of the house and its antics. Quickly, she grabbed her notebook and slipping it into her pocket. She swiftly made her way to the front door but as her hand touched the metal handle, a burning sensation shot through her body. She stared at the door handle as it sizzled slightly before a teardrop of silver fell to the floor as if the intense heat was making it weep.

“Tick tock, the blood won’t stop, falling from your husband’s body,” The voice repeated as heat pumped through the door. Anne felt like she was going insane. She felt danger yet her brain told her to just sit back and relax. Frantically, she brought her foot up and kicked next to the door handle with all her strength. The old slightly cracked door swung open and hit the wall outside. She rushed out of the doorway and down the crooked path to the bottom where she had to stop to open the rusty gate. She felt someone breathing on the back of her neck, which was followed by the sound of heavy breathing.

“Leave and never come back,” Anne gasped loudly as a stinging pain attacked her upper arm. She looked down to see a large gash piercing through her sweater and skin. Fumbling with the gate, she then began to run down the street, clutching her right arm trying to prevent the sticky blood from falling. She looked back at the house to see the woman’s faint body stood at the gate watching her run from the insanity the house brought.

Breathlessly she arrived outside her large detached house. She fumbled with her key and then shakily slid it into the lock whilst every so often glancing behind her to make sure no one had followed her.

“Mark?” She yelled into the house. The eerie silence spooked her. He should have been home at least half an hour previously. A strong metallic smell filled her nostrils.

“Mark?” She frantically called out again. She rushed through to the kitchen and flicked the light switch on. She let out a gasp in horror as she saw Mark’s lifeless body hanging with a noose around his neck. A knife had cut deeply down the centre of his chest and there were also two other stab wounds.

“No, no, no!” She screamed out and lunged forward to the bloody mess of the hanging body. A puddle of blood below his feet caused her to unselfconsciously repeat the words of the strange woman.

“Tick tock, the blood won’t stop, falling from your husband’s body,” She sobbed uncontrollably as her world faded into complete darkness.

Mark shone his torch on the old oak door and tried the rusting metal handle. The door creaked open into the dark abandoned house, he was going to turn back and pretend that the whole thing hadn’t happened but couldn’t as his friends were stood at the rusted gate watching his every move.

“This is the most stupidest dare ever,” Mark hissed, causing them all to smirk in his direction.

“Not scared are you?” Billy taunted. The fourteen year old rolled his eyes and shook his head before advancing into the darkness. He’d only wanted to hang out with his friends but no, they just had to force him to do that. The thing that none of them knew was that in fourteen years, that event would kill him and his precious wife who, at the age of fourteen, he still had to meet. 16th October was the date that he secured his fate, the date he secured his future wife’s fate and the date he played with forces he couldn’t control. A foul smell filled his nostrils, causing vomit to creep up the back of his throat. He pulled his winter scarf from his neck and held it over his mouth and nose to try and block out at least some of the dreadful stench. He shone his torch around the hall to try and find the source of the smell, but all he found were old dusty paintings hanging on the wall. He turned abruptly and walked straight back out of the door.

“What are you doing back out here?” One of the boys asked venomously. Mark knew these guys weren’t the best friends he could’ve asked for, yet he thought they could’ve at least tried to be kind to him.

“It stinks in there!” He whined.

“We don’t care, get back in there Mark,” Billy pushed him towards the door forcefully. Mark entered the house again with his back hunched. He pulled the scarf over his mouth and nose again, yet the smell still lingered through. He rubbed his neck profusely as he nervously looked across the dirty floorboards. The light of torch reflected off of a liquid that had seeped under one of the doors. Crouching down, he ran his finger through the thick sticky substance, but retaliated as the torch showed it to be blood. The smell was now so strong that Mark felt dizzy and ill. His bony fingers wrapped around the cold door handle and he pulled it towards him.

“Jesus!” He exclaimed and jumped back as a body sprawled out on the floor, all twisted and bloody. The young woman’s flesh had decayed in time, yet her body still laid twisted. Mark thought that maybe she had fallen down the stairs one day and had never been found; except that couldn’t have been the case. Mark took a step forward and looked up the narrow stairway.

“You know it’s murder when there is writing on the wall,” He quoted from the corny murder mystery film he and Billy had watched the previous week. Symbols, maybe a different language, had been carved into the wall at the top of the stairs, just above the small oak table that was owned by a beautiful porcelain doll with fair skin and fiery red hair.

“You’ll get your chance Mark,” A rough voice hissed from behind him. He spun around, but no one was there. An eerie silence was all around him causing him to feel more nervous that he already was. The bulb of his torch flickered slightly. Knowing this was his cue to leave, he quickly rushed out of the house and left the body behind. Once outside, the bulb of the torch died completely, leaving him standing along in the dark and empty Orchid Road. Where his so called friends had gone, he did not know but as soon as he got home he was going to call the police and report the body.