House of the Damned

The inside of the building was just as strange as the outside. The younger children seemed frightened by the odd painted portraits eying us as we walked down the entryway and into the main living room.

The main room was perhaps the size and height of a gymnasium. The theme seemed to be red and gold; the magnificent and proud furniture was colored with every shade of those two colors imaginable. There were many sofas and chairs, organized neatly, underneath a precariously hanging chandelier. It wasn’t lit—the only light came from the windows above. Everything seemed very dusty and ancient.

Miss White and the others ushered us into the chairs while they went to explore the rest of the area. Everyone’s voices were hushed now, looking around with amazement at the room. Their conversations, although hushed, bounced off the walls and echoed. I sat down with my friends on a particularly moth-eaten couch.

“This sure is a weird place,” said Carey. “What kind of person makes a living room this big?” The dusty light made her blond hair appear faded white.

“And why doesn’t anyone own it?” sighed Amanda. “Are we going to be the only people here? You could have a convention in here!”

“Dunno,” I replied. “I’ve never even heard of Everett Mansion. Have you?”

They shook their heads.

We continued talking until Miss White came back in, looking excited.

“We’ll assign you your beds. It looks like almost everyone can have their own room!” she gushed.

As it turned out, I did get my own room, a luxury I’d never had before. It was fairly small. The walls and carpet were a dark green color. Light only came from a half-hearted, naked lightbulb dangling above the bed. But I still loved it. This entire room, all to myself and nobody else!

In fact, the house was so spacious that there were still empty bedrooms left over, as some of us still preferred to bunk with our friends. Two of the rooms in my hallway were empty.

The rest of the day was rushed and passed by quickly. The other teenagers and I took the school bus back to the nearest outdoor mall. We spent the afternoon and evening buying food, toiletries, toys for the younger children, and anything else we thought we might need.

In our absence, the atmosphere of the place had warmed up considerably. The children were running around, jumping on the couches, and doing all the things kids do. It always put a smile on my face to see it. The sombering tragedy of the morning was apparently forgotten, whether it was forced or not.

Dinner was a loud and cheerful affair, with more than enough food. Afterward, I helped in the nursery until bed. I bid a merry goodnight to the little twin boys who I was playing with, and then sauntered off to bed.

Still marveling at my room, I showered—I really had my own shower!—shut off the lights, lied down, and fell asleep in an instant.