Status: Original oneshot.
Let Me Go
That dark, cold, angry house.
“Jared? Jared, where are you?” I called out, turning around to look behind me, finding that Jared was no longer in the room with me. “Jared, if you’re hiding just to scare me, it’s not funny.”
None of my calls were answered, the house quiet and still. The only noises I could hear were the floorboards squeaking with each step and the steady puffs of air I let in and out of my mouth.
The room I was currently in was dark and still, the only movement coming from the window, the wind lifting the edges of the torn and dusty curtains hanging at the window’s sides. The air was cool, chilled by the cold winter the month had turned into. The air was light, though; it felt peaceful and calm. The room may have been dark, cold, and untouched, but it felt clean, like the walls were smiling bright smiles and whispering calm, comforting nothings in my ear, just to let me know the room wasn’t as menacing as it looked.
Suddenly, the walls’ smiles turned and the air was ten times colder, weighing down on my chest with the sudden drop in temperature. A shiver ran up my spine and goose bumps blossomed on my arms, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. I was no longer alone and the new visitor wanted their presence to be known.
A vase fell off of the dresser sitting against the wall behind me, crashing loudly to the floor and making me jump. I whipped around as fast as I could, but saw nothing there to cause the vase’s fall. The room looked just as empty as it had before.
“Jared! I’m leaving! If you don’t want to be left alone, you’d better get your ass over here, now!” I shouted, marching out of the room as fast as I could. I didn’t like this, not the house, not the room, not the vase, not the presence. The cold, heavy air was making me uncomfortable, the squeaky floorboards were irritating, the whistling wind was making my head hurt and the shadows were making me paranoid. Wait, shadows?
A dark, tall shadow stood next to my own, a long, thin body stretched across the hallway’s wall. The figure had long, dark arms, thin like long snakes that hung from small shoulders. The body’s head was small, but would’ve looked strange had it been any larger. The shadow was still, unlike mine. My shadow was turning around and around like my body, my eyes scanning the hall for anyone other than me. The shadow, unlike any others that I had seen before, led to no one. No bodies were connected to the dark figure.
And that’s when I ran. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me and as fast as it took to get out of that house. I whizzed down the hall, sped through the living room, and jumped out of the open front door, landing roughly on the dead grass next to the stone path to the sidewalk. My breath was coming in small, quick puffs as I panted, staring at the door I’d just jumped through. It looked exactly like it had when I’d first gone in. The house still looked dark and abandoned, broken and still falling apart. And now my body felt the same way the floorboards did.
My arms were covered in scratches, each one a bright red next to my pale skin. Some were dotted with droplets of blood, others just deep enough to leave a mark. The various marks weren’t there when I was going in the house and weren’t there when I was standing alone in the backroom, yelling for Jared. They were made by invisible nails, sharp and sticking out of the tips of thin, bony fingers, each one trying to grab at my arm as I ran out. Just then I realized where the scratches had come from and why they were there.
The house was haunted, just as the rumors had said, by the spirits of those who’d gone in the house and never made it out. The house would bring them in one way or another and closed off the exits before they could get out, trapping them there so the walls could take them and make them their own. But, that wasn’t it. The souls were haunted as well, not just haunting. The house was haunting them, forcing them to steal visitors with fear, just as they had tried with me. If the house couldn’t do it, the ghosts were to do it for the walls; catch them before they escaped. Grab at them, claw at them, bring them back in and never let them out again, only to force them into joining the group of sad, empty bodies that were piled up somewhere in a cold, abandoned room within the house.
Those pointed nails were trying to catch me, keep me from leaving. But I won. They failed to catch me, but managed to leave a mark. And that mark was what would keep me from leaving and keep me tied to that dark, cold, angry house.
None of my calls were answered, the house quiet and still. The only noises I could hear were the floorboards squeaking with each step and the steady puffs of air I let in and out of my mouth.
The room I was currently in was dark and still, the only movement coming from the window, the wind lifting the edges of the torn and dusty curtains hanging at the window’s sides. The air was cool, chilled by the cold winter the month had turned into. The air was light, though; it felt peaceful and calm. The room may have been dark, cold, and untouched, but it felt clean, like the walls were smiling bright smiles and whispering calm, comforting nothings in my ear, just to let me know the room wasn’t as menacing as it looked.
Suddenly, the walls’ smiles turned and the air was ten times colder, weighing down on my chest with the sudden drop in temperature. A shiver ran up my spine and goose bumps blossomed on my arms, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. I was no longer alone and the new visitor wanted their presence to be known.
A vase fell off of the dresser sitting against the wall behind me, crashing loudly to the floor and making me jump. I whipped around as fast as I could, but saw nothing there to cause the vase’s fall. The room looked just as empty as it had before.
“Jared! I’m leaving! If you don’t want to be left alone, you’d better get your ass over here, now!” I shouted, marching out of the room as fast as I could. I didn’t like this, not the house, not the room, not the vase, not the presence. The cold, heavy air was making me uncomfortable, the squeaky floorboards were irritating, the whistling wind was making my head hurt and the shadows were making me paranoid. Wait, shadows?
A dark, tall shadow stood next to my own, a long, thin body stretched across the hallway’s wall. The figure had long, dark arms, thin like long snakes that hung from small shoulders. The body’s head was small, but would’ve looked strange had it been any larger. The shadow was still, unlike mine. My shadow was turning around and around like my body, my eyes scanning the hall for anyone other than me. The shadow, unlike any others that I had seen before, led to no one. No bodies were connected to the dark figure.
And that’s when I ran. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me and as fast as it took to get out of that house. I whizzed down the hall, sped through the living room, and jumped out of the open front door, landing roughly on the dead grass next to the stone path to the sidewalk. My breath was coming in small, quick puffs as I panted, staring at the door I’d just jumped through. It looked exactly like it had when I’d first gone in. The house still looked dark and abandoned, broken and still falling apart. And now my body felt the same way the floorboards did.
My arms were covered in scratches, each one a bright red next to my pale skin. Some were dotted with droplets of blood, others just deep enough to leave a mark. The various marks weren’t there when I was going in the house and weren’t there when I was standing alone in the backroom, yelling for Jared. They were made by invisible nails, sharp and sticking out of the tips of thin, bony fingers, each one trying to grab at my arm as I ran out. Just then I realized where the scratches had come from and why they were there.
The house was haunted, just as the rumors had said, by the spirits of those who’d gone in the house and never made it out. The house would bring them in one way or another and closed off the exits before they could get out, trapping them there so the walls could take them and make them their own. But, that wasn’t it. The souls were haunted as well, not just haunting. The house was haunting them, forcing them to steal visitors with fear, just as they had tried with me. If the house couldn’t do it, the ghosts were to do it for the walls; catch them before they escaped. Grab at them, claw at them, bring them back in and never let them out again, only to force them into joining the group of sad, empty bodies that were piled up somewhere in a cold, abandoned room within the house.
Those pointed nails were trying to catch me, keep me from leaving. But I won. They failed to catch me, but managed to leave a mark. And that mark was what would keep me from leaving and keep me tied to that dark, cold, angry house.
♠ ♠ ♠
So, I'm just looking through the various pictures saved on my laptop, minding my own business, humming along to some Hellogoodbye song, when I think "Hey, I haven't written anything good in awhile. Maybe I can find an old story I've already started and add on to it!" So, getting all giddy, I start looking through my files and then I find this. Originally, it was just titled "Haunted House," nothing special, but, it still caught my eye. I opened the file, still humming along to my happy music, and read through what I'd already had written. My humming stopped as I realized just how uncomfortable this story made me. Immediately hooked, I started adding on to the little snippet I had and, eventually, I finished it. And now, I've posted this silly, somewhat creepy nonsense that had kind of ruined my Hellogoodbye party.Now, you might not really be interested in my little adventure, but, hey, I don't care. I've already told you about it and you've already read it. Congratulations.
Anyway! I don't remember even starting this thing, but I certainly enjoyed finishing it. I hope you enjoyed reading it and let me know what you think of my angry little house!