Ball pit of the damned

the only bit because ew ads :)

It was late at night and I had just gotten back from work, when I noticed a strange sight. The house across from me had the lights on, which would be a regular occurrence if that house hadn't been abandoned for some 50 years. The first conclusion I might come to would be that it's been bought, and the new owner is doing renovations. However, the "for sale by owner" sign is still up.

There are numerous conclusions to jump to, so I figure that I'll get my groceries put away and see if the light is still on. If so, I'll go over and investigate. I walk to my front door and unlock it, stepping in with a sigh. I close the door behind me and walk to my kitchen, plopping down the groceries I picked up on my way home. "Man, I really need to wash those dishes" I said aloud to myself as I began to unpack the groceries.

Once I finished I spared the dishes a glance, and settled on washing half of them. Small tasks at a time, I figured. I began washing the dishes, letting my mind wonder. I thought about why that light might be on, I mean, it's an overgrown, falling apart, old house. From the 80's, no less. So why would the electric even be working? I mean, someone has to pay those bills. Unless it's owned again? But who would buy a fixer upper of that stature? And immediately get the electric going again? Unless it's going to be demolished? But then why is the electric on and why is someone in there at 10 fucking PM?

It just doesn't line up and.. Oh, damnit. I cut my finger on a dirty knife. At least everything's cleaned now. I better wash this cut out. While I fixed up my finger I couldn't stop thinking about that house and its weird lights.. Best go check if they're still on. I walk to the curtains, open them, peer through the blinds, and, low and behold, the lights are still on.

Well, I did say I would go check it so… I mean, fuck it. I get ready and walk out again, approaching that old house. I reach the doorstep and knock, the instant I do so the lights cut out. "Uh, hello?" I called out. The door swung open upon my fourth knock, revealing a dark interior of a house that's falling apart. The weirdest thing is, the light bulb is broken. And, in the middle of the foyer, is a lone ball pit. Filled with colorful plastic balls, looking fairly new. "Alright, well, sorry to intrude but I'll be on my way now."  I said, vaguely panicked as I backed up off of the porch.

As I walk back to my house, I hear a loud crashing behind me. So, naturally, I sprint back into my house. Upon my successful entrance I close and lock the door behind me, peering out of the windows. "What the.." The house had just collapsed. Leaving rubble and that ball pit. Untouched. It was uncanny, it was so clean it almost looked like it was glowing amidst the rubble. It, called to me. As if I had to approach it, investigate it, something. I shake my head vigorously, no! Why in the world was I so entranced by this fucking ball pit? No, no I won't go see it. If anything, it seems like a trap! "A fucking trap!" I call out, only now realizing how absolutely insane I sound.

Maybe I should go see it though.. I mean, what could be the trap? It's in a public place next to two houses with people in them.. Fully exposed.. Plus, it's kiddy pool depth. I should be fine. Yeah, I'm gonna go see it. I walk out the door again, taking confident strides over to the ball pit. I reach it, peering down into it. Before I can tell what's happening, a sickly pale arm reaches out and pulls me in. I scream but no sound comes out, I am dragged into the abyssal ball pit.

The neighborhood is quiet and life goes on, no one noticed the sudden disappearance. The house is torn down and a new house is built atop the foundation, atop our graves. The children scream, the children hear. Deaths in another realm, knowledge held by another moral compass. Dying souls influence the dead, urging them to action. Stories to tell, stories to make. Stories to fear, stories to love. They all mean but one thing, the influence of the dead.

As families come and go on the new foundation, the house withstands many renovations. Changing with era, ebbing and flowing. Until recently, it became more modern. However, with the sudden vintage-loving home owner, the house became modeled in the style of the 80's. This was familiar to the spirits below the pavement, comforting, inviting.

The spirits rose above at this new renovation, seemingly overjoyed with the influx of nostalgia. The house was so familiar, so inviting. Unbeknownst to the newest home owner, these spirits are not fond of boreish things. The spirits would influence this new house owner in small, incremental, subtle ways. Such as a more colorful fruit basket array, rearranging bouquets, overall enticing more color.

Eventually the new homeowner got the hint and installed some newer, more fun, items. Namely, a ball pit. The spirits were overjoyed at this new installment, opting to spend more time in the ball pit room then any other. This influenced the new homeowner, with the sudden lack of subtle changes that always previously existed, they had to do it themselves. Making everything they could more colorful. Eventually going so far as to start a circus, it drew a large crowd.

This new homeowner became a ringmaster, managing many colorful characters. They became obsessed with color, driven only by the sudden need to make the subtle color arrangements themselves. People would call them "the rainbow Meister", or " the color clown" and a whole host of other titles. The spirits liked this, urging for more. But, eventually, the homeowner died in a tragic accident. They had next of kin, but instead sold the house and gave the money to their child. Their child was plagued with visions of spirits from their childhood in that house.

Their child eventually bought the house, and moved in to see just how wacky their parent had made it. And, indeed, it was unhinged. You might even think an insane person had lived here. From the vibrant wallpaper to the neon rugs, everything was an eyesore. But nothing could prepare them for the horrors of the one untouched room. Seemingly free from the plague of color the rest of the house suffered from, was the ball pit room. The worst room. The room they would have nightmares about. The spirit's room.

It was almost refreshing to be in this respite from neon, if it weren't for the gut wrenching wood paneled walls and popcorn ceiling. Not to mention the wood floor with a vomit-green rug. But, in the very middle, the vibrant ball pit. Almost a reminder of the rest of the house. The window at the back of the room is overgrown, and there's a slight draft coming from it. This whole house is unsettling, and then there's this. This time capsule of a room, this spirit filled room. There's whispering, visions, and then silence. Nothing. The ringmaster's child was unnerved, yet practically glued in place. Frozen, yet not exactly in fear, more, anticipation.

A smell of mildew fills the room, sending the child back to their senses. "My name is Eddie, Eddie." The child reassured themselves, backing out of the room. They think of renovating, but can't stand to be in there long enough to do so. Looking back out at the sickeningly colorful house, they decide this wall paper needs to go. They start tearing some down but quickly come to a frightening conclusion. The less color there is, the stronger the presence of the spirits is.

Met with this troubling revolation, they decide to call exorcists and priests. Yet, no matter how hard they try, these spirits won't leave. Instead, it angers them further. The child holds off on further so-called divine intervention. Then, they realize, if they can color up the ball pit room, maybe they can banish the spirits! Seeing as color hurts them, and all. But there's one hurdle, getting in there and being able to move. So, they hire people to do it for them, but they never leave the room. The company goes out of business, everything connected to them dissipates their connection.

So, they decide to do it themselves. They get their tools and head into the room, but it's so much worse. The smell of mildew festering in the room and small moving parts. An eye in the wall here and there, a couple arms in the ball pit, almost as if they're escaping. The eyes lock on the child, who drops everything and runs. Making one fatal error, not closing the door. The spirits shriek, and escape their ball pit confines. They wreak havoc throughout the house, ravenously pursuing the child.

As the spirits pursue the child, they tear apart and destroy all of the intense color on the way. Getting more, and more, powerful. The child escapes, but just barely. The spirits continue wrecking the house, but the child puts it up for sale. After 30 years it's been sat there, abandoned, until it finally collapses. Leaving the ball pit untouched and luring another, innocent, victim. -ꎇꀤꂚ

Hi! Thanks for reading :3 first try at horror.

Word count: 1628