House Of Wax : Nick Jones FF ✅

Twenty-Three. 23

Outside Flannery's Grocery Store, Nick stepped through the rear loading door, his curiosity piqued by the mysterious thumping noise echoing from behind the building. As he ventured further, he stumbled upon an old wooden ice house nestled in the shadows.

"Hello? Somebody in there?" Nick called out, but the thumping continued, its source shrouded in darkness.

Approaching cautiously, Nick opened the door to the ice house, the dim light revealing a scene straight from a nightmare. Hanging from a meat hook, the lifeless body of a buck, its gutted form swaying eerily in the stifling heat.

Despite its name, the ice house was devoid of ice, and the temperature was oppressively hot. Nick's confusion mounted as he searched for an explanation, his eyes drawn to the thumping noise. What could be causing it?

Drawing closer, Nick's stomach churned at the sight before him. Inside the buck's carcass, a horde of rats feasted greedily, their frenzied movements causing the carcass to sway back and forth. Shocked and repulsed, Nick recoiled, but it was too late. The rats, disturbed by his presence, surged forth, overwhelming him in a flood of fur and claws.

Panicked, Nick flailed and kicked, scrambling to his feet and fleeing from the ice house, his mind reeling from the grotesque encounter. "FUCK THIS! WHERE THE HECK IS EVERYONE!"

...

Inside the House of Wax, the eerie strains of classical music filled the air as Bo led Dalton into the kitchen. The atmosphere was surreal, disorienting in its strangeness. "It sounds like they're downstairs. Through that door," Bo indicated, gesturing towards a door partially ajar, light flickering from within.

Passing the fan belt to Dalton, Bo made his exit, citing his need to return to the gas station. Dalton expressed his gratitude, acknowledging Bo's assistance with genuine appreciation. "Thanks. Really cool of you to help my friends out."

As Bo departed, Dalton cautiously pushed the door open further, revealing a chilling sight. Wax arms protruded from the sides of the stairwell, each holding a burning candle, casting an eerie glow on the scene below.

"Hello?" Dalton called out tentatively as he descended the stairs, the flickering light guiding his way. In the basement, he was met with a haunting sight. Dozens of hollowed wax figures adorned the walls, their vacant eyes and mouths casting shadows that danced across the room.

Every inch of the walls seemed to pulsate with the impression of panicked faces, frozen in a macabre tableau that sent shivers down Dalton's spine. He sees that music is playing from an old phonograph set against a wall next to him "Carly, Wade?" he called out again, receiving no response. Adjusting the volume of the old phonograph playing in the corner, Dalton pressed on, his unease growing with each step.

Moving through a small hallway, Dalton encountered more unsettling sights. Ten identical wax bodies lined the passage, their outstretched arms creating a tunnel-like entrance into another room. The heads of these figures had melted together in a grotesque fusion.

" --This is fucked up" Dalton's voice echoed down the hallway, but there was no reply. "Wade? You down here, man?" A lump formed in Dalton's throat as he spotted a figure on a table at the side of the room. It was Carly, motionless, eyes closed, dressed in her own clothes once again. Dalton approached slowly, disbelief washing over him. This couldn't be real.

Leaning in closer, he tentatively touched the wax face, feeling it dent beneath his fingertips, still warm. Suddenly, the eyes snapped open, and Dalton recoiled in shock, his heart racing. "Help me..." Carly's voice was muffled but desperate, her eyes filled with fear.

"Oh my god, Carly," Dalton exclaimed, his hands shaking as he began to peel away the wax from Carly's lips and face. But what he uncovered beneath made his blood run cold—raw, blistered skin, a testament to unspeakable pain.

Despite his own rising panic, Dalton fought to stay calm, determined to free his friend. "I'm gonna get you outta here. You'll be okay," he reassured Carly, though the reality seemed far from reassuring.

Suddenly, the volume of the music surged, sending Dalton's heart racing even faster. He scanned the room, his eyes settling on a wall of weapons. Grabbing a knife, he braced himself and moved towards the hallway, every nerve on edge.

As he navigated the hallway, Dalton's fear escalated with each passing wax figure, their outstretched arms and joined faces casting eerie shadows. But it was the sight of Vincent's head that sent a shiver down his spine, the cold eyes seeming to follow his every move.

Pausing at the end of the hallway, Dalton peered into the front room, sweat pouring down his face. Silence enveloped him, broken only by the sound of his own rapid breathing. And then, just as his sixth sense warned him of danger, a blade slashed across his face, sending him reeling as he dunged the first attempt.

As Vincent lunged for a second attack, Dalton fought back with a fierce strike of his own, his weapon connecting with Vincent's neck, causing a superficial but infuriating wound. With adrenaline coursing through his veins, Dalton made a dash for the stairs, his heart pounding with fear.

But before he could reach safety, Vincent grabbed him from behind, sending him tumbling violently to the bottom of the staircase. His knife clattered to the ground, out of reach.

As Dalton scrambled backward in terror, he watched in horror as Vincent emerged from the shadows, now wielding two identical carving knives. Fear gripped him as he prepared for another onslaught.

"FUCKING DIE!"

But just as Vincent advanced towards him, a sudden force shoved the deranged attacker down the stairs with brutal force. Vincent crashed to the ground beside Dalton, the impact causing a sickening crack from beneath his mask. And on the top of the stairs stood Wade.

Looking like a hot mess. He was limping as he barely could stand straight. Dalton notices the blood leaking out from a sharp cut on his ankle.

Dalton, writhing in pain, struggled to get to his feet, his senses reeling from the chaos. To his relief, Wade finally moved, reaching out to help him up and guide him away from the danger. With Wade practically carrying him, Dalton was swiftly led away from the scene, grateful to have narrowly escaped the clutches of Vincent once again.

They both based the now waxed figure of Carly, but both couldn't bring themselves to look as they knew they were leaving a friend/girlfriend behind.