Tales from the Yeller House: A Horror Collection

The Yeller House

    "Help!" Daniel Martin tried to scream, but his voice was too hoarse; the sound barely echoed in the empty house. "Anyone..." It was all in vain. His friends had left him, and with good reason. Dan couldn't say he wouldn't have done the same thing had the tables been turned. Still, the realization hurt like hell. He sniffled and rubbed away the blood-tinged tears from his left cheek. Stop crying. That ain't gonna help nothin' an' you know it. His head throbbed. Falling through a floor had that effect on a man. Dan stroked the cut above his eye. It didn't feel like it needed stitches, but Dan was no doctor. He didn't know how long he'd been laying on the dirt floor, but it felt like ages, and still a steady trickle of blood ran from the gash and into his eye, obscuring his vision until he cleared it away with his palm.
Click. The house shook, as if a clap of too-near thunder had rumbled it. If the windows hadn't long since been broken, Dan was sure they would have rattled. He looked up for the hundredth time since his accident. It's just the ol' house settlin'. The cliché did little for his nerves; he knew better. He couldn't see the dust that fell from between the floorboards above him, but he felt it pepper his face. Someone was in the house, but Dan couldn't call out. Everything he'd ever been told about the house ran through his mind. He held his breath in an attempt to slow down his heart rate. Just think of Mia. He closed his eyes. Mia danced behind his eyelids. Mia, with her long dark hair and ice blue eyes, holding their newborn daughter, Emma. Oh God. Emma.
    Another click, another rattle. Dan cringed, but kept his eyes closed. Keep thinkin' of home, he told himself, and tried to conjure up the image of his little family.
    "You were warned," a voice whispered, so near his ear he could feel the warm breath. He opened his mouth to scream, but before he could get the sound out, his vision went blacker than the basement.

***************
"Let's go throw rocks at the yeller house, Bill," twelve-year-old Dan said to his friend.
    "I - I can't," Bill stuttered. "I h-h-have to g-go home."
    "C'mon. What're you, chicken?" Dan put his fists in his armpits and clucked.
    "N-no. I just don't w-w-wanna go, 'kay?"
    Dan grabbed Bill by the shoulders. "Look. Ever'one at school thinks we're babies. If we get proof that we went to the Yeller House all by ourselves, we'd be so cool. C'mon. Please?" Dan could fell Bill was caving, so be added, "Lauren might fin'ly go out with you."
That was all the motivation Bill needed. "Fine. I'll go. B-But I do have to go home first. M-my mom will kill me if I don't."
"Okay. Tell ya what," Dan said. We meet at the old railroad bridge after dinner. That sound like a plan?"
"I g-g-guess," Bill said, his eyes still wide at the thought of going to the Yeller House. "I wish we didn't have to do this, Dan."
Dan put his arm around Bill's shoulders. "Me too, buddy. But we have to."
Two hours and a couple of lies to their parents later, the boys met at the bridge. The sun was steadily sinking behind the mountains and the late October air was chilly. At least Bill had a reason to shiver, despite the fact that his mother had made him wear a jacket on top of the T-shirt and hoodie he was already wearing.
"You ready?" Dan asked. His voice vibrated with enthusiasm.
"N-n-no," Bill stuttered.
"Awesome. Let's go."
By the time the boys reached the street to the Yeller House, dusk had set in and the street lights were on.
"Do ya think we'll see Aunt Sue?" Dan asked Bill.
"I hope not," Bill replied with conviction.
"How cool would it be if we did though? You know then didn't find her head until-"
"STOP IT!" Bill's shrill scream pierced the night. He stopped in his tracks. A dog howled from far off.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I was just saying."
"It's f-fine. Let's get this over with."
The boys walked up the dark lane, with Billy falling a little behind. "C'mon Billy." Dan's whisper carried through the silent night. "We're almost there!"
The Yeller House loomed in the dark night. It's angular silhouette gave Billy goosebumps. The closer they got, the more details the boys could make out. At one point the house has been yellow; that's where it had gotten its name. But now what paint remained on the dry-rotted boards was a faded, dirty gray. It was a single story home with an attic, and a rock well stood at the door of the broken front steps. The lawn was overgrown and dead. All-in-all, the scene just screamed "haunted".
"I-I-I don't wanna do this," Billy stuttered.
"We have to. We can't back out now." Dan bent down to pick up a stone. He reached his arm back behind his head, preparing to launch it.
Billy shuddered and looked at the house. What was that? He could have sworn he saw motion behind one of the broken window panes.
"Dan don't."
He was too late. The sound of breaking glass shattered the silent night as the rock connected with the pane. Billy looked at Dan. His face was glowing. "Here." He bent down for another gravel and handed it to Billy. "You try it."
Billy took the rock from Dan's upturned palm. He squinted in the dark, studying the stone.
"Don't be a baby. Throw it!"
With tears in his eyes, Billy threw the stone. He aimed for the porch, nowhere near a window, and prayed it wouldn't connect with a pane.
His prayer was in vain. Somehow, someway, the stone picked up speed and smashed one of the only fully intact windows in the house.
"Oh shit," Billy muttered. He turned and ran down the lane without a single glance back.

************
Dan turned his head to the right and strained to see in the dark room. "Who's there?" His voice was lower than a whisper.
"C'mon Dan. Come play. You have to."
"B-Billy?"
The only response was a child's laughter.
"Aunt Sue?"
The laughter stopped. Dan struggled to move and a sharp pain through his shin made him cry out. He reached down and gingerly touched his leg, wincing when he felt a shattered bone protruding through the skin.
Dan froze when he senses movement to his left. Every story he'd heard about the old house flooded into his mind. Aunt Sue, and how she'd been raped and decapitated, her head thrown in the well. The strange noises coming from the home. Witchcraft. The house taking people. Dan shuddered and closed his eyes.
Something touched his face.
Dan opened his eyes. The sight that met his made him regret that decision.
Laying beside him was a headless figure in a white dress. Dan choked back a scream and turned away, only to find the swollen, detached head to his right
"You're mine." The sound came from the green, bloated lips.
Dan's screams echoed through the night as he became one with the Yeller House.