In the heart of San Francisco, a family's life takes an unexpected turn when they relocate following the aftermath of the father's infidelity. Unaware of the dark history lurking within the newly acquired property, they quickly find themselves entan...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
⚠ (The mention of the r slur, gore and death) ⚠
San Francisco 1978
In the silent stillness, an eerie melody of wind chimes dances with the rustling leaves strewn across the decaying lawn. A girl of eight, with long braids flowing behind her, stands amidst the once-regal Victorian manor. The abode's charm has faded with time; decaying shutters hang limp, and peeling paint betrays its once dignified appearance. No longer a vibrant ingenue, she stands in the shadow of its former grandeur.
Out of nowhere, a rock hurtles through the air, smashing an upper-story window. Adelaide, an eight-year-old girl with Down syndrome, whirls around in surprise. The gate to the yard is forcefully opened by two ten-year-old boys, Troy and Bryan Rutger, as they strut confidently into the yard, wielding a baseball bat.
With a cruel smirk, Troy calls out, "Hey, retard" as he stomps towards the house. Without missing a beat, Adelaide responds in her quiet but firm voice, "You're going to die in there." Taken aback by her words, the boys pause, a brief silence filling the air.
Troy, unable to control his anger, charges at Adelaide, shoving her roughly before spitting on her. Without so much as a second glance, Troy turns back and heads into the house.
The haunting sound of classical music wafts through the air, mingling with the rhythmic banging of flashlights, shattering the splendid Victorian fixtures. Lead-lined stained glass, carefully crafted moldings, and other intricate details are mercilessly destroyed by the relentless bat. Each smash is punctuated by the explosion of firecrackers that scatter around the room, each pop and crack filling the air with a dissonant melody of chaos and destruction.
Troy, fueled by a wild rage, smashes through the exquisite leaded cabinets, leaving shards of glass everywhere. Abruptly, Bryan's voice rings out from another room, alarmed, yelling, "TROY!"
Troy, still breathing heavily, strides across the room, the faint buzzing of flies quickly escalating into a chaotic chorus. He finally comes to a halt beside his brother and kneels down.
"AWESOME!" Troy exclaims with a twisted satisfaction as he stares at the lifeless, gutted possum.
A soft, almost ghostly, laughter drifts through the air, and the boys follow the sound until they find themselves at the end of a hallway, where a basement door stands slightly ajar. A shiver runs down their spines, and they freeze in place.
"Go," Troy orders his brother, his voice trembling with fear.
Bryan, trying to hide his own trepidation, snaps back. "You go, shithead, I dare you."
Troy, leading the way, steps into the basement, his brother trailing closely behind. The flashlight beams slice through the dark, revealing the occasional cobweb. The basement seems relatively empty until...
"Check it out," Troy says, his voice tinged with awe. Bryan approaches, and as they shine the flashlight on a wall of dusty specimen jars, the light reveals a nightmarish sight - the jars are filled with a sickeningly yellow viscous fluid and showcase a macabre collection of severed deformed hands, feet, a twisted jaw, and a tableau horror reminiscent of Joel Peter Witkin's work.
Alongside the jars of specimens, a tidy row of barbaric surgical tools are neatly arranged – clamps, disembowelers, and spreaders, all caked with rusty blood. The boys' eyes are wide with a mixture of horror and fascination. Troy, unable to resist the temptation, picks up one of the jars and examines it.
"Don't do it," Bryan warns, but Troy ignores him, smashing the jar against the wall, causing it to splinter into a thousand pieces.
"It stinks down here," Troy says, gagging at the foul stench. "It smells like when we had a raccoon stuck in the chimney"
"last summer." He continues "like it smells like... well, like, like...like absolute crap - let's go find it."
"No way, no way, it smells bad. I'm leaving." Bryan declares, panicked, as he bolts up the stairs, leaving Troy alone in the basement.
The loud pops and cracks of firecrackers come to an abrupt halt, and silence ensues, only broken by the faint giggles of a child.
"Troy?" Bryan calls out, descending the stairs. But all he finds is an eerie silence, apart from the faint sound of a child's laugh. "Who's down here?" he screams out, his fear growing with each passing moment.
As Bryan moves deeper into the basement, searching anxiously for his brother, he finally finds Troy lying lifeless, his throat gruesomely ripped out. Frozen in terror, Bryan's heart races as he feels something behind him. He slowly turns, encountering the figure of a blonde two-year-old boy wearing a tarnished christening gown, stained red with blood. His face, mouth, and skin are aged, bearing the signs of extreme age.
The sight is haunting, and the atmosphere is thick with terror. A sudden thump signals Bryan to drop his flashlight as he lets out a bloodcurdling scream, shattering the silence of the basement.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Dear Readers, I hope this chilling tale has left a lasting impression on you. Remember, horror comes in many forms and the most terrifying monsters often lurk closer than we think. May your nights be peaceful and free from any eerie laughter or whispers in the shadows. Happy reading! - Honey
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
