The depth of short stories and micro-fiction 2

The Forgotten Resident: A Death in the House

Officer Marvin stepped out of his patrol car and onto the crumbling asphalt of Ravenwood Drive. The street was a relic of a bygone era, lined with ancient trees and houses that seemed to lean in as if sharing a macabre secret. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and decay, a noxious Odor that clung to the back of Marvin's throat like a cold, dead hand.

At the end of the street, the infamous Bellwood House loomed, its turrets and gargoyles reaching toward the moon like skeletal fingers. For decades, the house had stood vacant, a testament to the tragedy that had befallen the Bellwood family. The locals whispered of strange occurrences and unexplained sightings, of a malevolent presence that lurked within the walls, waiting to snatch the living.

Marvin had always been sceptical of the rumours. As a seasoned police officer, he had seen his fair share of horrors, but he had never been one to believe in ghost stories. Still, when the department received a call about a possible disturbance at the Bellwood House, Marvin felt a shiver run down his spine. He had always been drawn to the unknown, the unexplained, and the Bellwood House was the ultimate enigma.

As he approached the house, Marvin noticed that the front door was slightly ajar. He pushed it open, his eyes scanning the musty darkness within. A faint light flickered from the hallway, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

"Hello?" Marvin called out, his voice echoing through the empty halls. "Is anyone here?"

There was no response. Marvin stepped inside, his hand resting on the butt of his gun. The air inside was thick with dust and the stench of rot. He coughed, covering his mouth with his sleeve.

As he made his way deeper into the house, Marvin noticed something strange. The walls were adorned with old photographs, yellowed with age and depicting a family that seemed to be frozen in time. There were images of children playing in the garden and of parents smiling and embracing. But one photograph caught Marvin's eye – a young girl with piercing green eyes and hair as black as coal.

Marvin felt a shiver run down his spine. There was something about the girl's eyes that seemed to follow him, to watch him as he moved. He shook his head, chiding himself for being spooked.

Suddenly, he heard a faint whisper. It was a soft, melodious voice, and it seemed to be calling his name.

"Marvin...Marvin, come and find me."

Marvin spun around, trying to locate the source of the voice. But there was no one in sight. The whisper seemed to be coming from all around him, echoing off the walls.

He followed the sound, his heart pounding in his chest. The whisper grew louder, more insistent, and Marvin found himself being drawn to a door at the end of the hallway. It was slightly ajar, and he could see a sliver of light coming from the other side.

Marvin pushed the door open, and a warm, golden light spilt out. He stepped inside, his eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness. And that was when he saw her – the young girl from the photograph, sitting on a bed, surrounded by antique toys and dolls.

She looked up at Marvin, her green eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. "Hello, Officer Marvin," she said, her voice like music. "I've been waiting for you."

Marvin's mind reeled as he tried to process what he was seeing. The girl was dressed in old-fashioned clothing, her hair styled in a way that was popular decades ago. And yet, she seemed so real, so alive.

"Who are you?" Marvin asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm Emily," the girl replied, her smile faltering for a moment. "I've been trapped in this house for a very long time."

Marvin's eyes widened as he realized the truth. Emily was the daughter of the Bellwood family, the one who had died under mysterious circumstances all those years ago.

As he watched, Emily's eyes seemed to cloud over, her expression turning sad. "I've been waiting for someone to find me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've been waiting for someone to set me free."

Marvin felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. He reached out a hand, but as he touched her shoulder, he felt a sudden chill. Emily's eyes snapped back into focus, and she looked up at him with a malevolent glare.

"You shouldn't have come here," she hissed, her voice like a snake slithering through the grass.

Marvin tried to step back, but his feet seemed rooted to the spot. Emily's eyes seemed to be burning with an otherworldly intensity, and he felt himself being drawn into their depths.

As he stared into her eyes, Marvin saw a vision of the past – a family torn apart by tragedy, a young girl consumed by a malevolent force. He saw the Bellwood family's darkest secrets, their deepest fears.

And then, everything went black.

When Marvin came to, he was lying on the floor, his head throbbing with pain. The room was empty, except for the antique toys and dolls, which seemed to be watching him with cold, dead eyes.

Marvin stumbled to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew that he had to get out of the house, to escape the malevolent presence that lurked within its walls.

As he stumbled back through the hallway, Marvin caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror. His eyes were sunken, his skin pale. And on his shoulder, he saw a small, delicate handprint – a handprint that seemed to be made of ice.

Marvin knew then that he had been marked, that he had been chosen by the malevolent force that haunted the Bellwood House. He stumbled out into the night, the darkness closing in around him like a shroud.

And as he looked back at the house, he saw Emily's face in the window, her green eyes watching him with a cold, calculating intensity. Marvin knew then that he would never be able to escape the horror that lurked within those walls, that he would be forever trapped in the abyss of the Bellwood House.