The depth of short stories and micro-fiction 2

House of Horrors: A Home to Die For

The house on Havenwood Lane had been abandoned for years. The locals avoided it, whispering tales of a family tragedy that had left a stain on the very walls of the mansion. But Courtney, a thrill-seeking journalist, was not one to believe in ghost stories. She had always been drawn to the darker side of life, and the mysterious house was her next big investigation.

As she stepped out of her car and onto the cracked driveway, a shiver ran down her spine. The trees surrounding the house seemed to lean in as if listening to her every move. Courtney shrugged off the feeling, telling herself it was just the wind rustling through the leaves. She had done her research, and there was no evidence of any supernatural occurrences. The family that had once lived here had simply been the victims of a tragic accident.

The house itself was imposing, with tall spires and turrets that seemed to stretch up to the sky like skeletal fingers. Courtney felt a thrill of excitement as she approached the entrance. She had always been drawn to the macabre, and this house was the ultimate symbol of death and decay.

As she pushed open the creaking front door, a musty smell wafted out, making her wrinkle her nose. The interior was just as impressive as the exterior, with high ceilings and ornate chandeliers. But it was the details that caught her attention – the family portraits on the walls, the antique furniture, the faded rug that seemed to tell a story of its own.

Courtney began to explore, her footsteps echoing through the empty halls. She started in the living room, taking in the eerie atmosphere. The furniture was still arranged as if the family had just gotten up to leave, but the dust and cobwebs told a different story. She wandered into the kitchen, where she found a calendar still pinned to the wall, the date stuck on the day of the tragedy.

As she continued her exploration, Courtney started to notice strange things. Doors creaked open on their own, and the sound of whispers seemed to follow her. At first, she dismissed it as the wind or her imagination, but as it continued, she began to feel a creeping sense of unease. It was as if the house was watching her, waiting for her to make a wrong move.

Despite her growing unease, Courtney pressed on. She had a job to do, and she was determined to uncover the secrets of the house. She made her way upstairs, her heart pounding in her chest. The bedrooms were just as eerie as the rest of the house, with clothes still strewn about and beds unmade. But it was the final room that made her blood run cold.

Inside, she found a series of newspaper clippings, each one detailing the death of a visitor to the house. There was a family who had come to explore, only to be found dead in the basement. A group of teenagers who had dared each other to spend the night but never made it through the night. And a lone explorer who had been discovered months later, his body decomposed beyond recognition.

Courtney felt a chill run down her spine as she realized the truth. The house was not just haunted – it was a killer. It had a way of taking out anyone who dared to enter its premises, and she was the next target.

As she turned to leave, she heard the front door slamming shut. She was trapped. The house had her right where it wanted her. Panic set in as she frantically searched for a way out, but every door led to a dead end. The whispers grew louder, and she could feel the house closing in around her.

In a desperate bid to escape, Courtney smashed a window and climbed out onto the fire escape. But as she reached the ground, she realized she was not alone. The trees seemed to have moved closer, their branches tangling around her like skeletal fingers. The house was not just a killer – it was a monster, and it had her in its grasp.

As the darkness closed in, Courtney realized she was doomed. The house had claimed another victim, and she would never be seen again. The last thing she saw was the face of the house, its windows glinting like eyes in the dark. And then, everything went black.

The next morning, the police found Courtney's car still parked outside the house. But of her, there was no sign. The house on Havenwood Lane remained standing, its secrets intact, waiting for the next victim to dare to enter its premises.