Murder House

"Welcome to hell."

My vision slowly came back and I glanced up at James smirking face. He looked cocky, like he was silently telling me 'I told you so" without speaking ot me. One eye brow was raised and the grew larger when he could tell that I woken up.

"Welcome to hell."

My answer was a groan, I hurt too badly to speak. My ribs seemed to be crushing into me, attacking my lungs with their full force.

I glanced around the room, it was dark, musty and made my nose wrinkle in disgust. There was a rank odor surrounding me, decay, decompostion of something dead. I felt myself attempt to vomit, but I couldn't work up the strength to do it.

"In case you're wondering,  you're the murder room. It such an unpleasent room, so it would be for your benefit to not look around much."

"What?" I managed to puff out.

"Would now be a bad time to tell you that I told you so or would you like me to wait til you're dead and watching everyone you love die?"

"I hate you."  I choked out.

"Well that's probably true, but jsut remember I'm the only one that can get you out of here." He said with a smirk coming across his face again.

"How?"

"You're in his part of the murder house, that means I'm able to do something in here." He said as he got up from the floor next to me.

"Where is he?"

"He left while you were out. That's when I came in, because I'm not sure if he can see me or not." He said in a whisper not to draw attentionto us.

"Where's the murder room?" I asked, wanting to know what area of the house we were in.

"We're really close to the exit. Can you make it by yourself or do you need help?"

I forced myself up from the hardwood floor as pain crashed in on me from all angles. My ribs attacked my lungs, my legs caved in and my arms gave away. It was offical, I needed help or I was as good as dead.

"Should I take that as a yes?" James asked smartly.

"Yes, Smartass!"

"Well, that's rude." He said holding his hand out for me to take. I must have given him an odd look, but I couldn't be sure since I was so in pain I didn't register anything. "Just take my hand. You're going to need it, you're leg is pretty busted."

I took his hand, and amazingly I didn't go through him. He was in the part of the murder house that he actually excited in, that must have meant that he could touch me like anyone else, but in my world he was a ghost. He had never been apart of my world, so he had no connection to it.

Against my judgement I looked around the room while James put one of my arms around his neck and supported me with his shoulders. The room was disgusting, bodies everywhere. Some where chained to walls, others to the floor, some were just sprawled out on the floor and the unfortunate ones were cut in half.

I gagged slightly, and threw up on the floor at me feet at the sight.

"I told you not to look." He said as we shuffled out of the room. The hallway was almost as bad as the room, there were bodies chained along the walls decaying and dying a never ending death. That's when I saw a familar head of brown choppy hair laying on the ground in a contorted position.

"James is that?"

"Yes, that's my body. I'm still not alive Katy, but I can help you here." He said as he stepped over his body and walked down toward the door that led to the reception area of the Murder house. Just built last year, that's where I was safe.

The bathroom and our bed rooms, were added on, only the ghosts could terrify us there. They could grab us in here though.

There was a banging on the door at the end of the hallway, and I could hear Landon and Thomas calling my name.

"Open the door!"

"I can't!"

"Let me try!"

"You can't do it either!"

"We have to get her out of there!" They bickered without knowing that I was about ten feet away from them.

I heard a loud angry yell come from behind us. I felt James tense, and start to pick up the pace faster than I could keep up with. Suddenly he halted, a dead stop, that sent us both falling foreward and crashing into the ground.

"Landon! Thomas!" I cried out of fear and worry.

I grabbed for a wall railing, only to discover it wasn't a railing. It was a fire poker sticking out of one of the bodies in the hallway. I gagged slightly, but held it down this time. I heard James scream and turned around to see Richards beat James to the ground.

"James!" I yelled in time to see him be beaten to death. I guess he could see James, too bad for him he got to die all over again, without knowing that he got me out safely.

When Richards turned his attention to me, I swung the fire poke and sliced his face. Blood dripped down onto my face as he hung over me, hungry look in his eyes. I forced the poker up and into his chest then swiftly twisted it and forced him back.

I didn't look back as I got up using the wall, that was covered in dried peeling blood, to get up and run. There was six feet left, but I had to take it at a slow pace. I could hear the demons laugh as I reached the door and thrusted it open.

Landon and Thomas grabbed me and pulled me to safety as I glanced back to see the demon feasting on Richards blood and to see the souls of those in the hallway cheer. They were set free, and I thought for a second I saw James again, for the last time before the light took him.

It took a few months, but my leg was fixed as well as my arm. I could walk normally and had little fears about our new home. We gave up the murder house, now it's a memorial for those that died in the house and if I visit I can see the souls of those I helped, I just can't seem to find James again.

"Would now be a good time to say I told you so?" I heard Landon ask as I stumbled while walking. "I knew you'd still have trouble walking. Let me help you."

That's when it all connected, James was with us. He was a part of Landon, that's the brother comment from the ouija board meant. I couldn't help but wonder if Landon knew, or if James was just a side to him that I now noticed more often.

I've learned that sometimes ouija boards, voodoo, demons, gore, horror and ghosts should be left to the movies or those with a death wish. They aren't play toys for a halloween joke, or something funny to scary people with. These things are real and I pity the fool who thinks otherwise.

Welcome to the Murder house. A personal hell for those that died here, while others make fun of it. A ghost saved my life and lived through all kinds of horror, good luck. You're now in the murder house. Do you feel lucky?