Ambushed in Penumbra

II

Mark heads home and takes a pit stop at the garage where he works. "Rob you here?" He shouts for his coworker and co-manager of the garage.

"Yo, Mark." Robert slides out from under a retro 1969 Porsche 911 T. He stands and wipes the oil from his hands then goes to shake Mark's hand.

"Look I'm sorry to hear about your nan man. Depressing times."

"I'm all good. Just not sure what to do with the house, and the.....ashes." Mark coaxed as he eyed the container that contained the forever haunting ashes.

"What house?" Robert chimed back, ignoring the topic of ashes.

"Grandma's, she left it to me and everything else too."

"Just sell it mate."

"I'm gonna have to go clean it out first. Grandma had a lot of old junk." Mark choked as he recalled the rebarbative residence.

"Well how about you and I take a road trip tonight, check the place out; and we can take this baby out for a test drive out on the open road." Mark laughs at his idea, loosening up a little.

"I knew there was a catch. There's always some ulterior motive with you ain't there." Mark jeered.

"Ah come on don't tell me you don't wanna ride it. Besides, the owner ain't coming for it until the end of the week. What do you say eh?" Robert's yet another fascinating idea got Mark thinking to himself for a few minutes.

"Well, it'll be good to check it out, see what needs to be done." Mark jibed, unsure of what misery this decision would bring.

"YES, road trip baby!" Robert shouts with excitement.

"It feels good man. Never thought I would have the chance to ride one of these beauties." They carry on their journey with simple chatter and radio music until they finally reach the town and take a pit stop to fuel up on petrol. With the only car at the station that didn't take pretty long.

"This place looks dead as hell your granny must have really loved it here." Joked Robert.

"Shut up man, we're close though it's about a mile up ahead." After paying and stocking up on snacks, they drove the last mile until they reached a debilitated deserted disheveled road. Mark suddenly gets a discouraging ambiance. Both of them get out of the shiny car to be met by the creaking broken gates of the house. Robert's dog starts barking relentlessly at the gates.

The rusty brown paint was barely visible on the fragile gates that held on to its dear life. The could collapse any moment. The house looked scarcely upright as overgrown weed climbed its way up the walls. Bramble bushes on either side were now all saggy and dead because of the winter months.

An atrocious black crow rested at the tip of the roof, alleging his dominance over the house. The obsidian animal peered at the two unwelcome guests. An old cotton field surrounded the ancient house, in an attempt to brighten the agonies of death which the house bellowed at the guests. However, to its dismay, the cotton field ought to carry the deadly spirits, as the colossal trees hazed the field.

"Wow, this house looks old! When do you think it was built?" asked Robert breaking Mark out of his trance.

"I don't know, maybe the late 50s or 60s. Looks pretty damn old though think it might fetch a good price." Believed Mark.

"I want to get into bed, let's go inside." An overly drooping Robbert hinted.

The two made their way inside the driveway. The gates making an annoyingly screeching sound as Mark pushed them. The rusty gates left a charcoal imprint on Mark's hand.

"Be warned about the agonies of death that the house brings!" A voice intoned.

The two men jumped and turned instantly to find an old man in a red robe standing in the driveway.

"Who the hell are you? And what are you after?" Argued Mark

"You dare not stay here long boys; the house will make you crazy." The old man spoke cryptically and walked away mumbling to himself. The two men shrugged and carried on into the house. The old rustic key took a while to turn until the vintage locks finally turned open and revealed a musky hallway with brown wallpaper coming off the walls and wooden floors covered in dust.

"Whoo guess grandma really let the place go. I'm gonna check out the bedrooms." Robert runs off upstairs leaving Mark to explore the ground floor. Mark walks in each room finding the same pattern of décor – dull and brown with velvet green curtains draped on the windows. Yet although they all looked the same, there was something very unique and odd about each room. He walks into the sitting area where he finds an antique rocking chair looking out the scenery through the tinted window. That's where Adelia must have passed away, Mark thought to himself.

Shivers ran down his spine and he immediately turned to walk out until a gush of wind hit his neck. The window had somehow flung itself open letting a harsh gust in. Mark shifts to close the window but as he moves, he hears a creak of the door just outside the room.

"Robert, is that you?" Mark walked towards the ajar door of what seemed to lead to a basement. He anxiously gripped the handle of the door, every moment felt as if there is a vigorous force dragging him towards the basement. Just as he was about to open it, Mark feels a hand on his shoulder.