Bump in the Night (WIP)

The Entirety so Far.

"Now, this house has been on the market for, well, decades. Are you sure you really want this?"

"Of course. In my spare time I can remodel, fix the house, I can do wonders. As can my wife," Carlos pauses, looking at the picture of the cabin, "I won't bore you, but she's a garden designer. So I won't be turning this down, especially if it's a quiet, secluded house."

Mrs Evans cringes for a second, her wrinkles quaking in anxiety, her eyes focused intently on the photo of the cabin. The dusty windows, the old, decaying wood.

"As you wish. But the previous owner was murdered in that house, and they never found his body. We've had people go through positively, but they all stop contacting me. Very few have said that there's something inside that house. Just a precaution; please don't try and pull apart the house."

Carlos glances down at the cabin, at the wood.

"I'll only pull off things I need changed. No extensions, but I will pull off things that shouldn't be there. Replace the wood, change a lot of the pieces to stronger, newer ones. It's fine, really."

"Okay, Mr Edwards."

And with that, they stand, shake hands, and go he leaves.

Her worrisome gaze never drifting from the photo.

Until a smirk rolls onto her face.

***

"So are you ready? I mean, cleaning the inside of the house?"

Carlos pulls into the short driveway, thickly coated in soft snow.

"Yes. It's fine, Jules. I'm parking the truck outside, I'll clean it out room by room, and move the furniture in. It'll all be ready before you get here."

"Please just don't mess this up. I can make the yard more, appealing, and you can work on the house."

Carlos parks the truck, and climbs out, dropping onto the dead grass.

"How are the kids holding up?"

"Jennifer's pissed about leaving her friends, and Dougie hasn't spoken since yesterday, and he hasn't let go of that rabbit. Make their rooms before ours. They need more time to settle in than us, don't you think?"

"Of course. I gotta go. I'll start cleaning today, I should have the majority of the furniture inside by tomorrow. I'll move their furniture up, and work from there. Love you."

"Love you."

Carlos slides the phone into his pocket, a loud exaggerated sigh escapes from his mouth as he examines the wall.

He fumbles around in his pocket, searching for the house keys.

He yanks them out, and slides the key into the lock, jiggling it in that extra few centimetres.

He turns it, and pushes on the door.

It doesn't budge.

He shoulders it, thinking the old door has just jammed.

He stops, and looks at the lock.

He turns the key back, and hears the lock slide.

He pushes gently, and the door swings open, with a loud squeak.

Carlos sighs again, and looks around the room.

A kitchenette, a dining room, and an entry with an empty fireplace, with a little space for a sofa or two.

A small cream coloured island sits alone in the kitchen, with not even a cupboard to accompany it. Just the rusting vintage oven, and a bookshelf sitting in the corner. Along with a crumpled heap of cabinets between.