The Marvin House

IT WAS HALLOWEEN

It was Halloween. Every household on Coven street was set up with colorful lights, hanging dummies, jack-o-lanterns and spider-web mummified decor. Every household except for one: the Marvin house.

There stood a particularly frightening house on Coven street, commonly referred to by locals as the Marvin house, named after a deceased line of Marvins, a family known for practicing witchcraft who once lived there. The Marvin residence was one of the oldest establishments in town, and most notably haunted. Not having been occupied in decades, the house sat in an isolated cul-de-sac at the end of the street, wrought with black fencing around it's grey and dilapidated structure. The grass in the yard was always unkempt, overgrown with wildflowers. The tall, two-story windows facing the street were permanently covered in a thick grime. A ghastly looking household, slowly falling apart every season it remained untouched by caring, human hands.

After a long night trick or treating, two boys looked around for suspicious neighbors before sprinting into the abandoned cul-de-sac. The Marvin house was creepy enough during the day, but at night it came alive in the most sinister meaning of the word. A crow perched on top of a disheveled mailbox and squawked at the boys as they approached the sullen looking home. The pair snickered and crept through a hole in the broken fencing.

A small garden snake slithered past their feet as they approached the splintered porch. The front door was a faded red with an old-fashioned black handle. An odd-looking door that for some reason was slightly ajar. They pushed the door open and it creaked and dragged on the dusty, wooden flooring.

At first glance, the insides of the Marvin house were barely visible, only pale moonlight glimmering through a window could be seen. They turned on their flashlights, revealing the true nature of the Marvin home: a bleak vessel for vandals and hooligans. Cans of spray paint were scattered across the rooms, and the kitchen was stripped of all essential appliances and cabinets. The house was simply unwelcoming.

The boys shuffled into what was left of the home and slammed the door behind them. Dust trickled from the ceiling, coating their gaudy costumes. The sound of autumn wind could be heard whistling through broken windows and holes in the roof as the pair snuck further inside. Up a decrepit staircase they went, shining their flashlights on the graffiti laden walls.

A paint-chipped room on the second floor caught their spying eyes. The room stored a large, cracked mirror which reflected an eerie full moon nebulously hanging in a dusty window. The window faced ancient oak trees in an otherwise barren, but enormous backyard. Dark clouds were rising above, and a clap of thunder bellowed from outside.

The boys pressed their masks against the window and peered inquisitively at what looked like a small row of gravestones in the backyard. It was well known that the Marvins died in the house and were buried on the property.

It was starting to rain, and the house quickly became an echoing, leaky chamber for water drops. The boys quickly traversed the damp and rickety floors of the Marvin house, finding nothing of interest aside from the words "STAY OUT" spray painted on the attic door.

The boys thought it must be a joke and decided to pull down the swinging hatch to venture inside. The attic was exceptionally weathered and nasty-looking, with only wooden beams forking across the space to walk on. The boys helped each other up onto the beams and slowly tiptoed diagonally.

The attic was full of cardboard boxes and seemingly nothing else, so they decided it was time to leave. The pair swiftly balanced their weight and stealthily crept back towards the hatch.

Right before they could reach the exit, a cold draft of air rushed past them, swinging the panel shut. The boys hurried towards the hatch and tried to push it open, but it would not budge. They frantically kicked, but their determination was not enough. It was stuck.

Their flashlights began to flicker rapidly and burned out with a whimper. The boys were now in complete darkness, and they began to feel that they were not alone.

A scratching sound like nails against plywood immediately caught their attention. From the farthest corner of the attic, heavy, unfamiliar footsteps stirred across the beams. A cardboard box fell off a shelf with a loud thud. Three more boxes followed, smashing against the beams. The boys turned and reached out to each other and yelled in panic. They found what they were looking for: a ghost.

The boys couldn't see anything, and with one wrong foot placement they both slid off the wooden beams and crashed through the weak ceiling, landing in a moldy bathroom below. Covered in broken pieces of plaster and drywall, the boys immediately stood up and shook the debris off their costumes. They pushed the bathroom door open and took off down a narrow hallway.

The two boys quickly found themselves racing towards the front door of the Marvin house when a large, shadowy figure hanging from the staircase railing caught their eyes. The boys shrieked in unison and ran outside into the pouring rain. Slipping and tripping over weeds, the boys frantically crawled back through the hole they came from, never to return to the Marvin house.