State of the Body

Chapter 1 London

In the crisp October air, I looked at the house. It was old, very old. The outside paint was worn and cracked. It seemed that the original color was white, but it was hard to tell due to all of the black mold. The windows all had cobwebs on them. One of the windows was shattered, almost like something was thrown at it causing it to crack and break. There was a large willow tree in front of the house. The leaves were yellow and orange, at least the leaves that were left. Most of the leaves, that I assumed were from the tree, were on the ground around it like a fallen skirt. There was a swinging bench on the porch of the house that was creaking as it lightly swung in the breeze. It was rusted on the metal and the wood was moldy like the house. If I wanted to write a story this would be the place. I remember when I had read my first horror/thriller story and I knew instantly that I wanted to be a writer. I had also liked the romance books, but when I came to realize that love didn't just fall out of the sky like it did in the books I started to find them overrated. 

I walked inside and looked around. There was furniture, but they all were covered in white sheets. I set down my bags and started to reveal the furniture from their white caskets. The furniture was a light florid color with white daisies. I revealed an old looking TV, it had two knobs.  I got closer to it to get a better view. It seemed that one knob was to change the channels and the other for volume. I stepped back and decided to play with the TV later. Instead I went into the kitchen and looked around. The walls were a faded yellow with brown and white tile floor panels. I looked in the fridge and cupboards, of course they were bare, lucky for me I brought some food and if I wanted to go out I could, I had money. I remembered I had a job to do and decided to start writing my book. I walked to my bags and grabbed my computer and notebook from them. I went to the island in the kitchen and turned on my computer. When it finally booted up I pulled up my file to write the book and got to work. I was about five minutes into writing when suddenly I was interrupted. 

THUMP! I looked around trying to find the source of the sound. THUMP! I looked up, what was causing that sound? Maybe it was the breeze causing the swing to hit up against the house. Scratch, THUMP! Why would the swing scratch and thump? Unless it wasn't the swing. I needed to find out what this noise was and put a stop to it, or did I? Scratch, THUMP! I listened harder and decided that the sound seemed to be coming from upstairs. I ran to my bag and grabbed my flashlight. What if this was my big break? What if I didn't need to think of a story because it would write itself from this very experience! But what if I died? Scratch, THUMP! I stopped thinking and just started doing.

 I slowly started sneaking up the stairs and got ready to turn on my flashlight. I could still see, but just in case something bad happened I needed to be prepared. When I reached the top of the stairs I looked to my left. It was a bedroom. It looked like a little boy's room. I walked into the room. It had light blue walls with white trims, but like on the outside of the house, the paint was cracked. I looked at the floor. It was a hard-wooden floor with some toys on it. Both the floor and the toys were covered in dust. THUMP! I turned around and stuck my head out the door. THUMP! Being reminded of why I came up here in the first place, I left the little boy's room and continued to search for the source of the thumping. I went further down the hall. To my right there was a bathroom, it was large for a bathroom. Part of the mirror was broken, and the shards lied on the counter under the hole. THUMP! I jumped out into the hallway and waited. THUMP! It was coming from the room at the far end of the hall.

 I walked up to the door and rested my hand on the doorknob. It was icy cold, but at the same time it burnt like crazy. I tried to turn the doorknob. It didn't move an inch. I tried to turn it the other way, but it didn't move that way either. I kneeled down and examined the doorknob, of course there was a hole for a key. A key that I didn't have. I looked to my left there was a large bedroom. I walked into it. If I could find a key, I could get into that room and find out what was making that noise. I looked around what seemed to be a master bedroom. It had a blue carpet with white walls. I saw a brown dresser with a mirror. I looked through the drawers and found a dark brown leather diary. Diary means someone was here, which means that they must have left for some reason, or they just died, I didn't care as long as I got a good story. Maybe this would give me inspiration for my story. I decided to read it hoping it would be worth my time. I opened it and started to read.

"To whoever finds this...this house is not normal, it is cursed. You must get out before it's too late. This house and who is inside is the reason that 10 people came here and won't ever leave. Also, this house is the reason I must write this note. If you are wondering, why I must write this, it's because the original owner is dead. Please leave now. I don't wish for anyone else to die because of this place, or if you read this diary be quick so you may understand and then leave, you probably don't have much time left."