utterly-nerdy57-blog - Tumblr blog

utterly-nerdy57-blog · 2 years

Text

For Sale

Ka-Thunk! Ka-Thunk! Ka-Thunk! Ka-Thunk!

It had been years since any living being had lived in the old house on Bartlett Street; Bartlett Street was the most picturesque street in Apple Blossom Vale. With a row of perfect houses, until you stop at the rotting house with a dark past. Who would want to live there? Its curling paint peeling back showing the layers of faded old paint, the colors changing as the paint peeled back farther and farther; the colors going from apple green, brightest red, sunny yellow, and at last to the United States Air force Blue. The eye-like windows that looked into the souls of people who were unlucky enough to walk by. Even when the first girl scout cookies were being sold; the door was never knocked on. On All Hallows Eve when children would tell stories and dare the others to knock on the door; it was a dare never taken; who would want to take it when the blackest black night was upon them and the darkest of evils was said to wait behind the doorway. The dares started before people went missing, while the families still lived.

Shreeeek! Shlop-plop! Plop! Plop! Plop! Plop!

Everyone in Apple Blossom Vale knew that whatever you do, stay out of that old house on Bartlett Street. The story that soon tied itself to the place, did not start until Jeff McCormick moved his family into that house. The day they pulled up in their woodie with their two boys climbing out of the back and running around the yard; was a bright sunny day in the spring, with no hint of the doom to come. The man’s hair was cropped close to his head, he held himself in the manner of men who are used to getting what they want, his word was law and no one could tell him otherwise. His wife on the other hand was one of those women whom it seemed had no say in her life. Diminutive, quiet, an angel who waited by the phone, waiting for the call. Her hair was more of a strawberry blonde than a true blonde. The light green eyes of hers lined with dark circles, a pale blue at first. Their boys had their fathers' light blond hair, and their mother's eyes. They seemed as playful as the rest of the kids on the block; always shouting and runnin’. Although the kids were having fun and running about; the mother was waiting in the shadows of the porch as if she was frightened that she’d get the phone call from the police about her boys rather than her husband.

Drip...Drip...Drip...Plop...Drip...Drip...Plop

Now, Jeff married Elizabeth during the second World War. During that time he was a fighter pilot, not one of the peckerwoods but an honest to God pilot, no one knows how many enemy planes were shot down by him. After the war, Jeff had been asked by the US Air Force to go to Muroc out in California. There they witnessed many things happen from the sound barrier being broken to men being asked to join the ranks of heroes by becoming the first seven. Elizabeth was a good airforce wife, she kept the code of the air force. She was shocked when Jeff, who had been making his way up the ziggurat, was ordered to leave. It was 1956 when they pulled up.

Creeeeek...Knock...Knock...Knock... Knock

No one really knows what went on at the house. All anyone knew was the photos of Elizabeth and the kids on the walls are smiling, but the real things never did. Elizabeth didn’t smile and the kiddies never played with other kiddies.

Tick...Tick...Tick...Tick...Tick...Tick...Tick

One day in 1967 Elizabeth and the kids walked into the house and never walked out... for months Jeff acted like nothing happened then, leaving the Woodie in the garage Jeff was gone.

Creeeeeek...Thunk...Thunk...Thunk...Thunk

Not even a full year later, a new family moved into in-the Nguyens- that family had four members Allister, the father, Saini, the mother, and their child along with Grandmother Jasmine.

Pop...Pop...Pop...Pop...Pop...Pop Pop Pop Pop

It had been said that Jasmine was in the camps as a new bride, and was pretty, young. It had been days after her wedding when she and her husband were placed in Tule Lake, the largest of the camps. They were lucky for a while, things were fine, or as fine as they could be. Soon however she saw people waste away. Disease and hunger took hold of those that she knew and had known all her life, going from healthy to frail and on death’s door. Hate seemingly to have the upper hand as the world keeps turning. It was during this time that Allister was born. She and her husband were lucky in that respect, they had gained a child as others lost children, mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters. Jasmine's almond-colored eyes seemed to lose something in those years. She seemed to resent her child for being carefree, innocent, and young. Then, soon after Allester’s birth, his father died due to the conditions of the camp. Jasmine herself was almost always sick, they hardly knew if she comprehended that her husband had died or that her child was alive. When the war was over he was 4 so how could he know what happened at that time?

Crack! Crack!... Crack! Crack!... Crack! Crack!

At first, Saini smiled at the world and that child seemed so full of life. Saini was the kind of mother most women wanted to be; her dark hair was pulled back into a slick ponytail most of the time. She’d laugh and talk to the neighbors about different recipes, or how fast children grow up. Dave was a rolly-polly little thing, he’d laugh and smile at everyone no matter how unknown that person was to him. Allister his dark hair with, so much like his mother's, yet his eyes were a light brown not at all like his mother's. He looked like his father in that respect. His mother’s dark hair was black and seemed as sharp as obsidian. While his wife’s was more like the down of a baby raven. They all were friendly to everyone in the area, they went to the backyard barbeques, street fairs, and farmers' markets. Yet in the years after they moved in life seemed to drain out of them. Just like before Saini, Allister, and their child walked into the house, then disappeared, only Jasmine was out and about, even though she didn’t last then they all had gone.

Shink...Shink...Shink...Shink...SHINK

The last family to move into the house was the Hayes. Larry, his wife Courtney, and their daughter Rachel. Rachel was a teenager. The year was 1975; so much love in the world but it seemed that Rachel would have enough of it. She always looked so scornful and upset with the world and those in it. Rachel was more in tune with what the world was really saying. While her parents looked at what was going on and seemed to be in the middle of the summer of love. They were also still riding from the high of getting the right to vote. Rachel knew that their fight was far from over; she'd seen her friends disappear into the night only to end up just like Miss Holiday’s song. Strange Fruit. Larry was in the Korean war; he'd seen what he needed to see and was happy to move on, just as Cortney was happy to ignore the new war that might take him away again. They’d moved so that the horrors that Rachel had seen were no longer all around them.

Beep!Beep!Beeeep!Beep!Beep!Beeeeep!

So when Courtney and Larry went missing nothing seemed truly out of the ordinary. Then Rachel disappeared and soon not a soul in the world it seemed - would buy the house. So it stood falling apart with strange noises coming from it once in a red moon. So why did no one dare go in?

Shlop...Shlop...Shlop...ShlopShlopShlopShlop

Decades later a smell so disgusting and toxic the cops had to be called oozed from the house. As the police walked into the house, they stepped into puddles of wet blood. It adhered to their shoes...when they reached the stairwell, something fell from the top part of the stairs and landed at the officers' feet. One of them bent down to pick it up and it felt squishy and moist, like a super ball someone left in water overnight. A beam of light from the flashlight caught the almond brown iris. The eye was dropped as more fell bouncing down the stairs. The officers turned to run when the beam caught the crimson walls. One of the officers thought he heard something or someone. The youngest officer went up the stairs only to come running back down - petrified of the sight he had seen. In what was assumed to be the kiddie's playroom were piles and piles of bones. When the officer came back with reinforcements the bones were gone and replaced with blood - more blood than in a single human body. The blood dripped down the walls creating an odd pattern of something that looked like DIE WITH US. All of the officers ran out of the house and when they reached the sun they saw they were covered in blood. The youngest walked off the stoop and placed his gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger... moments later the oldest followed suit.

Bang..................Bang..............

With two dead officers on the stoop, the last officer ran to the patrol car and sent the news over the air. Soon red and blue filled the street and the police set floodlights all over the house. The blood had dripped down or had it been splashed over the walls? Going up the stairs they went from room to room and in each room, there was something more diabolical than the last. In the playroom, it looked as though nothing had happened so it was left to be found again. In the bathroom the medicine cabinet was filled with prescriptions of different intensities, all of the prescriptions were decades old. Hours passed before the door to the playroom was open again.

WEEEEEEOOOOOOOOWEEEEEOOOOOOOWEEEEEEEOOOOOOO

On the first floor, there was such a hodgepodge of things 12 different pairs of shoes in what looked to be the living room. Along with shoes in the room was a mix of board games strune so much you couldn’t tell what was what, mahjong tiles still in the middle of a game as well as an Admiral T.V. set. Then they saw piles and piles of clothing. Under that were shadows of what used to be.

Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha.................HA!

One officer walked into what was supposed to be a long hallway and stumbled over a child's roller skate - a roller skate with leather straps and its metal wheels chafed on the ears. The hall, as he swept his flashlight over it was a mess, of matchbox cars, Barbies with limp heads, headless Mr. Potato Heads’ were scattered at the part of the hall closest to him. As he moved those toys out of the way he saw some toys from his childhood in the 60s: GI Joes, superballs, hot wheels, and lite-brite. Then at the very end of the hallway, the last things were a skateboard, Star Wars toys, and a TV with Pong on it.

“Dad...Why?...Dad...Why?...Dad...Why?”

A female officer opened the playroom door after she saw she needed to be placed in a mental hospital. A flickering light like something coming through a projector showing the last moments of the McCormick family. Elizabeth McCormick trying to shield her children from what could be bullets or a shotgun blast. Then the gun turned to her children and the trigger was pulled. The doer of those horrific deeds stepped out - Jeff McCormick. Jeff took a knife from his belt and decimated the bodies of Elizabeth and her children.

Thump...Thump...Thump...Thump...Thump...Thump

At the end of the cluttered hallway, there was a stairwell leading down, on every step the dust had settled so that it looked as if death had visited. At the top of the stairs, there was a single dead mouse with its paws in the air, the bottom was almost completely covered with dead animals. As the officer walked around the basement they saw there were small gravestones with the names Elizabeth McCormick, Marc McCormick, and Sam McCormick on them. A little way off was a grave with the name in the dirt Jeff McCormick.

Snip Snip Snip Snip Snip Snip Snip

On the first floor was the kitchen which was an odd sight. On the stove, there were bamboo steamers full of dumplings and shumi, tomato soup sitting next to them. A cloud of black smoke with no smell rose from the oven, when someone opened it they saw burnt meatloaf. The kitchen table was crowded with utensils and plates. Blue china bowls sat on top of white porcelain plates, engraved crystal goblets sat next to plastic cups. It was as if three women had used the kitchen at the same time. Then they had just gone to the store to get a missing ingredient.

“Mother what...Mother!NO! Mother Please!”

The main bedroom walls were covered in blood splatters, the floor had a table with a leg broken off, what looked like the remains of a chair in front of a broken mirror. Then before the officer’s eyes were on the room; it fixed itself; the mirror had the shards fixed into the empty slots; even though the dust fell into line soon there were no cracks on the glass. The bloodstains faded away, then the broken furniture repaired itself with no sliver of wood left. Then the door opened as the officer looked into the room, they were met with a room that would soon tear itself apart. The mirror broke when an unseen thing was thrown against it. A rug near the door flew into the closet as the chairs moved on the floor creating scratches. Blood splattered across the room as the table near the door broke under the weight of someone unseen. A chair leg was tossed at the attacker it missed or was it swatted away? Then a spray of blood that hit the wall left a shadow of a small child. The next moment without an ounce of hesitation the shadow was covered in blood. Like a photo coming out of a chemical bath, Jasmin faded into the world as she plunged the knife into the child.

Eeeeech--- Crack! Thud! Thud! Crack!

Out in the overgrown garden - weeds, untended flowers everywhere. As they walked into the back of the garden wall a small cluster of gladiolas, tiger lilies, roses, and nightingales all crowded around three stones. When the flowers were moved the names Allister Nguyen, Saini Nguyen, and Dave Nguyen. A little ways were there was a path made of dead flowers leading to a jasmine plant in full bloom. Around the bush were the bones of Jasmine Nguyen.

Ba-Boom Ba-Boom Ba-Boom Ba-Boom Ba-Boom

At the end of the hall that contained all of the rooms on the second floor was a pullout ladder that led to the attic. At the front of the attic was a wall of fishing tackle and rods. Some would think that yet before that there were boxes of tools, wood carving tools, soldering iron, and some metalworking tools. This was all behind a stereo set as well as a beat-up six-string. The music instruments and stereo were from the 70s without a doubt. It was the 60s that the tools harled from. Rods, reels, and tackles from the 50s were in the very back of the attic.

“Hon...What DID YOU DO!... IS HE ALIVE!?!?!”

In a room that was decorated by a teenage girl in the 1970s was memorabilia from The Jackson Five, Diana Ross, Harry Belafonte, Sidney Poitier, and Aretha Franklin. In the dust-covered counter stood a turntable; the record had a layer of dust so thick it barely moved when the door was opened. It stopped on the sky blue carpeting now gray with dust then voids appeared in the dust. One void set looked like it belonged to an adult male judging by the size of the feet voids, the other sitting on the black bedspread, now a charcoal gray had the void of a teenager sitting on a bed. In a moment the dust flew around the room and when the dust settled there was a large bodily void. On the floor near the bed was a 6” round void. The new voids appeared in the doorway barely inches from the feet of the detective standing there. The voids moved forward as if rushing to the side of the man who was on the floor. Then the air rushed about moving the dust. A new void that of a woman's legs could be seen on the floor with a hand on the other side of the body. A few gusts of air and the outline of a woman's head were seen on the floor. Small footprints were seen walking around the bodies as if admiring the work.

Boop...EEEE...Thunk...Thud...Woosh...Woosh

As the officers moved boxes, marked with the neat hand of Elizabeth crushed by time and careless hands. On top of those soiled with what looked like water yet the albums inside were unharmed, same with the radio in Elizabeth's box. The album was in a box that had the small handwriting of Saini stating the box was full of memories. The boxes at the back of the attic were so far back that they were almost overlooked except for the odd coloration, pinkish color and it looked as if something had dried on it. When picked up it made a rattling sound like wooden toys in a box. It was opened more for the sake of posterity only to find the bones of Larry and Courtney Hayes. Looking more closely at the outside of the box one could see the faint words of Mom and Dad written in a teenager's hand. A few boxes away were the remains of Rachel and in a hand that was unfamiliar to anyone, Rachel C. Hayes was written on her box.

Click-Clack-Click-Clack-Click-Clack

You blink and there you are standing in the brand new house on Bartlett street. The hardwood floors still shine, and the tile in the kitchen is so clean you could eat off of it. The living room has a 74” tv with the internet right on it. You came to the open house mostly out of curiosity, wondering why the brand new house is so cheap. Now you know the voice had told you. The deaths that had happened in the old house, you couldn’t tell what scared you more, the happy expression of the agent or the voice in your mind that would not let up as you were led all around the house. Now that you are alone to think about it, you see in the corner of your eye that it's the owner of the voice just as you saw him in your mind. He smiled and you know that he is what drove the others to kill. He controlled their thoughts and poisoned them. He opens his mouth and asks a simple question, one you don’t have the answer to.

“How long have you been standing there?”

#horror fiction #short story #short fiction #second person pov #fiction

0 notes