Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-27110353-20151024031334

There was a house, it was a fairly decent sized house, but with little to no windows. The few that were there were stained so bad that it wasn’t possible to see inside, this house belonged to no one, and the property belonged to no one. People wondered who lived there, but none dared to venture inside. The house was wooden, the dark brown material rotted, there was a chimney, but it was partially collapsed against the side of the house, nearly destroying the wall. The front porch was still and quiet, a subtle breeze swept against the house, rocking the porch swing. The sense of something was there, it was present, and the rotting stench of death concealed the place like a dreadful, volatile substance, nauseating and vomit-inducing as it blanketed the property. The furnishing of the house was still intact, as if someone had left it in case they returned to the estate. But no one had. There was a light though, the upstairs chamber, the location of the only bed in the house, a light constantly burned, a candle maybe. Throughout the night it would burn, even during a drizzle, when the room’s ceiling was divided, one part covered by the yellow wallpaper, and the other crumpled from the faulty house structure. During the pitch of night, residents of the township of which the house was a part of, would stare in disbelief at the light. But no one dared to enter.

The man looked at the house, its structure collapsed, he stepped forward, and the townspeople gawked at the man, he who had the inner pride to approach the building. One foot was lifted and touched the first step of the porch. The folks around him gasped, no one had ever set foot on the porch, let alone inside the house. The man was clearly not right in the head, batty, nutty, he was insane. He went up another step. From the bloom, a wail so loud the man jumped back off the steps and fell to the ground, the wailing was constant, as if someone were being sadistically eviscerated inside the house. The man stared in terror at the structure, short of breath, sweating, clearly startled. The wailing stopped after a time, and the man got to his feet. He took a step towards the house. The townspeople took a step back and stared, the man quickly without hesitation, and as quick as an animal, bounded up the steps, and flattened his body against the door. The people were stunned; they started to walk forward as well. The man was panting at the door; he breathed a sigh of relief. Without warning, the door seemed to fall off its hinges and fell to the ground; he fell inside as well, and twisted his body so he could roll before he impacted the ground. Sunlight poured into the house, the furniture was covered in white plastic, each with layers of dust so thick, it seemed like the furniture had been there for centuries. The man stood up, and turned around at the sudden disappearance of the light. He was in pitch darkness, the door had seemed to vanish, suddenly frightened, the man started pounding on the wall, desperately trying to find an escape. Eventually the man turned, the house was quiet, there was a presence, upstairs, it seemed to be calling to him, and he walked up the steps as if in a trance. He got to the bedroom from which the light came from, he opened the door, there was a single bed, a nightstand, and the entire floor was covered in mirrors, broken, clean and clear, stained, mirrors. Everywhere. Suddenly, the house became still. Not a sound, no crickets, no creaking of the house, no breathing. The man was mute, he couldn’t say a word, he stepped towards the bed, the outline of a shape lied in the center, and every footstep rumbled the house. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6 steps, each one louder than the other, he approached the bed, the outline was still. He reached out and yanked off the cover, the man started convulsing, he shook violently, blood started pouring out of his nose in a flowing stream, his vision blurred, blood flowed from his eyes, his pupils red, his skin started peeling off in strands, his hearing became a long high pitched shriek, blood came out his ears as well. His hair fell out in clumps, chunks of flesh fell to the floor, his body bright red in fresh blood, the floor was soaked in the substance. His body looked like the house, old and rotten, his eyes fell out of their sockets, and he fell to the floor, a puddle of blood surrounded him. He looked up one last time, He screamed.

The townspeople outside stared at the house, not a sound had been heard since the man had entered, The crickets and cicadas buzzed so loudly it was maddening, suddenly, the window where the bedroom was crashed, the body of the man came flying out of the window, airborne, and fell to the ground. The man landed head first on the ground, His neck snapped in half with a sickening crack; bone stuck out of his arms and legs, his face was swelled. His eyes blood shot, blood stains around them, around his nose, mouth, and ears. He lay as still as a corpse, what he had become. No one had entered the house before, and no one had entered since. The rotten exterior of the house caused it to collapse soon after; all that remained was a pile of rubble, every once in awhile, a light came from the rubble, a small but noticeable light, it went out though, the rain, the wind, and just randomly, it went out. The light, it went out. Out. Out. Out. And the screams of the man could be heard every night as the townspeople wept with fear and bent over to take the punishment of the damned. The screaming, at the house outside of Henderson. 