Arrogance

One by one the gravel rocks were kicked up off the road. He was half, maybe three quarters of a mile from the house. He felt something fall out of his pocket, but he didn't care. All that he cared about was getting away. Away from that... thing. It was hopeless though, and he knew this. No matter what happened it would get him.

He's always hated this town. James Vonn, an investigative journalist from a small town in Georgia, hates people that believe in paranormal entities. And this town is full of them. Every story you here in this town is about ghosts, demons, or other nonsense. And he has to pretend that he believes in it, or else he wouldn't have a job writing articles about the town. After all, pretending isn't so much of a big deal when it pays the bills.

Jim sat in his office, looking out his open window as all the bright orange and yellow leaves fall from the trees, smelling that autumn air, and listening to the slight breeze shake the smaller trees. He looked at his watch, and saw that it was 7:03, meaning he forgot his daily coffee, which smells of milk and honey, and has a few too many sugar packets in it. Knowing that this might totally mess up the rest of his predictably terrible day, he got up to get it late, but was stopped by a sudden voice.

"Jim," he heard Mr. O'Connell, his boss, call next to his office, "there's been another disappearance of two teenagers near the old abandoned manor up town. Police aren't going to show up until they're finished searching through the city, so you better leave quick, or else you won't have a chance with the first perspective. Everybody around here believes it was a ghost kidnapping. If you want a good paycheck this week, I'd go up to that manor and snoop around a little bit. Write about what you see."

James doesnt mind Mr. O'Connell, he doesn't treat him bad, and he's not a believer of everything he hears, like James. He does give all of the dangerous stories to James, though, maybe because he can write a great article, or maybe because everyone else will be too scared to do it. Whatever the reason, Jim doesn't care. All of this paranormal mumbo jumbo doesn't hesitate him a bit.

As he left the office, he felt a cold chill run through his body. He shrugged this off, putting blame on the fall wind. He opened up his car, and sat down on the soft leather seats. He just bought this car within the month, so the soft seats still surprise him, everytime he gets in. He turned the radio to the classic station, and tapped the beat to all the symphonies on the wheel, as he made the 2 hour long drive through the woods.

He finally found the manor, which was about half a mile from a paved road. The half mile dirt road was very bumpy, and his inhaler flew out of his pocket during his drive on the road. He then saw a car parked at the end of the road, and realized he was at the manor.

The old manor was a horrifying display of architecture. There were turns and twists all along the outside of the rooms, there were doors to the outside 30 feet in the air, and perhaps most terrifying of all, every single window of the house was broken. Jim has never once felt like something was this wrong. While he doesn't believe in the idea of entities and ghosts, something was most definitely wrong with this house. He was about to go into his car and leave, but then he smelled something. Something that made his face clench and his stomach clench tighter. If he could describe it in one word, it would be evil. But James didn't want superstition to overcome him, so he decided to go through with the story.

The front door was locked, unsurprisingly, so he climbed through the crater that was once a window. The smell was even stronger in here. He raised his shirt over his nose, but to no avail. The inside of the house was even worse than the outside. The old, weakened wood creaked and cracked with each step. The dust in the air made every breath harder and harder, especially because of his asthma. Good thing he brought his inhaler.

He made his way into what he figured was the living room, and took a look around. He saw a piece of paper, which was old and wrinkled. It was probably a couple years old. The words were written in permanent marker, and stretched across the whole page. Get Out. Those awful words told him everything he thought of this place was true. But pride is a terrible thing, and Jim is full of it. He knew that something was wrong, but once again, he vowed to never let superstition get the best of him.

He made his way through the living room, which was the biggest living room he's ever seen. There were lanterns on the wall, so he didn't need to use his flashlight. The living room was full of furniture, but it was all decomposed or broken. The chairs looked recently broken, but Jim couldn't tell whether it was from prolonged use or bugs and animals. He pulled out his phone and checked to see whether he had service or not, and he didn't. He kept his phone out anyway to video record all of his findings. After completly scoping out the living room, he found the scent getting worse and worse. He decided to find where the smell was coming from, and decided to go upstairs.

Of the 14 steps leading up the staircase, 3 were broken. The rest were barely more durable, with strands of wood snapping with each step. Each step sounded hollow, like there was nothing underneath the stairs. The aroma up there was unbearable, almost as if dead bodies and waste filled the upstairs.

He was wrong though, there was no waste.

Three. Three dead bodies scattered around the room. He recognized two of them right away, they were the missing teenagers. The other one... he had no idea who that was, but he seemed at least a decade older. The bodies were mangled and were full of nothing but claw marks, bites, and pockets of ripped off skin. The smell and sight were so awful, that the vomit he threw up next to the bodies looked like a million bucks. He figured it was maybe a wild animal, or a pack of them, but deep down he knew it was something exponentially more terrifying.

James noticed something. One of them had their phone next to their body, as if it fell out of their hand or pocket. He picked it up and turned it on. No passcode. Good. Jim unlocked it and was welcomed by a picture of the two teenagers, smiling and happy, having no idea about the horrors that would soon be upon them. They were both boys who looked similar. They were probably brothers.

The one who owned the phone--his name was Danny-- was a 17 year old junior, who had a deep relationship with his brother, Clyde. Apparently Clyde had met some homeless person named Greg, who told him a fantastic story about a supposedly haunted manor. While Danny didn't want to go, Clyde assured him over and over that nothing bad would happen, so they decided to take their car and drive up to the manor. The trip was planned for yesterday. He then looked through the gallery of the phone.

There were 3 videos, all of them he noticed were inside the house. He turned on the first video and saw Clyde and Greg, dancing around the living room, laughing, and mocking the house. For example, you could hear Clyde yell out, "Sorry Ghost, I didn't mean to disturb you, please don't beat me to death." And then laugh out loud for several seconds. This video did not explain a thing, so he clicked on the next video.

The second video was frightening. The video started off with them standing where their motionless cadavers now lay. Their faces were much less happy and carefree. They were in complete disbelief. Danny was struggling with words, eventually sputtering out that they should leave. As they turned to go back down the stairs, all he could hear were screams, three of them from the video, one from him. As the video was ending, he saw a creature. A terrifying, horrible creature. It was taller than any man, built like Bane, from the Batman comic books. It was very hairy, and it had a blood curdling smile with several rows of fanged teeth.

Go. Get out. Right now. Don't watch the last video, just get out. He ran down the stairs, phone in hand, and got his leg stuck in the missing step. As his leg fell through the step, the phone bounced out, and the video started playing. Screams were blaring out from the phone, and a loud growl. The video was only about fifteen seconds, and it ended with a bloody Danny yelling, "If you are in this house, get the f-" and then you could hear a dead body and phone smacking off the floor, somehow having the stop button being pressed on the way down. As the phone went to the ground, he could once again see the thing. This time it was attacking Clyde with one hand and biting, and strangling Greg with his other massive hand.

He pried his leg out of the gaping hole, not caring thats it was bruising and bleeding. He carefully walked down the rest of the stairs, and heard a low snarl. James froze, terrifyingly knowing what was happening. He heard the floor above his head pounding. He sprinted out of the stairway and made his way into the living room. He put his hand into his pocket and frantically searched for his keys. He realized they were in his car, and jumped through the window hole with surprising athleticism.

He bolted to his car and went to open the door. Locked. Just his luck. He tried the passenger door. Locked. The trunk. Locked. He tried the back door on the passenger side and heard a door blast open. Not the car door, the manor door. He saw the creature's smile. James ran down the road and didn't look back.

One by one the gravel rocks were kicked up off the road. He was half, maybe three quarters of a mile from the house. He felt something fall out of his pocket, but he didn't care. All that he cared about was getting away. Away from that... thing. It was hopeless though, and he knew this. No matter what happened it would get him.

He started gasping for air. An asthma attack! He quickly reached into his pocket. Nothing. His inhaler must have been what fell out. As he fell on the ground struggling for air and coughing, he saw a figure walk into his view. After about 30 seconds he could hear the growl. A minute after that he saw the smile. He's getting closer now, and no car is coming down this road. ~Dylan Clay