Creepypasta Wiki

Act 1[]

The huge house was old, and every plank seamed to creak and moan with old age and pain. Every painting was ancient and covered in a blanket of dust. The doors were heavy to the touch and made of old, dark wood. The house was raised in the 1700's by a rich man who lived alone with his six-year-old daughter. His wife had died in childbirth, and Marielle, his daughter, was the most precious thing in his life. She was a young, happy girl with long, black screw-cork-hair and light green eyes. She was like a small porcelain doll of her mother.

One day, the maidens came to the elderly man's bedroom to serve him breakfast. However, the man was not there. The servants looked everywhere for him, but neither he, nor Marielle were to be found. Many years later, the house was put up for sale. Since there was no family left to take it over, and neither the father nor the daughter had been found.

Over the years, the house was sold to multiple families, but the same fate happened to every family. First the fathers would disappear, then the children; but all women were found, killed. For centuries, the house piled up in its body count. Rumours of a murderer spread across the county, but when decades went by, and the tragedies kept on, the explanation evolved. Ghosts, daemons, Satan himself. No one could agree on why it was happening. The offers for the house sunk quickly, and the large house became the home only to dust and rats.

Everyone in Yalisburg knew the rumours of the haunted mansion by the forest. Parents ordered their children to stay away from the large, rotten fence which surrounded the property. Even the surrounding wildlife had seemed to stay away from it. The fact that it was still standing was a shock to many. It had a good foundation and was made more of stone than wood, so perhaps its survival was not that impossible. There was also the old groundkeeper and his apprentice, who kept to always keep it ready in case anyone was crazy enough to buy it.

The year was 2010, a polished, silver-coated, modern hybrid steered over the gravel road up to the Old Husmand Manor. Behind the wheels were a man in his early forties named John Cabbers. He was a successful engineer whom just got the five-year job of overseeing and leading the re-designing the new courthouse in the town. By his side, in the other front seat was his wife, Meadow, whom had, for her husband, just applied for a position as a chemistry teacher at the local high school. In the back seat, sleeping, were the two smallest members of the family; Their son, Frederick, and his loving companion, the loyal medium-schnauzer, Atlas.

John parked the car and looked up at the house. It was large and looming with gothic architectural designs. The house had no outer coat, but it seemed in near-perfect condition. Yet, when John looked up at it, he felt a sickly, cold feeling down his spine. He turned off the engine and reached back to wake his son.

"Freddy, buddy. We are here," he said. Frederick opened his eyes and let the words sink in. His face was quickly rid of all signs of sleepiness. He shook his dog awake and they bolted out of the car like horses at a race.

"Is this our new home? Oh, John: it looks haunted. Remember the stories all the locals told," Meadow said, her voice careful and a bit scared.

"That is only superstition, Meadow. And there were no other houses up for sale. Besides, this house was a steal," John replied, smiling reassuringly.

John opened the front door of the house with a large iron key, the door swung open with a long-winding moan. The hall was covered in dust, the only sign of having been visited recently were the two sets of trailing footprints in the deep layer of grey powder. Frederick, whom were in the age where his mentality shouted that nothing was dangerous, and nothing could hurt him, ran after Atlas into the house, sending the dust flying into the air. John and Meadow coughed slightly and waved the dust away with small smiles.

"Frederick! Be careful!" Meadow shouted after her son as she felt a cold strike of electricity down her spine. John looked at his wife and smiled slightly.

"The electric company comes tomorrow morning to start working on setting up electricity. Until then, we should clean the house." John smiled as he went up to a window and opened it.

Further into the house, Frederick found a small door in the wall. It was not really pronounced as it was covered by the same, faded pink with green flower designs wallpaper as the rest of the room. What made it visible was the thin strip where the wallpaper had been parted between the wall and the door. Curious, as most children at his age were, he wondered what could be on the other side of the door. A secret passage to another world? Maybe a hidden treasure? Or even a toy room? His small fingers managed to grab a hold of the small doorframe and pull it open. It was very dark in there, but after a few seconds, he saw that the room was full of old dolls. Their eyes seemed to fasten to his, and their white faces were showing painful and sad grimaces. Frederick cried out in fear and closed the door before running to his mother, scared out of his wits.

The night fell over the house, and after Frederick had become scared, it was not easy to make him go to bed alone. In the end, John let Atlas stay in the boy's room, so that he would feel safer. This finally made Frederick calm down as he agreed to go to bed. He snuggled into his bed, and Atlas laid down beside him.

Frederick awoke suddenly, from the feeling of being watched. He opened his eyes and looked to the door, expecting to see his father or mother checking on him. Instead, he saw a little girl. She had curly, dark hair and her skin was pale as porcelain. She smiled to him before she turned and skipped down the hallway, giggling and singing on what sounded like an old nursery rhyme:

Look here, look here

Little brave soldier

I'm here, I'm here

For some more

Small hands, small feet

A scream

And now I am no longer

Frederick was unable to sleep that night, as he hugged Atlas and whimpered in fear; praying for the daylight to appear and save him from the cold clutches of the night.

As soon as the sun peaked over the horizon, the young boy scrambled across the hall and over to the room his parents were sleeping in. He shook the groggy adults until they had no choice but to sit up. They looked at Frederick, Meadow was a mess of brown hair and John grumbled an, "It's barely 5 am." Yawning.

"I'm hungry," the boy called out, trying to mask his fear.

Act 2[]

They sat down at the table for breakfast at the local Wendy's. Frederick had barely spoken the entire morning, and barely ate at his scrambled eggs and sausage. John and Meadow understood that something was wrong and observed their son.

"Freddy? Are you all-right?" John asked with a concerned wrinkle in his brow. Frederick tensed and looked at his father. He lowered his gaze, fumbling with his small hands in his lap.

"I saw something in the house last night," he whispered meekly. His parents shared a worried gaze.

"What do you mean?" John asked, hesitating.

"A girl," Frederick whispered.

Meadow tensed and looked at her husband. "John?" she said silently. John just shook his head and smiled.

"You probably just had a nightmare after all the stories," he said, ruffling his son's hair.

Later, when they got back to the Husmand Mansion, Frederick and his parents looked around to decide where they were to have the different rooms, describing the decorations and paint. After a while, the child managed to relax. He smiled and hugged Atlas, whom was chasing large flakes of dust in the air.

A couple of days later, Frederick hugged his father goodbye as John was leaving for work. Willow was still uneasy when it came to being in the house, so she took Frederick and Atlas to the park. It was Friday, and Frederick was starting at the local school on the forthcoming Monday.

After a long, fun afternoon, they returned home. It was John's turn to make dinner, so they had saved up an appetite. John was a great cook.

Strangely, the house was empty, when the three came home from their day in the park. Meadow saw that her husband's car was in the driveway, so he should have come home. She got her phone out of her pocket and called John's phone. A loud ringing echoed through the house and Meadow began walking towards the sound on shaky legs. Further inside the house, laying on a layer of dust, was John's way too expensive phone. Its cracked screen glowing brightly with an image of Meadow, smiling brightly and the text "Beautiful wife calling" on top of the photo. The phone shook and buzzed until Meadow closed her phone and picked up John's. She swallowed and looked back at her son.

"Frederick, get into the car," she said and looked around herself like a frightened animal.

Frederick did as his mum ordered. He felt scared. When Mom was scared, something was wrong. He ran outside and climbed into the car. He slammed the door behind himself and looked out the window. He waited, fingers growing numb as he clutched at the seat belt, and waited. He jumped and let out a small, scared shout as he saw Atlas run into the house, barking. Frederick whimpered in fear and opened the car door.

"Atlas!" he shouted, but he got no reply.

No grey dog ran back to him. The boy swallowed and jumped down from the car and called out again. He continued to call out for the dog, but the house stayed silent. He began shouting for his mum as well. Still no answer. He entered the house, his shouts turning to hushed whispers. Despite the sunny afternoon outside, the inside of the house was dark and damp. Chills jolted down his spine as he heard faint, small footsteps above him. Frederick felt scared tears press behind his eyes and he began running, looking for his mum and dog. A humming laugh echoed faintly around him as he ran. It did not grow stronger nor fainter, but kept the same strength in volume. It was as if someone were toying with him.

He stopped by the door into the kitchen, where he saw his mom, laying on the floor with her back to him. Frederick called out for Meadow with a shaking voice that echoed in the complete silence. A shifting sound came from where she laid, still. A pale face, framed by black corkscrews rose up from behind the body. The small girl cocked her head and chuckled. Frederick screamed in fear and sprinted off, trying to get away. He saw the room he had went into when he first got to the house the week before. He gulped and looked at the small door in fear, but then he heard the song again, each line was louder and closer:

Look here, look here

Little brave soldier

I'm here, I'm here

For some more

Small hands, small feet

A scream

And now I am no longer

Frederick sobbed as he opened the small door and crawled into the dark room with the sad and scared dolls. He closed the door behind him. Amongst the dolls, he saw a doll which wore a suit identical to the one his dad had worn before he had left for work earlier that day. He sat down beside what looked like a large, thin doll, clasping his knees and sobbing into them. He almost screamed as he looked over and recognized the doll as a skeleton. He crawled closer, carefully, tears rolling down his cheeks. He looked at the skeleton woman and saw that from her skull, hung long, black corkscrew-hair and in where her stomach would have been, was a small pile of bones.

Frederick heard Atlas whimpering outside the door. Thinking he could get his best friend and save him, he bolted out the little door, where he stood face-to-face with two glassy, green eyes and a porcelain face.

And thus, goes the story that is told around my hometown. The remains of the house is still around. And at times, two incredibly lifelike dolls; a little boy and a girl are seen in the ruins, the boy holding a dog-plushie in his arms.

Written by MRNorthway
Content is available under CC BY-SA