What Sort Of Person....?

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic


What happened to Edward Ellis?

Submitted: June 01, 2018

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Submitted: June 01, 2018

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What Sort Of Person....?

So I’m asking you now, what sort of person would live there?”

Greg Harris looked around at the locals, all silent and shocked. Many had tear-stained faces, masked is disbelief. That such a thing could happen to someone from their town was so hard to comprehend.

Kids disappeared, got abducted, murdered, even. But not in ‘nice places’ like their town. Almost everyone had spent their entire lives around these parts and there were few new-comers. When a new couple or family moved in they quickly became a part of the community or packed up and moved on.

There was one exception. ‘That house’, the one that everybody knew to stay away from. So many stories existed about it, none of them pleasant. One said a man had gone crazy, murdered his wife and kids and then simply vanished. Another said a witch had been dragged from the building to face death by fire. While she was still conscious, she uttered a curse on the house and any that ventured near it.

Other stories existed but most had been lost over time, becoming twisted and distorted to resemble one of the main two. Most of the population laughed it off as purely superstitious nonsense, at least allowed, but everybody stayed away from the place and warned their kids to never go anywhere near it.

Edward Ellis had been a good kid. Everybody agreed on that, and his family had lived in the area for generations. He was a curious boy though, and maybe saying stay away was not the best thing to have done with him. Perhaps, the locals thought, he’d found himself unable to resist the need to have a look.

The fact that his bike was found abandoned at the other side of town meant nothing. No, something had happened to make him leave it there. Somebody must have come along in a car, picked him up and taken him. The police insisted that he fell into the fast-moving and deep river that ran not far from where the bike was found. No body being discovered meant that the locals carried on with their suspicions.

The house itself was a strange building. Wooden in construction, it had weathered over time, becoming dark in appearance. It was a large house, with a couple of those attic rooms that almost seemed to perch on the steep sloping roof. It was kept in poor maintenance, with every single window and door boarded up, with planks of wood nailed securely in place.

It looked empty, abandoned but they knew that was not so. Wasn’t there the occasional night when someone had reported seeing a car with black windows leaving the property? But who saw it when everyone avoided the place like the plague. It was Greg Harris. He admitted it, that he came out that way sometimes to do a spot of hunting.

The fact was that someone was either living in, or occasionally using the house. And Greg Harris believed that they were guilty of whatever had happened to Edward.

I’m going up there, try and demand some answers. Who’s in with me?” He looked around at his gathered neighbours, challenging them to stand with him. “Anyone?”

One by one the neighbours stepped forward until there were ten of them, all ready and willing to go and pay the old place a visit. Greg managed to squeeze them into his truck, even though most were travelling in the open back part.

It wouldn’t take them long to get there, and the time it did take would be spent in rousing up hostility, aggression and one hell of a lot of bad feeling. As they turned towards the house questions were raised once more about whether anyone really was in residence.

I can only tell you what I’ve seen. And look! Over there!”

Following the direction of Greg’s pointing finger there was just a glimpse of a car headlight. It was parked up close to the back of the house.

Right! That does it!” Greg leaped from the truck as soon as it stopped moving, leaving one of the others to engage the handbrake and stormed his way towards the door. He thumped on it with both hands, shouting, “Open up! We know you’re in there!”

No response was heard from inside. No sounds of approaching footsteps, no spoken answers. Not even the opening or closing of a door.

Greg turned and addressed those that had accompanied him. “Let’s split up. Half of you head round the back, and someone take my place here. I’ve got an idea of a way to smoke him out.”

Five men walked round the back of the building only to find that it was just as thoroughly boarded up behind as it was in front. There was a car there, quite a new one, with darkened windows and locked doors, but nothing else of interest.

Greg returned from his truck with a can of gasoline. He twisted the top off it and liberally splashed the walls of one end of the house with it. He replaced the cap after dousing a rag. “Okay everybody, you’d best move back a bit.”

Do you think you should do that? I mean, it belongs to someone and if they’re inside....?”

He’s had his chance to open the door, didn’t take it so we’ll smoke him out good and proper.” With that, he lit the rag and hurled it towards the wall.

The flames caught instantly, finding little resistance with the wooden structure to its power. It spread rapidly, climbing it’s way up and around the panels. They’d not expected the ferocity of the fire and had to make a rapid retreat. Still no doors opened, or windows either, but a large crow was seen exiting from the chimney. It swooped down at them, squawking and scattering the group before taking to the skies and heading away.

One of the neighbours must have put in an emergency call. As soon as Greg heard the sirens he was tempted to flee, but he knew Edward Ellis would be inside there somewhere. He’d be hailed a hero because bad as it might be, bad news would be better than forever not knowing.

The fire crew got to work and it took a while to get the flames under control. No need to break in now, as an entire patch of wall was missing. And there in the charred remains was a body. It was presumed to be that of Edward Ellis. It did not take long for the forensic team to get to work, establishing the time of the boy’s death.

He had been alive up until a few moments ago. What he was doing in the house, why he might have been being held there were all questions that would have to be answered. But there was no disputing who Edward Ellis had been killed by. Greg Harris did not even try to resist arrest, held out his wrists for the cuffs while tears he could not control ran unchecked down his cheeks.

I didn’t know.....I didn’t know,” he said to his neighbours and friends but not one could meet his eyes.

 

 


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