Horror on Duke Street

Reads: 15  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: ☻It's Hallowe'en


“Oh. My. Good Lord,” she exclaimed.



The room was indeed white, or rather, it had been white. Now it was red and white! What appeared to be blood splatter and tissue slid in clumps down the cupboard doors, dripping onto the counters.
Red spray lay like jelly across the table in the middle of the room.



No surface was left undefiled.

Submitted: August 18, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 18, 2018

A A A

A A A


Once Upon a Time,

 

That sound – What.  Was. That.  Noise?

 

It was the sounds that had drawn Tylah to investigate. She noticed them as soon as she got out of her car. At first she couldn’t place from where they were coming. Then a door slammed against a clap board wall and she found herself looking right inside that house, the one set far back from street as if it were hiding from something, or someone.

She really hadn’t paid much attention when the new people moved in a month ago.  They had kept to themselves and were rarely, if ever, seen by their neighbours.

Tonight, however, was a different story. It was dark… a terribly dark and cold Halloween-like night. As she made her way up the flag stone walk she couldn’t help but notice that the old house seemed to creak like it was taking laboured breaths.  More curious still was that its decrepit red door was wide open, hinges whining while the leaves in the yard were being sucked inside by the rainy mist and bone chilling wind squalls on this moonless late fall night.

Tylah was tiny, petite with pixie like features, long, curly, brown hair and bright blue eyes. She was also overly brave and fearless some would say. As she crept closer she realized that some of the sound was coming from a dog inside that was alternately barking and howling. Closer still and she became aware of muffled sobs combined with wails of tortured pain emanating from somewhere down the dimly lit hallway. She wanted to run away. However being who she was, she instead picked up a long branch blown over by the wind and used it to push herself forward since her feet seemed to be glued to the stone step portico.

Suddenly a big tabby dashed out of the darkened room on the right. Through her legs he went, making a bee line for the relative safety of the front yard knocking Rhoda-the-Witch-on-her-Broom into the pile of leaves and twigs next to the steps. All that could be heard of poor Rhonda was her raspy voice: “Now I’ve got you my pretty,” over and over…

Trying to ignore Rhonda, Tylah gathered her courage, took a deep breath and started inside to find out what was going on. Everything looked normal as she passed by the living room. So far so good, she thought. The lights were on, but the TV was muted. A book lay on the floor between the hutch and La-Z-Boy chair, like it had been hastily dropped there. A steaming cup of tea had been abandoned and left on the coffee table to grow cold.

And still the sounds, muffled words, sobbing, barking, and intermittent wails, served to remind her that all was not well. The next room, the dining room, was in darkness but further down the hall a light could be seen under the swing door leading to what she supposed was the kitchen. Two more doors separated her from the kitchen entrance. Both were closed and she hoped fervently that they remained so.

She tip-toed down the hardwood corridor, careful not to make a noise. Shivering in anticipation her adrenalin level rose the closer she got to that last door. She was not taking any chances and found herself holding her breath as she inched closer, one hand on the papered wall, the other on her branch. Closer. Closer.

When she finally made it to the last door she stopped, trying to decide just what to do - push the door open quickly attempting to surprise whoever was a party to the commotion she could hear, or peek inside, trying not to be noticed. One approach would allow her the element of surprise, the other a chance to escape if necessary.

The decision was made for her as the door suddenly opened and filling the doorway was a giant of a man. Blood trickled down his forehead, his blond hair matted and tousled, parts of it actually standing on end! His checked shirt was a mess too. Something dripped from his sleeve and the knees of his blue jeans were black and sticky looking in the hallway light. His left hand and lower arm was covered and bound with a white towel that was almost completely red at this point.

 

Behind him the kitchen was even more dimly lit with the only light coming from under the range hood. The room appeared to be all white, well what she could see. He looked like he was going to ask her who she was but instead he politely said “Excuse me.”  

She immediately stepped back as he pushed open one of the closed doors with his good hand. Apparently that was the bathroom. The swinging door had closed behind him so here she was still standing in the hallway, not knowing much more than she had minutes ago. She finally gathered her courage and pushed open the kitchen door.

“Oh. My. Good Lord,” she exclaimed.

The room was indeed white, or rather, it had been white. Now it was red and white! What appeared to be blood splatter and tissue slid in clumps down the cupboard doors, dripping onto the counters. Red spray lay like jelly across the table in the middle of the room.

No surface was left undefiled. The stove, fridge and microwave all had blood and clumps of – something clinging to their surfaces. The red mess was puddled on the floor and there were two women in the midst. One sat mewling and shivering in shock, the other stood in the corner, eyes closed muttering to herself.

The ceiling fan revolved slowly making a swooshing sound in the background spraying residual blood at the women and her. Creeping quietly from under the table came the little white, err, red dog, no longer barking but cowering and silent.

But where was the body? There had to be a body somewhere. All this blood and gunk. Someone had to be horribly maimed, or dead! What happened to create this perfect backdrop for a horror movie; she wondered silently.

Just then the giant from the hallway re-entered the room. At first he seemed surprised to see her still there but remembering his innate manners he quietly asked: “Mother, did you offer our guest a drink?”

His mother, the woman at the table apparently broke out of her trance and looked at Tylah for the first time. “Would you like a drink, dear?”

“No, thank you,” she replied still looking around the room for some clue as to what had happened in this room.

”I’m Derek James and this is my mother Elsa and over there hugging the corner is my sister Kate”. Seeing the little dog he called, “Come here Misty, it’s okay now.”

“I’m Tylah from down the street” she said shyly.

Finally she just had to ask, “What happened? I heard noises, shrieks, and cries and all the blood, all the blood… Her voice drifted off.

Somewhat embarrassed Derek began to explain. “I was setting up our Halloween decorations.  I had just finished sharpening my knife that I use to sharpen Rhonda-the-Witch’s post that anchors her into the ground. Kate had been helping me but went back inside to look for Rhonda’s buddy, the bloody Vampire figure and his mummified cat, and of course the Halloween lights.”

Kate smiled at her and grabbed a rag from the sink to start cleaning off the chair next to Tylah ostensibly so she could sit down

“I got side tracked,” he continued, “when a branch from the old oak tree broke in the wind. Going back into the house to get my knife, I forgot to close the door. Mama was busy in the kitchen, and Kate was sitting at the table unraveling the lights. She asked me to cut up the watermelon for her before I ventured back outside.”

 Derek was a big man, maybe 6’4”, blonde, muscular and handsome in a Vampire Eric, of TRUE BLOOD fame, sort of way.

Telling his story made him seem smaller somehow, she thought giving him an encouraging smile.

“Well, I was trying to balance a jar of “Kensington Gore” for Mr. Drippy the Vampire and cut the watermelon as I crossed the room. I turned to ask Kate if she’d seen where I had laid the knife sharpener when I bumped into the chair, stepped back and tripped over the dog, cutting my hand as well as the fruit…”

Startling and stumbling the watermelon and jar had flown into the air along with the attached blood, hit the ceiling fan and sprayed everything within the room. Pandemonium ensued.

“When Mother saw the blood, she went into shock,” he continued, “and to make matters worse, the dog started barking at the cat, like it was his fault. Kate had screamed when she saw my palm sliced open and after that every time Kate opened her mouth the dog howled along with her. The cat had enough and left.”

“Smart cat,” she said. “Ooops did I say that out loud?” She laughed.

Derek just smirked. He finished his story saying that he grabbed a towel to try to stop the bleeding and was on his way to wash his hand and re-bandage it when he ran into her….

 

And that my friends is the story of how Tylah met Derek.

 

. . . and they all lived happily ever after.

 

 

~ THE END ~


© Copyright 2018 Leslie Daniels. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

Comments