We're not in Kansas anymore.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Will show you what REAL HORROR is about.

Submitted: December 02, 2011

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Submitted: December 02, 2011

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Samantha Kennedy sat in the back seat with her head in her hands and salty tears streaming down her face. She put her forehead on the cold window and looked at her surroundings. Here we go again, she thought. As her father got in and started the car, she realized just how much she was going to miss the noisy, surreal New York City.

Samantha was a typical, teenage girl with a not-quite-so typical family. With her Auburn, long and wavy hair, crystal emerald green eyes and smooth peachy skin, she almost thought she was adopted compared to her tanned skin, blonde haired, psycho family.

Her father was a High school science teacher and he was pretty strict, which is why she wasn’t really on anyone’s speed dial. He was also the type of person who got promoted, so Samantha and her family moved around a lot. Her mother, on the other hand, didn’t have a job. All she did was coach a palates class…boring. Her brother, a 21-year-old college dropout, was a useless alcoholic. Yes, this was her family and right now they were making their way towards Nashville; a place full of love, nature, and happy people. Sureeee.

 

Samantha’s father pulled up in the drive way of their new house. Her brother was the first to jump out of the car and stretch his legs; he probably wanted the biggest room. Her parents got out of the car next, without saying a word to her. Samantha looked out the window. The house was huge, if she didn’t know any better she would call it a mansion. It was a cream brick-wall house with two floors and an attic.

She gathered her courage and pushed the car door open. As she walked down the stone pathway, she realized that she didn’t really like it here. When she stepped foot in the house, she gasped. The walls were a mahogany mix of red and brown, the carpets were soft and comfortable and the furniture was already where it was supposed to be. Her mother was already cooking in the kitchen, her father was watching the Red Sox game and her brother was opening a bottle of champagne. They acted like they lived in this house for more than a year.

“Sam!” her mother called from the kitchen, “Go out into the neighborhood and make some friends”. Sam sighed dramatically, stomped up the stairs clearly irritated, dropped off her things and stepped out the back door to make her way out into the clearings.

 

 

Samantha made her way down the path and into the neighborhoods sidewalk. She felt the freezing breeze hitting against her cheek. She suddenly felt this strange urge that somebody was watching her. Taking at least five steps on the sidewalk, she turned around to find that a boy about her age was staring at her from behind his fence. He had golden hair, fair skin and had no shirt on.

She stared at him too, but he didn’t look away. It started to feel awkward so she walked up to him and said hello. “You live in that house?” he asked without even giving a hello back. “Uh, yeah” she said softly.  He snorted and looked away from her eyes, “Good luck with that”.

“Excuse me?”

“I heard the last couple that moved in there, ran out screaming faster than you can say Nashville. Claimed they heard noises and saw strange figures, sometimes I even hear scraping noises coming from it”.

“It?”

“The attic”, he grinned.

The wide-eyed Samantha turned away without saying another word. Well, that was surprisingly unexpected. Ghosts? Ha! To think she thought he was cute. She wanted to set the record straight, so she tip-toed to the staircase which led to the attic.

 

Samantha stood in front of the old staircase. She suddenly wasn’t so excited about this idea. The steps on the stairs itself had bad vibes written all over it. But no, she was doing this. She was going to show crazy neighbor guy that there was nothing in the attic.

She put her right foot on the first step. She looked down. The steps were a dark brown wood and had a red carpet down the middle of it. The carpets were decorated with golden swirls, similar to ancient symbols.

She took another few steps, courage was all she needed right now. Her legs were getting weaker and weaker by the second. There was a noise behind her. Was that a giggle? No, she brushed that thought away.

Samantha felt a cold breeze sweeping against her. That wasn’t even possible; her mind is playing tricks on her. She finally reached the top of the staircase. She placed her hand on the cold, yellow door handle and twisted it.

The door was open and as she suspected, there was nothing there. It was just a dark room. Something on the wall caught her eye. She squinted harder; is that a red nail-polish smudge? No, it’s writing. She took a step closer, and then gasped. “Welcome Samantha”.

 

That same afternoon, Samantha sat in the living room waiting for her brother to come back from his walk. He was always taking these walks after becoming sober again. This time, his drunk hours have gone too far. Just then, her brother walked through the door.

“Ben, you idiot” Sam screeched, “What type of prank was that? It wasn’t funny!” Ben looked at her like she was a maniac, “What on earth are you talking about?” he asked her.

“Don’t play dumb, you wrote something on the attic wall to scare me…you heard the rumors about this house and decided to frighten me”.

“No I didn’t Sam, what rumors? Are you feeling okay?”

Then it hit her, Ben didn’t crack a smile once…he was telling the truth. So, who could have possibly wrote her name on the wall? What the hell? Her head started to spin. She sucked in her bottom lip; it was numb. Without another word she turned around and made her way out of the black, front door. She looked at the wicked house, and blinked. Right there, on the top of the house was the attic window. Inside of the attic window was a shadowed figure…staring straight at her.

 

 

The next morning, Samantha woke up with a loud thump. She sat in bed staring at her cream-colored walls. The smell of fresh waffles burned at the back of her throat. What had she seen yesterday?

She got up, put on her Calvin Klein cashmere sweater and hopped down the stairs. Her father nor brother were nowhere to be seen.  The only person who was inside the kitchen was her mother, slaving over the dishes.

“Good morning, mum” Sam said sweetly. Her mother answered without a beat, “Good morning dear”. Samantha asked her why she was up so early, because according to the clock it was nine.

“I couldn’t sleep dear, heard noises”

“Noises?”

“You know” her mum turned around, she looked different; like her nose was shifted “probably just rats in the attic”.

Just thinking about the attic made Samantha’s stomach turn over. Sam’s mum started walking towards her. There was something different about her. Sam squinted harder. “Your nose” Sam gasped. Suddenly all the features on her mums face started to melt. 

“Oh” Sam’s mum smiled the most evil grin, “I’m just rotting”.

Just then, Samantha woke up and sat in bed. Sweat dripped down her forehead. What a dream. Honestly, she was scared to go downstairs this time.

 

After Samantha got out of bed and got changed, she decided to skip breakfast so instead she went outside for a walk. She could use the air.

Samantha stood at the pathway. She inhaled the biggest gulp of air she ever breathed in, and exhaled as loud as she could. She jumped at the sound of someone clearing their throat behind her.

“Oh, it’s you” Samantha said uninterested; it was ghost boy. “I almost didn’t recognize you with your shirt on” she teased.

He grinned, “You saw something didn’t you?” then started giggling.

Samantha gasped a gasp of knowledge. “It was YOU! You were the one who wrote my name on the wall, which by the way; I never told you. Plus, it was you who sat in the attic window. How did you get into my house?”

The strange boy popped his collar, “I have my ways” and with that turned around and walked away.

Samantha watched him walk away; of course he just made those things up to catch her attention…duh. He stopped half way across the pathway and turned around. “Although, I wasn’t kidding about the ghost stories I told you, those are one hundred percent real” then walked away.

Samantha stood there in awe. Maybe they are real; she did keep hearing scraping sounds and seeing figures. At that moment, she heard someone sniff behind her. She looked over her shoulder, but there was no one there.

 

That night, Samantha sat snuggled in the corner of her new couch. Her little 6 year old cousins sat on the other side of the room playing with the dolls. It was a Friday night, and she was the only 15-year old stuck babysitting because her relatives decided to go out.

She twisted her gumball machine ring around her finger, took a deep breath and counted down from 100-0.  Her heart didn’t slow down; it sped up as she counted the useless numbers. The blood circulation in her finger stopped so she took of the ring and plopped it on the violet pillow next to her. Her neck started to crane, so she looked up.

Plop.

Her little cousin named Judy, dropped her Barbie doll the floor and left it there. Her back was to Samantha, but Samantha could tell that she was looking at something in the corner of the wall. Judy hugged her twin sister Melissa and screamed. Sooner or later, they both started screaming and crying and pointing at the same spot in the corner of the wall.

Samantha cocked her head. What was all the fuss about? She asked them what was wrong, and they just kept screaming that it was right in front of her. Samantha saw a shadow out of the corner of her eye, but when she turned her head, there was nothing there.

 

What seemed like centuries later, Judy, Melissa, and Samantha’s parents finally came back home and picked up the little girls. Samantha had to spend the rest of the four hours explaining to the girls that what they saw what just a frantic piece of their imagination, hopefully they bought it.

Samantha was tired…very tired. What she really wanted to do was go upstairs and take a hot bath. She ran upstairs and walked through the yellow walls of her hallway until she reached the bathroom. She walked inside and locked the door. She looked around, the tiny window to the side of the egg-white sink was latched close; maybe her parents were changing the boarders. She turned the bath tap and let the warm water run between her sore fingers.

She turned around to find her reflection staring at her in the mirror. She had black rims around her eyes. She didn’t sleep in days; she was under a lot of pressure because of this freak house. The bath was finally full. She got undressed and dipped her toe into the water. Perfect…she got in.

She sat and soaked herself in the water, but she still couldn’t relax. A branch snapped outside, followed by another one and another one. Samantha’s pulse sped up. Why was she so stupid to take a bath at midnight? The water started to turn cold, which was odd because she just got in literally five minutes ago. She looked down, the water wasn’t transparent anymore…it was red.

 

Samantha sat in the bath tub. She rubbed her eyes but the color of the liquid that she was helplessly sitting in stayed red. Finally, she managed a scream, and boy did she scream. The liquid was rising; she had to get out of this hell hole.

She got up and grabbed her towel, splashing the floor with red liquid. No matter how hard she tried, the towel would refuse to soak up the fluid. She slipped and hit her knee on the floor, hard. She quickly crawled across the floor. As she reached for the door handle, she caught a glimpse of her reflection.

There in the mirror, was another Samantha. That Samantha didn’t have lips. Replacing her lips was a black hole in the shape of an O, much like the grudge. Her nose, well…she didn’t have one. Yes, no nose; just clear skin. Her face was filled with bleeding cuts and bruises. Her eyes with red, as if they were poked with a thousand needles. The girl’s eyes were also filled with hatred, and they were staring right at Samantha.

Samantha screeched so hard that the white walls and red floor vibrated. She picked up the bar of violet soap and threw it at the mirror, leaving it to shatter to pieces. Samantha ran out of the bathroom, and bumped into her father on the way. He ran to the bathroom, and Samantha followed him. This time, her mouth really did drop into an O-shape. The water was transparent, the mirror was in one piece, and the other Samantha was nowhere to be seen.

The next morning, Samantha woke up and sat in bed. Her head was throbbing, and her mouth was dry. She could still remember everything that had happened yesterday and one of the main points was that it was not a dream. Red became the color she detested now, and it was all her own fault.

Today was the first day of her new school, and she was not up for it. It’s going to be the typical high school that she moved to every few years. A place filled with over-confident athletes, too-good-for-you girls, and the covered up shy nerds. Yet again, Samantha wouldn’t fit in. She considered herself in the ‘other’ group.

“Sam” her father called from downstairs, “You best be on your way downstairs because I won’t wait any longer”. Sam groaned and got up. She chose her best outfit and examined herself in the mirror.  

The purple tank top and white cardigan really brought out the green in her eyes. Also, her brown hair was looking smoother than ever. Her ripped skinny jeans outlined her curves. Perfect.

Her father called her name again. She picked up her Jansport backpack and galloped down the stairs.

She was dying to get away from this place she was forced to call a home. She walked outside the door and noticed her neighbor peeping at her. She rolled her eyes, flicked her hair, got inside the car, and her and her father drove down the silky black road.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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We're not in Kansas anymore.

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