The Lift-Off Into Hell

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
A mailman is delivering mai on a quiet night. he reaches a house on maple street and is thrown into a noghtmarish and very conspicuous alien abduction. Based on the picture by Harris Burdick

Submitted: September 10, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: September 10, 2012



The House on Maple St.

By: Matthew Weese

The low watt streetlamps cast the street in a dim orange glow, casting more shadows than it did light. A heavy bag was slung across my shoulders carrying the final batch of letters for the week. My breath was steaming in front of me as I reached the top of a hill and slid a thin stack of letters into 2113 Wood Oak Dr. and turned into Maple St.

The sound of crickets and frogs which enveloped the night like a soft blanket suddenly grew quiet leaving only the deafening percussion of my heart. I was about to slip a pair of letters 2204 Maple St. and noticed the build-up of letters, rain soaked and nearly destroyed pressing against the door. Then there was a blinding flash of light and low rumble rolling like thunder. I found myself on the ground, letters raining down like square shaped flakes of snow. My ears were ringing and there was a sharp painful pressure stabbing at the backs of my eyes. Sickening waves of nausea began a merciless assault against my innards. Through the ringing in my ears and my pounding heart there was a loud high pitched scream from a woman inside the house. Ice stabbed at my abdomen as I saw a woman with long dark brown hair still mussed up from sleep, but half of it was plastered to her face with blood. She turned around as a big grotesque shadow fell across the porcelain white curtains. She began to scream but was cut short as her blood splattered across the window like a sadistic inkblot test. I got to my feet unsteadily and scrambled to the door and threw it open as another loud crash shook the ground.

There are still two girls in here. I thought, remembering the deliveries, repairs, and other odd jobs I’ve made in this house. Heavy footsteps fell upstairs in long slow strides; each time it fell was an icy dagger twisting in my spine. I crept as quietly as I could towards the kitchen, but every step that I took seemed deafening. Something warm and sticky fell against my cheek; with a frustrated and panicky flourish I brushed it away. Then I stopped cold as I saw the crimson rivulets of blood running down my fingertips and dripping down from the ceiling. The ringing in my ears reached a deafening crescendo and the carpet started to shift and roil like a beige colored ocean. I fell to my knees hands pressing against my temples as my head began to pound and my heart a sledgehammer, quick and painful against my chest. The ground pitched upwards and slammed against my face. Darkness hugged the corners of my eyes. Then in the folds of the dark I saw the faces of the two girls still somewhere in the house. A soft whimper cut through the ringing in my ears. A wave of self-loathing replaced the nausea. There is still someone here!  I thought. Impetuously I clambered to my feet holding the vision of the girls, in my head, using them as an impetus to get up. The sound of a little girl crying rang through the house, just before the ground shook, the house creaked and moaned and roared as it uprooted itself and lifted off into the black star flecked sky.

I peeled myself off the carpet and stumbled down the stairs leading to the basement. The pale lights flickered casting the cement floor and pallid walls in an eerie gloom. A girl sat crouched in the center of the room, hunched over in heaving sobs. “Hey,” I said reaching a hand to her shoulder, “I’m here to get you out.”  She shot up and turned around, revealing a revolting mass of rotted flesh hanging down from her cheek, one of her eyes was a milky white. Her mouth hung open at a crooked angle twitching and convulsing as she tried to speak. She stumbled to the ground, “Help me.” She said in a croaking half-dead tone. She looked up at me, her eyes pleading for an end to the pain.  A shovel hung on a rack beside the door that used to lead to the back yard. With trembling hands I grabbed it. Tears welled up in my eyes hot and stinging. I placed it tentatively on her neck. She shuddered a little at the touch of the cold metal against her half-rotted flesh. “I’m so sorry.” I muttered in a choking voice barely audible over my pounding heart. Then putting all my strength and weight behind it, I swung. The flesh gave away with nauseating ease, and the bones crunched like dry dead twigs.

The shovel clattered to the floor, and I fell to my knees. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I held her limp body in my arms. Her ribs jutted through the ragged fabrics of her tattered nightgown, “I’m sorry.” I said rocking her back and forth. , but no amount of apologies would justify the death of a little girl, so sweet and innocent. Her face was too rotted and haggard to be sure who she was.  A loud piercing howl, cut through the dull rumbling beneath the floorboards. A girl began to cry and scream. I lowered the girl gently to the ground. An axe leaning against the wall in the far corner caught my eye. I grabbed it and ran up the stairs. I burst into a bedroom, adrenaline screaming through my veins. A sleek black shadow was scratching the closet door with obsidian talons. It turned around its eyes deep red pools of blood. It bellowed its chilling cry. The icy tendrils of fear that held me like Marley’s chains melted into a fury of hellfire and brimstone. with a roar back I tore across the room raising the axe. It surged across the room, almost completely ensconced within the darkness of the room. Instinct drove the blade downward. A loud scream of pain and rage harassed my ears. Its breath rushed hot and stinking against my face. There was a sudden jerk and the axe was wrenched out of my hands, and then it was gone. I knocked on the closet. Its door was mangled and worn. The door creaked open. The girl’s eyes were bloodshot and brimming with fear. She fell into my arms where just a few moments ago I held her dead sister. “I’m gonna keep you safe,” I said, though not quite believing it, “I promise.” A pained wail echoed through the walls and floorboards. Her hand was trembling as it slipped in mine. I headed into the master bedroom where the parents slept, and opened the closet door. I reached up to the top shelf and pulled down a gun case. I undid the latches and got to setting up a Mossberg 500 pump-action shotgun. I scrounged through the ammo, mainly birdshot and buckshot, but there were a few slugs for when Johnny and I were to go bear hunting. I loaded five rounds of slugs into the tube. The girl jumped a little at the loud Click-Clack as cocked it. I went over to the nightstand and opened the top drawer and withdrew a flashlight and some Scotch tape and fastened the flashlight to the top of the barrel. I turned to the girl, “Not as nifty as duct tape, but it’ll work.” I said as I turned it on. Pools of purplish-crimson blood ran in puddles and streaks across the room and out the door. “Let’s go finish this.” I muttered.  On silent feet we followed the trail up the stairs. At the top a light shined through the crack under the door. A shadow flitted across it. I pressed the butt against my shoulder and nodded towards the door, “Open it.” Her hand trembled and she jerked it back from the doorknob as if it were hot and making rude faces at her. The shadow flitted across again but stopped just behind the door. A low deep growling rolled through the stairwell. The door shuddered as something struck against the other side. With a loud BANG! The slug exploded through the door and into empty air. Frustrated, I kicked it, throwing it off its hinges. A chair lay cracked and broken beside the door. The streaks of blood ran towards another stairway, but as we got closer they started to grow lighter and less frequent, until it stopped entirely. It’s healed! I thought dread gripped my chest with icy fingers. I quickly bit it back. No! There is a little girl counting on you to keep her safe. You will not buckle under fear. I climbed up the stairs and kicked in the door, and stood there in numbing horror. Rows upon rows of people hung suspended from the ceiling by hooks through each of their shoulders, like meat in a slaughterhouse, while some were naked on examining tables cut open spilling the pungent odor of rancid meat and decay into the room. A pale yellow handle flew down from the rafters. It missed, but grazed my right shoulder. The girl gave a pained choking gasp. I turned and saw the handle jutting out from her stomach. Blood seeped out and dripped onto the floor. The nightmare catapulted down from the ceiling. I pivoted and fired the remaining rounds into its face. It fell in a black bloody heap. I knelt beside the girl. Her face was pale and coated with sweat, her breath ragged and shallow. I grabbed the handle and yanked straight out. Her scream rang loud and terrible through the house, threatening to wake up the dead in the room. “It’s okay the worst is over.” I said scooping her into my arms and carrying her downstairs into the basement, wanting to be as far away from the nightmares in this room as possible. I pressed her face against my shoulder as we passed her sister lying dead and broken on the floor. I opened the door leading into the furnace room. I shut the door and sat down as close to the furnace as I thought safe. She died a few minutes later. I failed! I screamed in my head. I failed to save the girls that I came in to protect. A piercing wail floated eerily through the house. I let my head loll to the side. Then I spotted the big bags of flour lining the wall. I laid the girl down to the floor and picked them up. Years of dozing in chemistry class rushing back, but more importantly a certain mixture that was going to blow up a train in London, which was discussed briefly during the safety course. I scrambled up to the closest bathroom and grabbed nail polish remover and the hydrogen peroxide. I tore open the bag of flour and dumped the contents I collected from the bathroom in it and tossed it into the fire. It snarled and howled its fury as it raced through the house. I laid my head back against the stone walls. Then the room faded into nothingness. Then I was surrounded by white, and off in the distance two little girls were running after each other, no blood stained their clothes, their faces were not rotting off, laughter like the chiming of distant bells. Then it started flashing back into reality, bitter pictures rife with compunction and guilt. Their laughter chained into agonized screams and cries for help. My eyes snapped open as something fast and heavy crashed against the door. As the door shuddered there was a loud Crack- Shfwoosh. A wave of heat washed over my face. Then everything faded to black as I fell into the blissful darkness that was death.

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