The House of Shadows

[Quiet_Cool]

"You're wearing on our patience, Mr. Harris," the detective said.
I stared back, unable to respond. What could I say?
"You're trying to tell us that you need to get out of town before you fall asleep? is that right?"
I just nodded.
"And why is that again?" His partner asked. She stood behind him, looking over his shoulder. I looked around, seeing the mirror that no doubt was actually a window for others to watch through. Other than that, it was just the three of us, a table and two chairs. Not to mention the handcuffs...
I leaned back, losing heart now. And getting tired, to my dismay.
"Because I can't fall asleep...or I'll wind up back at the house."
SHe nodded, glancing toward the mirror.
"I'm not crazy," I shouted, unable to stop myself. "I'm not making this up...it's all true!!!"
"Mr. Harris," the detective seated said. "Please remain calm...we'll help however we can."
"Wallace," he said, and the woman stepped closer to him, lowering her head to his level. He whispered something into her ear.
SHe nodded, then turned and exited.
"Detective Wallace is going to go and get a car, and then she and I are going to take you to a place where they can help you. Do you understand?"
I nodded. I wasn't worried about where they were taking me. It couldn't be worse than the house was. Couldn't be.
A halfhousr later, we were driving, Wallace and Snyder in the front of a squad car and me in the back behind the mesh screen. I was getting weary, waiting for something to happen. Things were always more unpredictable beyond the house's walls. Not sure why...just alway sseemed that way.
"Look," I said. "If nothing else, then when i come up missing...in a few hours, could you at very least come and find me at the house. I gave you the address, right?"
"Yes, Mr. Harris, we can do that," Wallace replied. I sensed a real sympathy from her.
What will it do? I wondered. I knew something was coming, but what?
"WHat's this ahead?" Snyder asked.
"I don't know..."
"Wallace..."
I was looking at the floor in front of me, only half paying attention.
"Wallace, slow down," Snyder said, sounding a bit worried now.
"I can't..." Wallace returned. "The brakes...I can't slow."
The car veered to one side, no doubt trying to dodge something.
"What the...?" Snyder was shouting.
The brakes, I thoguht. That's what it had planned. It's trying to kill me now...it wants me dead.
I looked ahead in time to see a man standing with his arms spread out, trying to motion for Wallace to stop the car. A road constructin worker, his safety orange glowing in the headlights, reflecting brightly with the rain water running down it. Looking frantic.
The car sweves in the other direction, then Wallace tries to straighten the wheel and the car hydroplanes. We move sideways, the road workers behind us, watching as the car slides for about thirty feet, then strikes a pothole and flips onto the roof, bouncing back over onto the wheels, then landing on the roof again.
As the car strike sthe roof this last time, Wallace's seatbelt lets loose and she falls, her head slamming into the roof as she falls. The windows all smashed out already, she bounces to one side, her face and neck finding the remaining shards of glass in the driver's side window, which cut into her face and neck. She falls limp almost immediately. Snyder is yelling her name, reaching for her, but as the the car continues forward, now sliding on its roof, sparks shooting into the air to either side of the car, my own belt lets loose. I fall, landing on my head as she had, hoping my neck breaks...hoping...wanting to pray but knowing there wasn't enough time...

I sit up on the couch, looking around, knowing I shouldn't be there.
I should be in the hospital, I thought. Or the morgue. Not here.
The room is exactly as it was when I arrived, how many days ago, weeks ago...however long it's been?
I'd wound up here...I'd been driving, wanting to get away...from what? I can't remember. Probably a girl. That was usually what I wanted away from...the memories, or whatever, the pain of being left, or cheated on, or...what had it been?
Sweat beads my forehead, but I ignore it. I sat there, wondering...why couldn't I be dead? Why was I still here?

OOC: just the first post. Jack's (obviously) already there. The others can arrive as they see fit, though Jack will probably seem a bit "eccentric" to them...

 

[PmTick]

Harrison took a drag from his cigarette as he stood outside the hospital. The bitter cold air nipped at his face but he didn't care, he was hooked, he needed the tobacco. A plump nurse stepped outside and shook her head at him in anger, "Aren't those things what got you into this mess Mr. Aviar?" Harrison took a drag and blew the smoke out before answering, "What's the use honey, ain't got that kind of cash." "I still don' t think smoking anymore cigarettes is good for your throat." "Everyone's entitled to their own opinion. For example, I don't think that light blue uniform helps to hide your weight problem. In fact it makes you look like that girl from that movie with the kid and the candy factory." The nurse turned three shades of red in a matter of seconds. "You know Mr. Aviar, I never thought I would say this to anyone at all in my life, but you truly deserve cancer." Harrison inhaled another drag of his cigarette, "And I never thought I would say this but you truly deserve a massive heart attack." The nurse ignored him, scampering away to her car, silently weeping to herself.

The automatic doors opened again as a young blonde haired, clean shaven doctor with thin glasses and blue eyes exited the hospital. He looked over at Harrison, who smiled devilishly as he watched the nurse walk away. "Christ Harry that's the third nurse this week! Why can't you be nice to people?" "I can, I just can't stand idiots who feel they have to tell you how bad smoking is. Do I go up to her in a restaurant and tell her how bad that steak is that she's wolfing down?" "I can see your argument, still a person in your condition should think twice before smoking." "In my condition I feel great!" "Harry if you don't get the operation you could very well die." "Hell gotta go sometime right Miles?" "C'mon I know you don't mean that, your only 35 years old and I know there's probably a lot you want to accomlish in life." The two men were silent for a second. "Funny Miles, when I was a kid I always pictured myself married with kids and a good job." "What kind of job Harry?" "A race car driver, but that doesn't matter anymore, it's too late for me to do all that stuff." "Harry, I know if you stop smoking you can at least extend your life a little while to get money for that operation, plus imagine the money you would save! C'mon give me the cigarettes." "No" "C'mon" Miles manages to wrestle the cigarettes away from Harrison, "Fine take'm" "Now listen Harry I want you to go home and seriously think about what we talked about and when you come back in two days, don't make any of the nurses cry!" "Alright, alright!"

Harrison got into his car and sped off onto the highway. Once he was away from the hospital, he opened his glove box and pulled out a pack of Camel Reds. Lighting the cigarette he spoke to himself outloud, "Gotta figure out how to get that cash fast. Fuck! What the fuck you gonna do Harry!!"

 

[Lady Violet]

Morgan Light

Moving her feet just above the pavement, Morgan made a dragging sound with her shoes as she walked down the sidewalk. Her mother hated when she had done that, but she wasn't here now. She wasn't sure where she was going, but she didn't care. The night was cool and dark, and she needed to get out of the house.

At 19, she had lost everything. Her life was far from pretty. Living in her grandmothers house, wondering if her mother was still alive; she worked at the Grocery Outlet to pay the bills. Nothing had gone right for her, and because of a simple mistake she was shuned by the towns people. She saw how people looked at her, like she was a disease. She wanted out of this town.

Morgan held back the tears as she turned the corner. She saw the rough iron work of a fence before realizing where she was. Looking up, she saw the strong stone turrets of the house, reaching out towards the starry sky. She stopped in front of the gate, and not knowing why, reached out and pushed it. It opened slowly, its rusted hinges breaking the silence with a creak. A sudden bright light from door broke through the shadows, startling Morgan. She let go of the gate as the shape of a person filled the doorway, his arm reaching out towards her. Morgan froze for a moment, before finding the strength in her legs to run back down the road the way she had came.

She didn't stop until reaching her home, making sure all the doors and windows were locked. She sat in the easy chair that had been her grandmothers, using her inhaler to calm her breathing. She sat there until the first light of dawn, finally falling asleep.

OOC: i want her to wake up in the house, so maybe quiet cools character could wake her up??? hehe

 

[Quiet_Cool]

Jack

My first thought was, get the fuck out of here. I went about grabbing my things, the 9mm handgun I'd grabbed when I'd run the last time, making it to the police station and managing to drag two police officers into the mix only to get one killed. THen I grabbed my jacket and threw it on and decided it best to get out before something happened in here. I ran to the door, pulled it open and looked out.
The neighborhood was quiet, and the moon shone brightly outside. I squinted my eyes, raising a hand in attempt to shield me from the brightness coming from inside the house. Outside, in a blur of darkness accented by some minor movement, I saw a girl standing near the open gate, and thought, Shit, she opened it. That could be enough by itself, if she's even real, which she might not be.
I reached out with the arm I'd used to shield my eyes and waved for the girl to go, to run, and hoped she'd get away alright. I doubted she would though. The house would bring her back if it wanted her. The fuckin' house!
Why had she even come here? Didn't people know anything about this place? Surely by now, my name had been on the news, given the car crash and my disappearance. The police would come looking here, trying to find me, or at least hoping to find some clue as to where I would go. These people had to know something, didn't they?
I looked toward where she'd been and saw no one. Perhaps she had gotten away, afterall.
I stepped back inside, pulling the door closed, wondering if I should try to find the girl and deciding against it. I would only scare her more, if I caught up to her at all.
I closed the door, looking around the house and thinking, what if it's just a dream? Just a fantasy that's playing through my head.
I thought that every time I awoke here, and never to any avail. I wasn't insane, as much as I wished I was.
I sat at the kitchen table and thought for a moment, wondering what I should do now. I'd already gotten a police officer killed, so going that route might be for the worse. Perhaps if I left town altogether?
The house might not have power outside the town limits...that was a possibility, wasn't it? A longshot, but something I hadn't tried already.
I thought for a moment. My motorcycle was probably in the garage again (It had been every other time I tried ot run). WHere did I leave the keys?
Upstairs bedroom, where I'd awaken the first time, finding myself in a strange place and unsure how I'd gotten there.
I hurried up the steps, counting them as I went...one, two three...mentally elsewhere and knowing that was the best way for me to know when to turn right on the small landing and head up the second short stairway.
Eleven, twelve, thirteen, turn, I thought, but my foot struck another stair and I fell forward into the aforementioned landing, looking back at the steps behind me.
Fourteen? There were thirteen before...
I shrugged, standing up and starting up the other steps, counting again and finding seven there instead of six. The steps were growing.
I shrugged it off. Get the keys, I thought, and get the hell out.
I stopped short when i reache dthe bedrrom door. It should have been empty, should have been.
But instead, the girl I'd seen in the street was laying there, eyes closed, resting somewhat peacefully. I looked her over. She was young, probably under eighteen, but not necessarily. I was never good with age, and my judgement since I'd found this house had greatly suffered.
I stared at her, being as she was the first person I'd seen in the house...well, ever I thought, though it's only been a week or more, possibly two.
I wandered over to the bed, sat on the foot, and lowered my head into my hands, feeling like crying and not knowing why.
WHen i lifted my head again, having fought back most of the tears, but feeling a few running slowly donw my cheeks, I reached over and shook her ankle gently.
"Wake up, girl, whatever your name is," I whispered. "Wake up and join the nightmare..."

 

[Lady Violet]

Morgan Light

Morgan stretched out her arms and legs, and slowly opened her eyes. Her first thought was how she had gotten to bed, when she had fallen asleep in the chair. It wasn't until she had fully opened her eyes and sat up a bit that she realized there was a man sitting at the foor of the bed.

His eyes had a shadow cast over them. He looked tired and pale. Much like her grandmother when she had given up hope as she lied in her bed, dying. Morgan didn't know what was more surprising. Finding herself in a strange bed, or not seeming afraid of the man.

She pulled her legs up to her chest and sat in a cross legged position. "Where am I?" she asked.

 

[Quiet_Cool]

Jack

Where was she?
In a dream? No. That almost sounded magical, like a line from an old fairy tale. Something that might have fit in in The Wizard of Oz.
In a nightmare? That was more the case. But could I actually tell her that? Wouldn't she think I was insane? A total lunatic?
Of course she would. And she would get scared, and she would run away from me, thinking I would persue her, and she would run out the front door and out into the night. Then she'd get home, lay down to sleep, and wake up here again to relive the experience.
I'd gone through something like that on my own, not quite catching on that I couldn't leave until the third time I awoke in the house, always to something different. Once, I'd gotten up, and in a rage, thrown things around, breaking vases and lamps, overturning a bookshelf, then run out the door.
When I'd awaken, the house was inperfect condition. The vases sitting as though i'd never touched them. The books gathering the same dust they had for years. Sometimes the house "repaired itself," and sometimes it didn't. So far, I'd made no sense of it. None at all.
I looked at her, trying to appear sympathetic but knowing that she wouldn't believe me no matter how I appeared.
"You're...here," I explained (not the best explanation, but the only way to say it), glancing down at my hands as though the proper words were written on them. "And you can't leave."
I paused, knowing how that sounded and wishing I could take it back. Too late, though. Much too late.
I lifted my eyes to look back at her, but before they found her again, I heard a scuffling of feet to my left, where the door waited. I glanced over, startled, and saw a young boy of about eight standing in the open doorway, grinning at me. He was dressed like...well, like his mother hadn't quite understood that his friends would all pick on him for wearing yellow and blue stripes and corduroy pants. When his lips parted in that grin, a gap waited where his front teeth should have been.
"Hey," he said. "Wanna play hide and seek?"
I froze, uncertain what to think, then went to stand. He disappeared into the hall, running toward the stairway. The sounds of his footsteps disappeared.
I looked to the girl, not reading her expression.
"Did...did you see him?" I asked her.

 

[PmTick]

The next day, Harrison drove down to the boardwalk. During the summer, the boardwalk would be filled with beach goers from all around, spending hundreds of dollars for a teddy bear that was only worth about two dollars. The smell of funnel cake and hot dogs usually filled the air, but today the only smell was that of the cool winter wind. The boardwalk was completley boarded up and empty, no one would even walk here for months.

Harrison looked out to the ocean as he put the revolver in his mouth. He didn't want to go through months of dying a hospital because he couldn't afford to have science cure him. He cocked the gun and shut his eyes, waiting for his finger to press the trigger down, as if it were attached to another person's hand. He heard the sound of the roof's shingles lifting and falling back into place as a strong wind blew from the north, almost blowing him over. Then he felt a sting in the back of his head, had he pulled the trigger? Was he dead?

"Harry what do you think your doing?" Harrison opened his eyes, to see his Grandfather in front of his eyes, sitting on a bench right next to Harrison. "Grandpa Kenner is that you? You died when I was 6, how are you in front of me? Am I dead?" "Stop asking so many questions Harry! You always asked too many questions, even when you were a child. No your not dead! Your just visiting." "Just visiting?" "Again with the questions? You got hit in the head with one of the shingles, just in time too or you would be talking with you Cousin Drew, the lawyer, in hell right now! What the hell did you think you were trying to do?" "I can't afford to pay the doctors, I'd rather end it than suffer." "Ah but you do have the money, you just need to look in the right place."
"What are you talking about?" "Remember when you used to visit me and you and your cousins snooped around the abandoned property behind my house? Well the truth is it was never abandonded, it was used as a flop house by Tommy Six Gun." "The mobster?" "No the ballet dancer. Of course the mobster! Now don't interuppt again!!" "Sorry" "Anyway if you recall Tommy was killed in a showdown with the police in the city four days after pulling off a major bank robbery. The money was never found."

"It seems that Tommy hid the money somewhere in that house." "How much money is there?" "At least $50,000 dollars, more than enough for your doctors." "How did you find this info out grandpa?" "Let's just say Tommy and I have a regular card game going here on the other side." "Wait Tommy Six Gun, the robber and murderer is in heaven?" "No but him and I meet somewhere in between once a week." "Why are you telling me this? Is it because I was your favoite grandchild?" "No, it's because your my last grandchild. All of your cousins and sibilings have passed away without making a mark on the world, your the only person who can make something of thier life and have people talk about our family name for centuries to come." "Wow, never thought of it like that." "Well what are you waiting for? Get moving! Oh and one more thing, when you use the money for your operation, take whatever you have left over and have my body moved into one of those fancy mosoleums. I hate the idea of bugs crawling all over me!!!" "Will do Grandpa, will do."

Harrison woke up on the deck of the boardwalk. The shingle had knocked him out. Did he really just visit his dead grandpa, or was this just a dream from the blow to the head? Only one way to find out.

 

[Lady Violet]

Morgan Light

Morgan stared at the man as his face contorted into a thousand different expressions, as if he was unsure of how to portray himself. Either that, or he had a facial tick.

Here? She thought. Of course she was here, but where was here! She was about to shake the man to help him make sense when a small boy suddenly appeared in the door way.

"Hey," he said. "Wanna play hide and seek?"

Before either of them could respond, he ran away.

The man looked back at her, asking Morgan if she had seen him. "Of course, why wouldnt I?"

The man let go of a breath as he signed. "No reason" he whispered. His eyes seemed to brighten up a little and Morgan smiled at him. "My name is Morgan Light" she said as she stood up and stretched her arms over her head. "Wow, I haven't slept that soundly in years! I'm thinking maybe here isn't that bad!"

 

[Trey Fitty]

Bill Edwards, Newly recruited police officer, walked down to a rusty iron gate and stood outside. Could this old ruin seriously be the adress the loony tune had given Wallace? Well, had to start somewhere.
It seems that some whack-job named Jack had burst into the station fully armed and babbling. When Wallace and her partner had tried to take him to an asylum something had happened. Probably the nutter had managed to get rid of his cuffs and attack Wallace. Poor girl was dead now. Had a crash on the way and Jack escaped. But he had left a message that Snyder had heard: to look for him at this adress should he dissapear. Creepy fucker. Creepy ass house too.
Adjusting his grip on his pistol, Bill headed in through the gate. Fucking shadows didn't half freak him out! Made it to the front door just in time to hear tiny footsteps running at full speed. He threw the door open and burst in, but no one was there.
"What the fuck..?" He whispered to himself. "This is officer Bill Edwards. I am here to arrest a man named Jack on charges of-" He was cut short by the door slamming. Something didn't feel right... he was seriously unwelcome here...

Bill was suddenly surrounded by riot police. They could have been straight out of a Mafia movie. But the most frightening thing of all was in front of them... surrounded by the clearing smoke of a couple of sticks of TNT were the figures of none other than the deceased Tommy Sixgun and a dozen cronies, blazing away at the police with tommy guns, wearing hideous bloodstained grins. As police and mobsters fell Bill dove under a table.
Silence. Bill looked through gaps in his fingers to see something still more terrifying- nothing. Not even the puddles of blood which would at least make the previous scene not seem so chilling. With his blood freezing to ice, Bill screamed and ran to his squad car, only to trip over a crack in the pavement just beyond the gate, knocking himself unconcious immediately.

 

[Trey Fitty]

OOC: I'd like to apologize for my very brief description of the gangster scene. It was so vivid in my own mind I gave myself the serious creeps. Maybe I'm not cut out for such a freaky thread

 

[Quiet_Cool]

Jack

She'd spoken too soon. Before I could say anything in response, I heard the man downstairs.
"This is officer bill Edwards. I am here to arrest a man named Jack on charges of--"
Silence then. I looked to the girl, then to the steps, thinking, the police. I told them to come here, and they actually showed...
I started down the steps, listening, hoping to hear something down there, but not able to hear a damn thing. When i glanced toward the door, it was open, and I could hear footsteps trailing out toward the front gate. I stepped into the open doorway in time to see the man fall.
I thought about going out, then decided perhaps it would be best not to. This girl was already here, and I'd been dumb enough to lure this cop here, not realizing what might happen to him. If I left him alone, maybe he'd wake up, or be found, and not be taken in by this...curse.
I stepped back inside, meaning to close the door and forget about him, when i heard the weeds rustle to either side of the path. I looked out again, seeing small figures dressed in black robes, looking almost like an imitation of the little men in cloaks from the beginning of Star Wars, waddling toward the man, three from either side of the concrete path.
"No," I muttered. "No, leave him there..."
They didn't seem to know I was there, or perhaps they didn't care. Both or either might have been the case. They surrounded him, four grabbing his limbs and one supporting his head. The last led the way as they moved the body up the walk toward the open door. They climbed the steps carefully, having trouble stepping so high to get to the porch, then I stepped back, doing so without much thought, as they carried him inside and lay him on the living room floor.
I watched, feeling my jaw hanging slackly as I did, thinking, is this how it happens every time?
It couldn't have been, not when these little men would have to have carried me miles, literally, in order to get me here after the wreck.
They stood, brushing their hands off and turning to face me. I took a step backward, seeing nothing but shadow beneath thier little hoods, and allowed them to pass as they headed back out the door.
I watched as they moved down the steps, then took a quick step toward the door, intending to follow. The door closed then, slamming shut of it's own accord by the looks of it.
I stopped just in time, almost being struck in the head by the rapidly closing door.
And then there were three...I thought.

OOC: Trey, let me know if I shouldn't have posted this. I assumed that your character would have awakened in the house, and figured, why not have something freaky happen here. If you had something else in mind, let me know and I'll change it.

 

[Trey Fitty]

OOC: Perfect. BTW, it's daylight now, I can hack the freaky... lol.

 

[Lady Violet]

Morgan Light

The sound of a voice coming from downstairs startled Morgan, and surprised the man even more, for he darted out of the room as if it was on fire. Morgan stood there for a moment, her hands on her hips thinking this was certainly going to be a long day, and followed him to the top of the stairs.

She saw him standing at an open doorway, and watched as hooded figures carried in another man, placing him on the floor.
"What the....". Morgan stared for a moment, then began to walk down the stairs as the hooded figures left the house, the door closing them in on its own.

Looking a little paler than before, Morgan watched the man lying on the floor stirring and moaning, then noticed a bruise forming on the mans temple. "Damn, what happened to you" she said, bending down to check his breathing.

"Listen" she said, looking up to meet the other mans eyes. "I want to know what the hell is going on, so you're going to start talking. Where the fuck is here?"

OCC: if swearing is not allowed, let me know and i'll bleep them.

 

[Quiet_Cool]

Jack

What the Hell is going on?
Where the fuck is here?
Good questions...but questions that had no answers. Where was here? More like what was here, and what did it want? And what the hell is going on? She seemed to have it down right there. Hell was goind on, right here in this old house. Stalking us and watching us try to run. At least I wasn't alone now...
I stared at the girl, wondering if explaining was something I should do, whether I could do it or not. They'd think I was insane, regardless of the facts involved. She'd seen the little men (in fact, it was the first time I'd seen them as well), but that didn't mean her mind had accepted it as what it really was--whatever it really was.
I moved carefully around the two and sat down on the couch, leaning my head forward and taking it between my hands.
FOr a moment, I didn't say anything, then I shook my head slowly.
"I can't explain it," I muttered. "There're no words, and no way to make you believe me. All I can say is this...try to leave. Leave the house, go as far away as you can. Eventually, you'll fall asleep, and when you wake up..."
I looked at the girl.
"I have some more answers," I explained, "but not many. And they don't make sense, even to me. But try that first, understand that it can't let you go, and that you can't escape it...and that it wants you here."
I examined the look on her face, wondering if she could possibly think anything other than that I was crazy.

OOC: Actually, the Pope himself sent me an e-mail with this idea attached, so swearing might not be good for this thread...LOL
Swearing here, in reality, will actually be smiled upon...

 

[Trey Fitty]

OOC:
"Shit balls cockface ass bitch ho damn fucknuts scrag hell cunt screw fag fuckhead asshole Barbera Streissand!"

 

[Trey Fitty]

Bill awoke to see a girl bending over him. Well, at least it couldn't be heaven... she looked too worried for that. He smiled to her. She was pretty. Yet he was dimly aware of something... his head. Oh damn, his head was really starting to hurt! He looked around to see a man nervously and unclearly saying something... Whoah-It was that loony guy!
Suddenly Bill remembered what had happened... falling over on the footpath... Now he was back here in the house, right where he had witnessed the terrible spectral carnage!
He jumped up yelling- "Get back! Just...just stay away... Why did you bring me in here?"
The concussion was making him dizzy. "Gotta get to the car... get my radio. I'll be back with more officers! You'll be sorry!" He continued to ramble in his woozy state, heading for the door muttering. "Ghosts! Ha! Hahaha! I'll ghost your ass pal. You'll see! Gotta get some boys down here..."

 

[Quiet_Cool]

Jack

I looked at the girl as the man headed for the door, talking about getting back-up. That's what we really needed...more people trapped here in this spectral prison.
"DId you hear him?" I asked her. "I didn't say it, and neither did you, but he knows. He said it, and I don't know what exactly what he was talking about...Ghosts. Did you hear him? Ghosts."
I looked down at my feet. Damn, this was getting to be a long night...

OOC: Barbara Streissand! (*screams like a little girl and dives behind the couch*) It's official...this is a horror thread!

 

[PmTick]

Harrison pulled up to the house to see a cop car in front of it. "Shit. Front door ain't a good plan." He circled the block and hopped the fence, into the back yard of the house. Climbing a nearby tree gave him easy access to the second floor of the building. He crawled over to a bathroom window and gave it a swift kick with his steel toed boots, making sure he rubbed his foot around the inside of the frame to avoid surprise shards of glass.

Harrison crawled into the bathroom window, the hard part was over for now, or so he thought. "Alright if I were a stupid old gangster, where would I hide all that loot." He remembered hearing somewhere that Tommy was a real big drunk, probably spent a lot of time in the wine cellar. He walked over to the bathroom door and turned the handle to discover the door had been locked. "Fuck" He gave the door a swift kick, but wasn't able to kick the door down. He turned back toward the window, thinking that he would crawl out and try another window, but it seems that the window was replaced by a wall.

"What the fuck? I know I came in through a fucking window that was right there." Turning his attention back to the where the locked door had been, it seemed that the door had mysteriously vanished, as if the house had moved it for him. "Maybe it's just the disease fucking with my brain again. Yeah that's gotta be it, I'll just go down the stairs, find the cash and get out of here."

 

[Trey Fitty]

Anyone know any horror stories about crazy cops?

Spinning around a few times Billy tried to find the front door. There wasn't one.
"Huh? Where's the fucking door? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO WITH THE DOOR?? You crazy freakshow..."
His attention shifted to the stairs. There was a figure walking from a room on the top level.
"Ghost!" Yelled Billy, swiftly drawing his pistol and firing wildly towards the man. He dove sideways, searching for the door, not even seeing whether he had hit the "ghost", and began to laugh, slowly and quietly.

 

[PmTick]

Johnny followed the stairs to the bottom but they lead to a solid brickwall. "What the fuck? Who designed this place?" He heard gunshots and screams coming from past the wall. "Hey is someone there!" He suddenly felt as if the walls were growing until he looked down and realized that he was actually sinking, the floor had turned into quicksand.

Johnny clung to the bottom stair as he watched the brick wall begin to sink. Suddenly a gullet whizzed past his head. Johnny screamed and ran back up the stairs. "What the hell is going on here?"

 

[Quiet_Cool]

Jack

Bullets were flying, and people seemed to be popping up left and right...now there were four of us?
I sat there, my head held low, and waited, deciding that any movement might be a bad idea, even if just to dive for cover...

 

[PmTick]

Johnny hit the deck as the bullets countinued to fly, "Did someone say ghost?" Suddenly the carpet began to stir, rolling Johnny up like a cigarette. It was if the rug was trying to suffocate him. Johnny pulled out his pen knife and managed to cut a hole in the carpet big enough for him to squeeze through.
"Fuck this place!!" Johnny made a mad dash out the window and down the fire escape. He sped home and made it to his house in about 5 mintutes, the ride usually took 20.

That night he sat in his bed thinking what he was going to do now. Without the cash in that freaky house, there was no way he could afford the operation. It was almost 3:30, he had to get some rest.

Johnny awoke the next day in the clothing he wore the night before. "What's this? Thought I changed." Reaching over to his nightstand to retrieve his watch, he leaned forward and flipped out of the bed, hitting the hard wood floor. He leapt up and realized he wasn't at home. "Jesus christ where the fuck am I?"
He walked in the hallway and recgonzied the carpet from last night, he was back in the house! "Oh no!" Running around the upper floor to confirm his fear, he noticed the damage he had done to the rug the night before was erased. He couldn't help but to think his life took another one of those freaky turns.

 

[Quiet_Cool]

Jack

I fell asleep on the couch, just happy that there was silence. No more bullets, but things weren't much better. Perhaps I would have been lucky to have been accidentally hit by one of them, taken one in the eye and bled to death, or beter yet, died instantly, finding the only way I knew of for sure to escape this place...if even that would work.
I slept heavily for some odd reason, unlike most nights when i'd toss and turn, sleep for minutes at a time, then awake to look around, wondering what might be different, or what threats might have found me.
I awoke to someone touching my arm, a light smack, followed by a childish giggle.
I looked to my right to see the little by standing there, grinning.
"I hid good, didn't I? you never even found me...wanna play tag now? You're it!"
And he was running off again, this time heading back a hallway that had been a staircase the night before.
I leapt up, following him back the darkening passage, leaving the man beneath the table and the girl on the floor (I didn't notice whether they were awake or not) behind. He stopped in front of a tall, poorly lit doorway. The door was marked in various places, chips of wood taken out of it but no major damage. It did, however, seem out of place here, as the other walls and doors along the passage (there were six of them; three on either side of the short hall) were unmarked so far as I could tell.
I looked down at the kid, who was standing perfectly still, as if he were a statue. He slowly turned to me, his body keeping its poise save for his feet and ankles. When he faced me, he rose one finger to his lips (sshhh!, that gesture said) then pointed toward the door to his right and my left.
"Let's go in there," he suggested, whispering. He slowly pushed the door open, revealing a well-lit room, colorful, with light blue carpetting and various blocks, plastic trucks and cars and other kids toys laying about the place. I followed him into the room, closing the door carefully behind me, following along with his, be oh-so-quiet mode of thinking. Once the door was closed, he was his overactive self again, runningover and hopping on his bed.
"Wanna jump on the bed...it's okay, I won't tell anyone...in fact, I don't even know your mom...so..." He shrugged, bouncing up and down on the Transformers blanket.
"What's in that room?" I asked him.
He stopped bouncing.
"I dunno, but Mom said never to go in there...you have to be very quiet, or else you'll wake up what's inside..."
"Wake up?"
He shrugged again, letting me know he was finished talking for now. I wondered if he would show up again any time.
"SO what's your name?"
"Myron," he said. "Mom calls he Mel...she says that's what they used to call my dad. I was named after him."
"Do you prefer Myron or Mel?"
"Mel, I guess," he replied, bouncing again. He turned his body as he jumped, bouncing in a circle now, i guessed, but stopped when his eye s met the clown poster on the wall. he froze then, asking me, "Did you see that?"
I thought I did, too. Did the clown's grin grow wider?
He hopped down off the bed and hurried past me.
"I have to tell my mom," he shouted back. i tried to follow, moving just a few steps behind him, but losing him as he rounded the corner into the hall. As I passed through the doorway, the boy just walked right into me. I flinched, thinking we'd strike noses...He was older, this one, in his late teens, maybe eighteen, maybe seventten, maybe even nineteen, wearing a tie-dyed T-shirt and a pair of...Bell-bottoms?
I tried to stop fully, but the boy just kept walking forward. I waited for the contant, but none came...well, not exactly. He walked...through me, as though I wasn't even there. As he passed I felt an odd sensation, like I were being pulled in both directions at once,and I could hear a voice in my head, the voice of teenaged angst. "Fuckin' alcoholic," it said, and the smell of marijuana was intense for a moment, then gone.
I stepped out into the hall, realizing then that I was upstairs again...not downstairs but back upstairs.
The air smelled different though...like incense.. (sp.?)
Here goes, I thought, turning around to face into the room again.

 

[PmTick]

Johnny returned to the bedroom he awoke in to try and create some kid of a sense of the layout of the place. He noticed a woman was in the bed next to him. Her back was turned, forcing him to look at her luxiourious blond hair cascading down her milky white back and draping over her red nighty. "Mabye this isn't bad after all."

Against his better judgement, Johnny placed his hand on the woman's shoulder, trying to get a look at her face. He moved her hair out of her face and began screaming. Instead of finding an angelic face he saw the face of a decomposing woman. He forgot about making a mental map and ran downstairs, toward the front door only to find a brick wall when he opened the door. He was trapped like one of the rats they test his medicine on and there was no way out.

OOC: Quiet Cool, between this thread, Frankenstein, and DI your the best horror thread writer.

 

[Quiet_Cool]

Jack

The boy sat down on the bed, looking out the window toward the road. He didn't move or say anything, but stared. As I stepped closer, I could see the view outside that window, a short driveway, with a new Pinto sitting out front, shiny yellow paint reflecting the bright morning sun up at the two of us.
"What's the matter?" I asked him. It was odd, considering that the living people downstairs weren't falling within a comfort level, but that I could feel more at peace with these two...whatever they might be...ghosts? I wondered.
He didn't respond. I debated sitting down next to him, but thought twice about it. No sense in being undercautious...
Anything could happen here.
I walked over in front of him, standing between him and the window, knowing this was a bit risky, but wanting his attention.
He seemed to stare through me, not even noticing I was there. I thought of the way he had walked through me when he came through the doorway and wondered if he even had a sense that I was there, if he couldn't see or feel me in any sense, sixth or otherwise.
I was pondering this when the door, which must have closed behind me, suddenly burst open and a man, in his mid-forties, burst in, holding his belt, doubled over, in one hand as though it were a whip. The boy stood up, recoiling immediately. I stepped forward, trying to grab the man's wrists and push him back, acting more on instinct than anything else.
He passed right through me, just as the boy had done, this time, leaving behind him the smell and taste of Jack Daniels, and thoughts too slurred to understand, as well as making me stagger forward, slightly intoxicated for a moment, then sober again. When I turned to face the scene, the man was whipping the boy with the belt, aiming at his head, holding one of the boy's hands to keep him from blocking the swing. The boy screamed as the belt struck him, then dropped to the floor, huddling into a ball, trying to cover his head as the man swung downward repeatedly with the belt. The boy wept, but the man didn't seem to notice or care.
I watched for a second, feeling totally powerless, then turned, about to cry myself, and rushed out of the room. I turned when i reached the door, heading straight down the staircase, passing a place in the centerwhere the wallpaper suddenly changed from a light brown and yellow flower pattern to a dark brown wood panel pattern. When I reached the bottom, I went straight back to the couch, sitting down and covering my head as though the man had been beating me.
I sat still for a few minutes, regaining my composure, then looked up to see the boy standing in front of me.
"Ssshhhh" He rose one finger to his lips. "I wanna show you something...it's in my father's drawer in the study...he thinks I don't know about it so you can't tell anyone."
He started away, heading back toward the hall, which was again where the stairs had been. I just sat there...not moving or blinking. I glanced over at the girl who'd appeared in the bedroom upstairs the night before. The child stopped, then came back, waving his hand wildly for me to follow.
"Not right now," I replied.
He stood, staring at me for a moment, then walked...no, sulked back over to me, his head held low as if ashamed of something. He sat down next to me, his head still held low.
"You saw, didn't you?" He asked. "Dad only does that when he's drunk...he...he doesn't mean anything bad, he just...does it..."
I glanced to the girl again, wondering if it was wise to ask her if she'd heard him, afraid to even look at the man beneath the table after his actions the night before...