The House at the End of the Block
A fictional short story for the Halloween season.
The ancient cobblestone house at the end of the block on the corner had sat seemingly vacant for as long as Sam could remember. She had lived just four houses north on the block from the old house, since the age of two with her family.
Her parents had told her on many occasions that the house was owned by a Lord, passed down among generations, but it had been vacant for years.
Her older brother, Sean — whether because he truly believed it or just enjoyed trying to scare Sam — had told her over and over again that not only was it still occupied, but it was haunted.
Of course, these are the type of tales written about in stories, and basic premises of the horror movies that Sam and her friends liked to watch for fun during sleepovers. Now that she was in secondary school, the house was just one you told stories about to other kids in the village.
The place that people whispered about. The place that people stared at, but only from across the street. The place that when you approached it, you crossed the street so you didn’t have to walk in front of it… just in case.
Homes like this were not out of place in England, particularly in Sam’s village outside of Bristol. The streets had been laid over countless times, bricks cracking through the asphalt and concrete layered like frosting over cake. Buildings older than any living soul, and many buildings that were older than generations of souls on this Earth.
Even so, the homes left to disrepair were eyesores upon the otherwise pristine and maintained classical environment that drew random tourists to for a glimpse of old England and the quiet and quaint country life.
In a town of just over 300, it was a happy place for older families whose kids had moved on, and a place you couldn’t wait to escape for kids in their teens.
And yet, in this small village where everyone seemingly knew everyone else’s story, the house on the corner sat still. The shutters that hugged the windows were broken but still attached, missing slats randomly where time had broken them free. The windows were glazed over, hazy from long-accumulated grime. The front door was faded from its once brilliant red. Vines had reclaimed the walls, twisting and grasping it like a creature beckoning a monster back into the ground from whence it came.
The front yard and grounds were caged by a decrepit wooden fence, broken and creaking in the breeze that never ceased. Weeds and overgrown bushes dotted the small yard, tall enough now in the season that they obscured any glimpse of the lower floor.
Sam never paid much attention to the house. When she was younger, it was a place where she and her friends would dare each other to see who would walk closer to it, or as some of the more foolish boys in her class, would dare to knock on the door.
But no one ever answered, and no lights ever shown.
So, it was quite a surprise to Sam when a scream and a flickering of light showed through the side windows on a night blacker than a new moon.
Sam and her friends happened to be across the street on their way to Sam’s house when it all happened. Sam’s closest friend, Charlene, grabbed Sam’s hand, stopping her walk immediately.
Charlene, still holding her hand, dragged Sam across the street in front of the accursed house. Sam and Charlene ducked behind the overgrown shrubs and mangled fence, peering between branches and pickets to see beyond.
Inside the house, the light continued to flicker as the candle on the table within danced in the breeze blowing through the rickety house.
It was difficult to see details, the murky and grimy windows obscured any clear picture for Sam and Charlene, but what they could see was enough to cause intense alarm.
Two shapes moved across the light, backlit and unclear. The larger of the black shapes was huge and rough, hunched forward like a predator enjoying their spoils. The other shape flailed, muffled scream accompanying it.
Charlene opened her mouth to speak, but Sam covered it quickly with her free hand, wrenching her other from Charlene’s grasp and pointing one finger in front of her mouth, beckoning her friend for silence.
Sam looked of their shoulder, their friends had run from the scene, the street was now empty.
Seconds later, the house that never stirred shook, the nearest street-facing wall extruding a cloud of dust as something within slammed into it.
Three more thuds, and another muffled scream within.
Sam and Charlene had sunk lower into their hiding spot. Sam trembled, terrified at the unknown. She motioned to Charlene to hold her hand and run, but Charlene was entranced. Her gaze set upon the house, not moving, scarcely breathing.
Suddenly, the faded red front door burst open, shattered wood from the frame bursting forth at the same time that a young man stumbled from the house.
He recovered quickly, not sparing a glance back to where he had escaped. He got to his feet, sprinting his way through the front yard and through the creaking gate.
Sam recognized him at once.
David was a year younger than Charlene and Sam, but one of the handsome ones in the village.
David was bleeding from a cut above his eyes, blood seeping down his face, covering his chest and shirt.
He sprinted across the street, never once looking back.
Charlene was no longer entranced. She took echoed Sam’s fear. Her hand was clammy, grasping Sam’s tightly, so much that it hurt as her nails dug into the back of Sam’s hand.
Tears were now streaming down Charlene’s face, but she muffled any sound from her mouth.
Sam and Charlene locked eyes, in silent agreement that they should follow David and run.
Charlene raised her hand, silently counting.
1… 2… 3… and they stood to run, except they found they were no longer alone.
Where moments before, David had sprinted from the gate, now stood a beast the size of two men. It wore remnants of men’s clothes, but they were ripped and torn apart.
Drool and blood dripped from its massive, yellowed teeth and jaws. Its hair was wild, brown, and streaked with dried blood, matting it in gnarly chunks on its hide. Its eyes were as narrow, but blacker than the night surrounding them.
It breathed heavily, bursts of visible exhaust snorting from its long snout, while simultaneously snorting in the air, sniffing for where its prey had run.
Sam and Charlene’s sudden appearance caught the create by surprise. And as quickly as it had appeared, it lunged at the two girls, grasping them by their legs.
Sam and Charlene were on their backs, heads slammed against the sidewalk like a rug had been pulled from under them. If they’d been conscious, they would have screamed and thrashed as the beast dragged them back inside the house.
The door slamming shut was enough to stir Sam. Her eyes blinked slowly regaining sight, blurred and achy from the pain in the back of her head. She heard a murmur from Charlene, lying next to her. And then she saw the beast again.
It was picking up the candle which had toppled over during the skirmish before when David had escaped. On the table behind the beast, lay a mangled body, torn apart, blood oozing onto the floor with a sickening drip, drip, drip.
Sam tried to sit up, but her head was so dizzy, she didn’t know up from down.
The beast turned on her, noticing the movement. It snarled, and lurched for her leg again, dragging her closer. Its long, powerful paws reached down, grabbing Sam by her shirt and hoisting her up with no effort.
The hot breath of the beast flooded Sam’s senses. The scent of blood, an iron-like flavor filled her nostrils. She retched uncontrollably. The beast seemed to enjoy this, lapping its disgusting jaws.
As it eyed its prize, it tossed Sam onto another table, the candle falling down and rolling away again. She tried to scream, but no sound made it past the vomit that filled her mouth.
The beast sniffed at her, lapping the sick off her shirt.
The smell of blood and vomit had awoken Sam enough. She began to thrash, desperate to free herself from the beast’s grasps, but it was useless. The beast was as strong as it was hulking. It made a disturbing noise that sounded somewhat like laughter.
But the sound morphed quickly from joy to pain.
The beast released its grasp and swung backward, howling in agony. Flames engulfed the beast as its hide quickly caught fire.
Astounded, Sam struggled to her feet. Behind the beast, stood Charlene. In one hand, the candle from the table, and the other an empty bottle of lantern kerosene. Charlene simply smiled.
The flames spread quickly as the fire leaped from the beast to the spilled fuel on the floor where Charlene had quickly splashed the beast.
Sam knocked the bottle free from Charlene’s hand, grabbing it and dragging her to the splintered door. The beast howled, thrashing and crashing amongst the room’s interior. The flames lapped at the walls, which became engulfed immediately, dried, and rotted from decades of neglect.
Outside the door, now stood David. He had returned, ax in his hand, along with dozens of others from the village. They remarked at the sight of Sam and Charlene clambering from the now rapidly growing fire.
Behind the girls, the beast turned in a final moment of desperation for the open door. It fell with a sickening crunch into the door frame and howled again.
Its final act, to fall lifeless to the ground in front of the villagers, who stood ready to attack.
For reasons unknown to her, Sam had run directly into David’s arms along with Charlene. David hugged them both, while villagers pulled the three of them further back to safety.
The flames now touched the night sky, higher than any other building nearby, engulfing the structure. At the foot of the door, now charred and hairless, lay the body of the beast. Its clawed hands stretched long and grasping for escape, but it failed.
Villagers pushed back, allowing the structure to collapse under the damage of the flames, which seemed to have taken upon otherworldly anger like they themselves were possessed.
The three young survivors remained huddled together, joined by their tragedy and triumph. Millions of questions sprang out from voices nearby, but tonight was not the night for answers. It was the time for relief.
The End.
