The House Nobody Built

Last week, Chuck got us to put up 5-word titles... just one each. This week, he picked out 10 and we got to pick out which one we liked.

enjoy.

My back is hurting me as I sit in this old kitchen chair.

Both my arms and ankles are tied down hard.

I’m gagged.

Heavy footsteps sound around hallway behind me; but I don’t turn.

I learned last time not to.

My wound has clotted but it still hurts if I look at it – so I try not to.

At least I still have nine fingers left. I don’t know what they did with my other one.

But let me tell you how this started out:

Halloween... my friends and I were out and about roaming the streets having fun and enjoying ourselves. We came upon this house. It’s been on my street for as long as I can remember; and yet it always looked as though it’s never been lived in.

The gardens are always well-kept.

The lights come on at night.

But I’ve never seen the gates open for any cars to enter or leave.

So, this year, my friends thought it would be a good time to dare me to have a closer look. Being a local to the area, I said no. They called me a coward, and I stuck by my guns and still said no.

So, Tricia volunteered to go in.

That was at sunset.

By the time the street lights came on, she hadn’t come back. We tried her phone and it went to voice mail.

Melony went in next. 

She squeezed through the bars of the gates and ran up to the nearest tree, where we watched as a dog came out of nowhere the tore her to shreds.

I threw up my dinner in the gutter as we both heard her final screams cut the air and Felicity sat huddled by my side crying.

“Well, what about you?” she hiccupped.

Wiping my mouth, I turned to her, “Are you nuts? Tricia hasn’t been seen anywhere, Melony’s dog meat. And now, you want me to go in?” my guts squeezed involuntarily again, but this time I stopped from being sick again, coughing slightly, “No way am I going into that creepy fucked-up house. And have you noticed that name of that place?”

She turned and looked at it: “Oh... Nemo. Like the movie about the fish.”

“Don’t be stupid.” I said, “In Latin it means nobody... that’s nobody’s house. So...”

“Oh man, that’s creepy.” Felicity shuddered as she began to rock, “But I don’t want to go inside there.”

At that moment, we heard Tricia at the gate, “Guys. Where’s Melony?”

I stood shakily, took Felicity by the hand and we walked over to the gate, “Um... didn’t you hear the screaming?”

“Yeah... oh... oooh!” Her eyes widened, “Shit!”

“Come on, it’s time to leave.” I wiped my mouth again. The slimy feel of vomit wouldn’t leave my lips, and I felt light-headed; and I was sure Felicity wasn’t going to last much longer standing up, “Let’s go.”

Tricia smiled, “I’m gonna stick around. This place is interesting. I’ve only been here a few minutes.”

“Tricia, you’ve been here for five hours.” I tapped my watch.

My friend smiled at me through the huge iron gates and I knew something just wasn’t right. This wasn’t the same person who left us at sundown. She had what I called The Cheshire Cat Smile. It was that kinda smile which carried no feeling, no soul, no message of friendliness – it just told you that what was about to happen was going be so fuck-up ugly that you’re were going to have huge problems explaining it to the cops.

This was the smile Tricia had on her face: The Cheshire Cat Smile.

Felicity knew I called it that, but... “Oh shit, The Cheshire Cat Smile.”

“Where’s a cat?” Felicity asked.

I looked over at her and she really didn’t look that well at all. What happened next occurred so fast, I almost couldn’t believe it. Tricia reached through the bars, grabbing my friend by my side by the neck. She slammed her against the gate a number of times until she was nothing but a bag of bones on the footpath.

“Oh fuck! Felicity!” I didn’t know what to do. I almost reached out to touch her, but stopped. Her eyes were wide open. Her neck was snapped back – doubled over her shoulders – and I fought to not be sick again. Every bone in her body had been snapped into a dozen pieces... and the sickening part of it was that I had heard them all go like twigs. When I remembered to breathe again, I looked up at the gate to find Tricia standing over me.

I remember thinking: ‘How did she get through the bars without me hearing her?’ before darkness quickly descended upon me.

This brings me to now.

My back hurting me as I sit in this old kitchen chair with both my arms and ankles are tied down hard.

I’m gagged.

Heavy footsteps sound around hallway behind me; but I don’t turn.

I know the person walking around isn’t Tricia, because she was killed in front of me as they tied me to the chair.

I’ve spotted all our phones on the kitchen table – along with a plastic container filled with other mobile phones and devices in it.

I’m just another intruder to this place...

To the house no one built.