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"Who told you it was haunted? Write about the first memory that comes to mind when you heard the words 'haunted house.'"
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I actually wrote a short story about this house, you know, I called it 'The Pleasant Place-- The Red Water', you can find it on my Writerscafe.org account. I'm Izumiko. =3
I had a friend (Not so much a friend as someone I was forced to hang out with every weekend) who would do anything to scare you or herself, whichever came easier. She lived on a dirtroad, the middle of the woods, and the first thing you would see coming off the dirt road was a house. It wasn't very big, in fact, it was pretty small. Smaller than the houses they're building now, in the subdivisions.
It had always had a fence around it, chain link, very standard. We kept an eye on it for the next four years.
Only one person ever lived there, and it was immediatly closed down. It was a young woman and her dog. I can't remember the woman's name, but I'm pretty sure the dog's name was Pepper. They were super nice, but they only lived there for something like a week.
One day, they were gone-- no movers' trucks or anything. The house changed in various ways over the next four years. Boards came up, spray paint appeared on the boarded windows and doors. But, it was never mowed down, nothing was ever built there. One day, we went around to the back of the house, we were even considering jumping the fence. Though, on the other side of the house there was a patio, a pool, and a glass door. I'm not sure what it was that we saw through the glass door, but I do remember running like hell.
There was furniture all still on the inside of the house, and a pair of pool chairs on the patio. I do remember that.
I also remember that, one day, there appeared one of those decorative thermometers in a dead flowerbed outside of the house. Various other little things, but, damn, that house was scary. I remember on one of those hot, boring, sunny days we were sitting outside of it. Because the sidewalk dipped there was some kind of cement thing that separated the fence from the sidewalk, it rose and fell with the sidewalk-- maybe as some kind of bar, or something? I have no idea.
I hanging onto the chainlink fence and walking across the cement-thing, and suddenly my finger hurt. I looked at it, and it was practically dripping little beads of blood. Nothing too serious, just a p***k, or something.
I remember I drew my name on the cement-thing with the blood. I have no idea why, but it must not have hurt so badly. We walked away, not even for five minutes-- just down the sidewalk to retrieve our bikes. We came back the blood was not dried, but it was gone. The cement was just as white as it had been.
No one else on the streets or sidewalk.
Very weird.
Sound unrealistic? Of course! But, then again, this was, at least, seven years ago. And that's how I remember it.
 X x __ compos M E N T i S · Sat Apr 18, 2009 @ 08:05pm · 0 Comments |
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