The Abandoned House

What was it? There! The door handle was turning. The door was opening. Someone, or something was inside, and I was about to find out what. I could hear my heart… Thud… Thud… Slowly speeding up… Thud, thud, thud, now racing thud thud thud thud…

Bang! The door had swung open and hit the wall, and out stepped… Mark. He grinned.

"You look a bit scared, Peter. Want me to hold your hand?" He laughed. I realised that I had a look of utmost horror on my face, and quickly turned it to a fake grin.

"Yeah, good one." I mumbled.

I looked at his face in the gloom. I saw his dark hair, his perfect features and his cruel smirk looking back at me. But then his eyes moved to my shoulder, and over it. His smirk twisted into a terrible frown, a fearful glint came into his eyes, and he pointed over my shoulder and screamed

"Oh god!"

I spun round in terror, ready for anything. Anything but this.

"Bahaha! Hahaha! Got you again, you gullible bag of nerves!" Mark was practically rolling around with laughter. I felt my face going red, and the anger welled up inside me. I had expected to be the brunt of all of his jokes when I made friends with him, but not to this extent. He may have been the most liked kid in school, but this was unfair.

"Shut up, it’s not like you never make mistakes." I said in a huff. He controlled his laughter enough to stand up.

"Two-nil! Two-nil!" He sang. I swung for him, and missed. "Catch me if you can!" He shouted as he ran off, laughing.

It seems stupid now. I could have just walked out, gone home, and eaten lots of chocolate. But my anger was so immense that I charged after him. Oh well, at least I didn’t get wet.

I ran into a large bare room. I just saw Mark’s athletic body run through one of the doors. Running out of the same door, I saw a flight of stairs ahead of me, and could just see his figure flash round a corner at the top. I ran up them into an entirely new corridor. Opening another door and into another room with peeling blue wallpaper and a broken chair in the corner. Through more doors, and up another staircase, and I realised that I was totally lost. I swore.

As I stood there, scared stiff, I could hear the trees creaking outside, the rustle of leaves, but worst of all, the quiet. Beneath all the noise, there was a terrible, gripping silence, worse than ever before. It overpowered every sound, every slight noise sounded alien and distant, too far from reality to even exist.

I tried making a sound. I had meant to say "Hello." But it came out as "Herr?" I didn’t try any more after that.

Slam! I spun round. Maybe it was the murderer, come to reap again. Or maybe the spirits of the dead people, come to reap revenge on anyone who would disturb their bloody grave. No, I told myself. It had just been the door, caught by a draught of wind. And anyway, the murderer had been locked up for years, and ghosts didn’t exist. I was being paranoid.

But then again, he could hear a drip, drip, drip noise. Ever so faintly, but still there. It was coming from a cupboard door. Hacked off body parts dripping blood definitely did exist, I reminded myself. Ripped off another victim that the police had failed to find. I stepped up to it, very slowly. I reached for the handle.