The Girl and The House by Gregory Harvey

(1 rating) Rate this Story (5 best) 1 2 3 4 5

It fell to the ground, the beam of light rolling to expose on of the other corners. Isabelle dropped her head into her hands but the presence of blood there made her quickly sit back up. As she was crouched in the corner, with her knees against her chest, tears began to leak into the blood on Isabelle's face.
As Isabelle lifted her head a thin shadow darted through the torch light. Her tears and sobbing ended abruptly, replaced with the deceitful silence of the room. As her heart rose in panic, Isabelle's hand reached clumsily for the torch. The light faltered as she grabbed onto it, but returned in an instance.
Isabelle wheeled the torch around the room, dousing it in wild streaks of light. When she couldn't see anything, Isabelle moved it more carefully across the room, from left to right. And then, in the same corner she had originally seen it shoot across, the shadow was standing still and staring. It was the figure of a human, stretched over the wall and roof so that Isabelle could not judge its size. The light was casting a shadow without anything to block its path.
The shadow remained motionless. The torch in Isabelle's hand began to heat up, as if its batteries were on the verge of exploding. It grew so hot so fast that Isabelle dropped it out of reflex. The torch hit the ground and a crisp sound signaled the bulb had shattered.
The air began to rush around her, and beneath it Isabelle could hear footsteps moving behind her. Without a moment's hesitation she ran towards the door, which was concealed by darkness. As she grasped at the handle a low rumble at first, but then a definite growl, began to emanate from behind her. Isabelle twisted the handle furiously, but it wouldn't turn even an inch. She could feel the monster approaching from behind her. Her fists bashed hopelessly against the wooden door.
Isabelle spun around, and the growling and the rushing wind stopped. The room was silent again. And dark. She wanted desperately to run through to the kitchen, to exit through the back door she had seen there earlier, but the darkness was so complete that Isabelle dared not step forward for fear she would lose her balance and tumble into the void below her feet. And there also was that shadow... and the growling. Isabelle could tell there was still something in the room with her.
She stepped forward, her heart thumping as the floorboards beneath her wheezed between cracked breaths. The kitchen doorway was only a faint outline in the solid darkness. A breeze, accompanied by some muffled, almost inaudible noise, gusted at Isabelle from the bowels of the room. Panicked, she moved into the kitchen with renewed speed, almost falling over her feet for one terrifying second.
An orange light was hanging from the walls in the kitchen. Isabelle gasped as her eyes located it's source. The empty soup bowl, which she had thrown recklessly into the center of the table, now held a dull flame within its grasp. The fire stretched upwards above the table in a thin stream, its tendrils lapping at the roof.