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The House off Wasa Street pt. 1



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Sun Jan 08, 2012 3:17 pm
BigBadBear says...



This is a short horror story that I've been writing for the past few days. I predict that there will be around 5-6 parts in total. I'd love any help and feedback. Also, sorry for the lame cut off point, but there was NO good place to stop.


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The House off Wasa Street


It was the kind of a morning where nothing sounded better than a nice cup of hot cocoa. Emily, still in her nightgown, made her way through the kitchen to set some water out to boil. As she gathered the mugs, one for her and one for her husband who was still asleep (the sleepy-head!), she breathed in the landscape of her backyard through the kitchen window. When she and Paul had gotten married forty-three years ago, they had bought a small ranch-styled home on the outskirts of town. From the window, she could see the stables where their two horses and three pigs resided. To the left of that was their modest sized garden, which bore the plumpest pumpkins in October than any vegetable patch this side of the Mississippi. Just beyond the vegetable patch and stables were three rather large holes, two of which were filled with dirt. The grass had not yet overtaken the freshly-dug earth. She made a mental note to have Paul get sod for those patches if the wild grass refused to grow in the next few days.

She stepped away from the window and drew the curtains shut. She did the same to the curtains just above the couch on the other side of the room. The sunlight was dimmed considerably, and she adjusted the shades. Next, she slowly walked over to the door that led to the garage, which was next to the stove. The water was not yet boiling so she figured she had a few moments to spare. She opened the door and a wave of panic burst through her.

The garage was wide open.

How long, she thought. How long has the door been open? All night? How could that be possible? I made sure to check it last night! Unless Paul had gotten up in the middle of the night… and in that case, why in tarnations didn’t he close it?

She quickly pressed the button on the wall, and the garage door moaned shut. She blinked some of the remaining sleep out of her eyes to get a better look at the place. Her nostrils stung a little at the smell, but everything looked fine. Nothing out of place. But just to be sure, she lowered herself down the steps and into the garage.

The tarps were still secured in place. The four different buckets full of the pig’s chow was in its place. She did, however, notice one of the buckets was leaking. She wiped her finger across the plastic container and cleared away the red smear. Can never be too careful, she thought.

The stench was beginning to be too much for her. She grimaced as she exited through the door she had just come through. The water was finally boiling on the stove, so she grabbed the hot cocoa mix and poured the water into both of the mugs.

“Good morning, my beautiful little lady.”

Emily smiled and turned around. Paul was walking toward the kitchen, scratching his head and smoothing what hair he had left.

“Good morning. You slept late.”

“Yes, I did. Oh, what’ve you got there? Mm, hot cocoa?”

“Only the best for you,” she said as she handed him his mug with a spoon. “Be sure to stir it around a bit more.” He gave an appreciative grunt and sat down at the kitchen table.

“Is the paper here yet?” Paul said, stirring his hot cocoa.

“I haven’t had the chance to look. I’d assume so. Anyway, Paul, I woke up this morning and found the garage open. Now, I know for a fact that it was closed when I went to bed last night. Did you open it?”

Paul froze, about to take a sip.

“It was open?”

“Wide open. Paul, you need to remember to shut it. We can’t have that kind of attention right now. You know that.”

“I—I thought I closed it last night.”

“So you did open it?”

“Well, only for a moment. I cleaned out one of the pig’s chow containers and filled it. I needed the hose. But I could’ve sworn I closed it…”

“Next time, Paul, be more careful. Who knows? If you ever leave it open again, there may not even be a next time.”

“I’m sorry, honey.”

“It’s quite alright,” Emily stated as she sat down to join him. She had opened the blinds once more to a bit of sunlight stream through. “You have a big day today.”

“Don’t I know it,” he sighed. “I’m hopin’ my back can handle it. It’s not easy you know, digging a six foot hole in the ground. What’re your plans for today?”

“I was planning on heading into town to pick up some groceries. After that, however, I really need to get this house cleaned up. There were blood spots on the walls and some of it in the carpets. Really, Paul. You’ve got to learn to clean up after yourself. Do you know how hard blood is to get out of our carpet? And it’s in the drapes—”

“Nag, nag, nag,” Paul joked, getting up to make some toast.

“I’m being serious, dear.”

“And who was it that decided to leave him hanging in the drapes?” Paul challenged. “Don’t blame me for the bloodstains there.”

Emily smiled to herself. “I liked the look. Besides, it was only for a night. I’ll take care of it today.”

“If you say so, sugar.” He popped the bread into the toaster. Leaning against the counter, he looked at Emily for a good moment or two. He smiled. “You’re getting old, woman.”

“If I’m only just getting old, then you must be ancient by now,” Emily said.

“I love you.”

“I know.”

Paul fixed his toast and grabbed the margarine from the refrigerator. And then there were three distinct knocks on the front door of the house.

Emily’s heart leaped out of her throat. She clutched her chest and her eyes shot like daggers to Paul’s. He put his finger up to his lips and froze. Silence. And then—

Four more knocks.

Paul shook his head, silently telling Emily not to move. He began to head towards the front door, which was around the corner from the kitchen. On the way, he locked the door to the garage. His steps were light.

Emily twisted her fingers in her hands. She eyed the drapes in the corner of the room. The stains were not totally visible at the right angles. She wondered if anything could be seen from the living room with the front door. She fought the urge to get up and arrange the furniture or something, but Paul wouldn’t allow it.

Paul, in the other room, lifted a corner of the curtains and, heart thumping, peaked outside.

“Emily!” he whispered. “Emily, it’s Donny!”

Suddenly, the phone rang and Emily let out a short, high-pitched scream. She regained herself and took a deep breath. She got up and looked at the ID. It was also Donny.

“He’s trying to call! Should I answer it?” Emily asked, her voice small and weak.

“No… just relax,” came his voice from the other room. She heard the sound of the lock sliding and the door creaking open.

“Well, if it isn’t Donny! How’re you doin’, son?”

“Hey, Dad!”

Emily figured it would be best to act as natural as she possibly could and present herself to her oldest son. She double checked the lock on the door to the garage and made her way through the kitchen and into the living room.

Donny was standing in the doorway. He was a tall man, about six foot three. His jet black hair was smoothed back, every hair perfectly in place. He wore a blue button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Why, Donny! It’s so good to see you!”

“Mom! You look beautiful!” Donny said with a smile. He took Emily in his arms and gave her a hug.

“Oh, dear. I just woke up. I probably look like Frankenstein’s monster…” Emily said, arranging her hair as best as she could.

“You look fine. I hope I didn’t catch you guys at a bad time. I was on my way to pick up some packages for work and felt like dropping by.”

“A bad time?” Emily said and looked at Paul. He shook his head. “Of course not! You’re welcome here at any time. How’ve you been?”

“Great,” Donny replied, stepping into the house. An icy burst of fear coursed through her veins as he looked in the direction of the curtain. She never took her eyes off of Donny’s eyes as she gestured him into the living room, one of the only rooms in the house that was clean at the moment.

“Please, have a seat. Make yourself at home,” Emily said. “Would you like some hot cocoa? I just made some. It’s on the stove.”

“Hot cocoa? Mom, it’s like ninety degrees outside.”

“No day is too hot for hot cocoa.”

“Well, I’m gonna have to pass. But thank you.”

“How about a glass of water, then?”

“Sure. Thanks, Mom.”

Emily smiled and nodded. She turned back into the kitchen and heard Paul say, “So, how’s Lucy and the kids?”

Shit shit shit shit, Emily thought. Why didn’t I clean the house yesterday? I had all day. Why didn’t I do it? If he comes in here, he could very well find him. And what if he happens to want to take a suddenly inspired tour of the garage? Oh Lord, help me. Help me now in my hour of great need.

She filled a glass with ice and tap water and set it on the counter. Maybe she could take him out of the drapes right now and stow him in the garage, under the tarp with the rest of them? That would be the best option. Then she could take the drapes down and store them in another room, under a bed or in a box. But she would need wire cutters to cut him out of the drapes. And there would be the matter of the noise. It seemed extremely implausible to do it. Unless she could get him into another room. But that would risk the chance of him seeing other things. Could Paul pull it off?

“Emily, dear, come sit down!” Paul called from the other room. Emily bit her lip and carried the glass of water through the kitchen and front room to the living room. She smiled and handed the water to her son and took a seat next to Paul on the opposite couch.

“Jonathan has a baseball game today at six. His team’s doing really well this season. Lucy and I are hoping a scout will see him at one of these final games. It be great if he could get a scholarship like that. Money’s too tight right now. We’re all pinching our purses, and adding college tuition on top of that…” Donny sighed. “I just don’t know.”

“We started early,” Paul said. “The day you were born, we opened a savings account for all you kids. Put ten dollars a week into the accounts. Sometimes less, sometimes more. But that’s what put you kids through college.”

“Well, that and my full ride to MSU,” Donny laughed and sipped his drink. He grimaced. “What’s that smell?”

“Smell? What smell?” Emily said, much too quickly. “I don’t smell anything. Do you, Paul?”

He eyed Emily. “Not anything unusual.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just me. I thought I smelled something kind of funny. Hey, can I use the bathroom real quick?”

“The bathroom?” Paul coughed into his hand. “Did you clean up the bathroom, Emily? New hand towels and such?”

“Yes. The bathroom should be okay,” she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. It was true. The bathroom was certainly used yesterday, but she had managed to clean up the spills and stains. Any signs of activity had been erased.

Donny placed his ice water on the coffee table and got up to use the bathroom. Emily twisted her fingers as he walked past the entrance to the living room and kitchen. He glanced in and noticed nothing. He opened the door to the bathroom and walked in.

Paul and Eimly quickly stood up and walked as quickly as they could to the kitchen.

“The wire cutters! Quick!” Emily whispered as the grabbed the drapes. There was a cloth ribbon tired around the bulk of the curtains. She untied them as fast as she could and held the body against the wall.

Oh, please, Lord. Don’t let any blood get on me.

Meanwhile, Paul had unlocked the garage and ran out in search of his wire cutters. He returned in a matter of seconds and ran to Emily’s side. The body was held up by a bizarre mess of wires which pierced his skin and created many open wounds. His abdominal section was an inflamed and bloody mess. Emily had done her best the previous night to soak up what blood she could, but she obviously hadn’t done the best job. Paul took the wire cutters and made three different cuts. With each one, the body slipped lower and lower to the ground. Emily pushed it up against the wall to hold it steady.

“There!” Paul said as he clipped the last wire. He dropped the clippers and grabbed the body by the head. Emily grabbed his feet. As they awkwardly carried him across the kitchen, she looked at the dead man’s face. He was a handsome young man, about twenty or so. He had been rather weak, though. She wished he would have put up more of a fight. It had been so easy. Oh well.

She heard the toilet flush just as Paul opened the garage door. They bolted down the stairs as fast as they could and Paul whispered, “Go back inside. Wash your hands. I’ll clean this up.”

Emily nodded. “Hurry.”

Once back inside, Emily checked her clothing for blood drips, but she surprisingly had come away clean. She washed her hands furiously at the sink and when she turned around, she screamed.

Donny was standing just behind her. The drapes were standing wide open, the blood stains clearly showing. If he were to turn around, he would see them.

“Oh, Lord. You scared me!”

Donny gave a great laugh. “Sorry. What’re you up to?”

“Just, uh…” Her eyes had trouble focusing on Donny instead of the marks. Where is Paul? Donny’s going to see. Donny’s going to turn around at any moment and see. And then what? How could I possibly explain something like this?

“So, dear. Please, sit down,” she said, motioning to the table just in front of Donny. He gladly accepted the chair and folded his hands on the table. She stood, grasping the chair opposite him so hard her knuckles turned white.

“Where’s Dad?” he asked.

“He’s, uh. He’s in the garage. He’ll be back in here in a minute. So, Donny. Let’s talk about you. We haven’t talked for over three weeks! Why have you left your poor dear mother so alone? I wake up every morning next that man and that’s about all the entertainment I get all day.” Emily tried to joke, but it was coming up short. Sweat beaded her forehead.
Just write -- the rest of life will follow.

Would love help on this.
  





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Gender: Female
Points: 557
Reviews: 67
Tue Jan 10, 2012 1:42 am
mistielovesyou says...



Wow. Good. This is great!

Sorry, I don't have any critique for this, it's fantastic. I love the subtle creepiness of the old man and woman murderers. You didn't over-exaggerate anything, but still ended up with a decent scary story. Marvelous! I'd love to read the rest. I'm waiting...
mistura is awesome and she loves you
  








I'm also not sure why but even though I normally wear cool tones I have a feeling red would have been my color in the 1860s.
— Elinor