The Nightmare (Home Pt2)

    Abby thought back to the day they first found the house. It was on the back page of the real estate listing, really only a small one or two line advertisement but it caught her eye nonetheless, perhaps it was the “just reduced” tag that screamed out with bold red letters. She and David, her husband made arrangements to see the property with Micheal Tomas, who claimed to be the listing agent. He said the sisters who had owned the property, inherited it from their elderly uncle who had passed away unexpectedly, some eight years before. The house had been empty since, and they could not burden the cost of keeping it any longer. They were interested in a short sale, and would take any reasonable offer.

    She remembers clearly, the day they rolled up the long dirt driveway to the house. It had been empty for sometime and it showed. The porch wrapped one side of the main house, reaching around the back to face the lake. The windows along the second floor where dressed with old worn shades, a few of them missing panes, a few wrapped in the Daily News, and shutters hanging off their mounts. The front lawn overgrown with tall weeds, was dotted with fruit trees. The apple trees, once bountiful with large prized offerings had giving way to rotten worm infested, and cankerous fruit, no longer the pride of the orchard that stretched down over the hill, and clung to the back road.

    The house, with its old Victorian charm, and long stretched views of the lake, seemed perfect even with all the work required to make it a home once more. It was a good buy, to good to pass up. They had grown tired of living in the city, with all its noise, and the dangerous streets. The house offered a quick release from the cities filthy existence.

    The house felt like home to Abby, who wanted a quiet get away, a safe place to raise Molly, the couple’s four year old daughter, and David was intent on making her happy. Both of them entertained ideas of returning this old house, so full of charm and character to its grandeur.

     The first two months of life at the house started on a wonderful note, paint went up with ease, shutters realigned, windows washed, panes repaired and the grounds pruned pristine, but as the months began to pass, it became apparent something dark had crept into the corners.

    On day in early September, while Abby and Molly picked daisies that grew wild in the far corner of the back field, along the old stone wall, near where the road divided their property into two parcels, they stumble upon a graveyard. The small graveyard, dotted with no more than ten to twelve stones, having long been neglected was overgrown with thickets and the thorns of a blood red rose bush. The markers grew heavy with a thick green moss blanketing the slate, and granite stones. Each stone sweating profusely in the heat of the day.

    Almost immediately, Abby noticed a troubled feeling that hung over the place. Something dark, surly and haunting. Her mind swam in disillusions, anxious with the feeling that surround the cemetery, the fear of the unknown or unexplained had crept up along the back of her neck, and wrapped it's hands around her throat.

    She felt her chest tighten heavy with weightless pressure, stealing her breath, as if it was being drawn from her tense body. Choked in that invidious feeling that surrounded her. Her mouth dry with nervousness, grappled with each swallow, trying to hold back her escaping breath. Frozen in fear, she fought off the stare of tenebrous eyes that watched her every move. She pulled at her daughter’s hand, who stood looking into the graveyard with much interest. Molly turned to her mother, and asked “Why is the little girl’s eyes all black and so sad?” Abby’s mouth so dry, she couldn’t squeak out a sound. Terrified, she pulled at Molly, her feet as heavy as stone, as she hurried along the road, and up the path that sat just below the house. Her eyes looking back every few steps hoping that Molly’s over active imagination was only playing to the fear that she felt standing on the road looking into the graveyard. Somehow she knew there was more to it than that, she felt the cold stare of death bearing down on her, scratching her back, clawing as she scurried towards the steps of the old porch.

Reviews

[emmajoy]

Superb descriptions of happy then sliding down mood to downright fright scenes here. You thread words into wonderful sentences: ' The markers grew heavy with a thick green moss blanketing the slate, and granite stones. Each stone sweating profusely in the heat of the day.' - and - '.. Her mind swam in disillusions,.. ' This is scary but fascinating .. a mystery indeed. Grand writing. On to the next part now!

Negative: there are a few typos but can be easily sorted.

[Neva Flores Smith - Cha..]

Scary, Scary, this reminds me of how the last place I lived in made me feel. You guys wondered where I disappeared to. I was living in this hell for awhile. It was terrible.

[Larry Dyson]

here's your Muse ..inkie...finish the next chapter please... confront the child in the graveyard...

[Teri B]

Oooooh! Spoooooooky!

[KATHY SUE SILLS]

OMG! Loved it! This was chilling, suspensful and very haunting. I can't wait to read more! I'm excited because this is my kind of read! Excellent

[KAREN]

Awesome! I am hooked. The imagery was so real, I felt like I was there watching. Really dark and haunting, great story for this time of year.