The Old Country Home

A Story by Phoenix

Cecelia comes home to find that her life will never be the same, if it ever continues.

It had been a long day, and Cecelia just wanted to get home. That was her only refuge. Her friends were gone, her boyfriend had dumped her, and she had been the laughingstock of Rosewood High ever since she crashed her car into a tree last week. Everything about Cecelia’s life was all wrong. She just needed to get home and bury her nose in a good book.

She unlocked her car and turned the key, preparing herself for the usual long moan from the engine. Cecelia was borrowing her uncle’s old chevy, and it didn’t work as well as her trusty Pathfinder had. After a moan, a weird buzzing feeling, and several cold stares, Cecelia finally got her uncle’s car running.

It took fifteen minutes to get from the little town her high school was in to her giant house out in the country. Today’s drive only felt like two minutes, however, because Cecelia hadn’t been paying attention to anything except her personal problems. When she pared the car, she noticed her parents’ cars were both gone. That’s weird, she thought, They always park their cars right outside the house. She shrugged and thought, maybe they had a change of heart, and went inside.

Cecelia couldn’t lie, her house was ginormous. When you walked in, There was a giant old-fashioned chandelier and a red rug leading to a huge staircase. The stairs led to a hallway on the second floor.

If you went to the right of the staircase, you came across a dining room fit for kings. Beyond that lay the kitchen.

Cecelia dropped her bag off in her room and headed to the kitchen where...wait a minuet...no...this couldn't be happening...

Cecelia's parents lay on the ground by the fridge. Dead.

Cecelia didn't know what to do. She screamed. She kicked the wall. She tried to shake her parents awake, as if this were a cruel joke, before collapsing on the ground, sobbing quietly into her knees.

Just then, Cecelia froze. She had just heard someone walking upstairs. There was no one living in her house except her and her parents, not even a sibling. Cecelia quietly got to her feet and grabbed a rolling pin from one of the drawers and silently exited the kitchen.

The footsteps continued. Cecelia couldn't think of any reason someone would be in her house. Unless..but no...that couldn't be it...

What if the person upstairs had killed her parents? Cecelia froze in fear as this new thought sank in. The more she thought about it, the more sense it made that the person upstairs had killed her parents. Cecelia decided to phone the police.

Right when the phone started ringing, the footsteps stopped. Cecelia shook the phone, praying that the police would hurry up and answer.

The steps were now heading towards the stairs. Cecelia should start running. She kicked the table the phone was resting on in frustration.

The steps were descending the stairs. Cecelia had better go now. But she didn't budge, thinking the police couldn't possibly be allowed to miss a call.

The steps were now heading towards the dining room, where Cecelia was. She started panicking, realized she had not time to call the police or run.

The door knob to the dining room turned, very slowly, as if the person on the other end was waiting to see what Cecelia would do.

The door opened, and a man entered the room with a gun and pointed it at Cecelia. She didn't even get a chance to scream.

The police, realizing something was wrong when the end of the line wasn't responding, went straight to her house to find Cecelia and her parents' bodies, all with bullet wounds in their heads. The shooter was never found.

To this day, they say the old house in haunted by Cecelia's spirit, searching for her and her parents' killer. The man with the gun is also said to be nearby, waiting for his next victim. So if you ever decide to visit the old country home, watch your head.