The chime of the old grandfather clock echoed through the dark and empty hallways of a building that was slowly fading with time. The shelves were caked with layers of dust and a littering of rat droppings was scattered across every floor. The stairs leading up were old and treacherous, groaning and creaking with each step where and daring the brave to climb them to the dark above. Each window was covered by wooden planks that let only the barest flicker of sunlight peak through. This house sat alone on its little hill overlooking the neighborhood that continued living in its shadow, though each resident of the streets below pretended it wasn't there.
The old house was the property of a similarly old woman who now lived in a home with the rest of her dying kind. Her eyes were red and rheumy eyes, skin stretched like thin leather over such frail bones and only a spattering of hair left on her little head. She could scarcely lift a finger or utter a word, yet still her daughter in law visited once a week with the same request.
"Turn the house over to me, Margaret. It's horrid and no good for anyone, Jonathan and I can do something better with the property."
A small red light flashed under the old woman's finger and a moment later, there was a knock at the door. The man who stepped in was no fair sight to look upon. The skin on the left side of his face was marred by a furious looking scar and his left eye appeared to be melted shut. His right eye was cool and steely, his lips thin and pursed and only just able to part when he spoke.
"Is everything alright in here?" his voice sounded like gravel crunching beneath a tire. It was hoarse and rough. His body was longer than it should have been, his fingers stretching out like spider legs when they flattened against the door and forced it shut behind him. His shadow was a wispy thing that seemed unable to hold its shape as he passed through the room.
Julianne hated the man who had been assigned to care for Margaret in her last days. Every interaction she had with him was unsettling, and when she smiled and stood she felt a tight knot of fear coil in her stomach when he looked her in the eye.
"Everything's fine," she lied. "I should be going," Julianne turned and placed a hand on Margaret's shoulder. "I'll see you next week."
The old woman only looked up at her caretaker with those rheumy eyes of hers and her small mouth struggling to maintain the small smile that first appeared there when he entered the room.
The man opened the door for Julianne as she walked by.
?Good afternoon, Mrs. Garrett."
Outside of the home the sky had turned gray and clouds rolled overhead, threatening another storm. Birds squawked and screeched as they huddled into the trees that lined the street and a woman and her young son ran quickly toward the home's doors as the first bolt of lightning flashed in the sky. Julianne got in her car just as the first drop fell.
The old house was the property of a similarly old woman who now lived in a home with the rest of her dying kind. Her eyes were red and rheumy eyes, skin stretched like thin leather over such frail bones and only a spattering of hair left on her little head. She could scarcely lift a finger or utter a word, yet still her daughter in law visited once a week with the same request.
"Turn the house over to me, Margaret. It's horrid and no good for anyone, Jonathan and I can do something better with the property."
A small red light flashed under the old woman's finger and a moment later, there was a knock at the door. The man who stepped in was no fair sight to look upon. The skin on the left side of his face was marred by a furious looking scar and his left eye appeared to be melted shut. His right eye was cool and steely, his lips thin and pursed and only just able to part when he spoke.
"Is everything alright in here?" his voice sounded like gravel crunching beneath a tire. It was hoarse and rough. His body was longer than it should have been, his fingers stretching out like spider legs when they flattened against the door and forced it shut behind him. His shadow was a wispy thing that seemed unable to hold its shape as he passed through the room.
Julianne hated the man who had been assigned to care for Margaret in her last days. Every interaction she had with him was unsettling, and when she smiled and stood she felt a tight knot of fear coil in her stomach when he looked her in the eye.
"Everything's fine," she lied. "I should be going," Julianne turned and placed a hand on Margaret's shoulder. "I'll see you next week."
The old woman only looked up at her caretaker with those rheumy eyes of hers and her small mouth struggling to maintain the small smile that first appeared there when he entered the room.
The man opened the door for Julianne as she walked by.
?Good afternoon, Mrs. Garrett."
Outside of the home the sky had turned gray and clouds rolled overhead, threatening another storm. Birds squawked and screeched as they huddled into the trees that lined the street and a woman and her young son ran quickly toward the home's doors as the first bolt of lightning flashed in the sky. Julianne got in her car just as the first drop fell.