Good morning, House of Madness risk takers:
Evil lurks throughout the land, and often is best left alone, lest you have a death wish. I wrote this one yesterday based on an idea I've had for a little bit, can't quite say how long. As always, I hope you enjoy- I really had fun writing this one.
It had been three whole weeks since Brad took the dare, but every time he tried to work up the courage, he couldn't quite muster the will and overcome his fear. Brad would never tell the others this, as he took the dare with full confidence, bravery oozing from every single orifice of his body and soul. But the time had come for Brad to step up to the plate, as he could no longer dodge the inevitable with excuses, and tonight this was really going to happen - he was going to spend the night in the old Critch house up on the hill overlooking the cemetery.
It all started out as a joke at first, Brad and his friends Jeff and Marcus telling old ghost stories in Marcus's basement, while sipping on ginger beer and snacking on his mom's homemade butterscotch cookies. "Hahahaha! Now that was a great story Jeff!" Marcus shouted as he clapped Jeff on the back. "Your turn, Brad!" Marcus overexcitedly exclaimed as he reached for another cookie. " Umm, isn't that like seven cookies for you now?" Brad asked Marcus with a sly grin on his face. "My mom made 'em, so I can have as many as I want!" Marcus chuckled as he ate the entire cookie in one bite, "Besides, you're just stalling because you don't have a story!" Marcus said as he poked Brad in the ribs. "You're right, I don't have any more good stories, and that last one from Jeff you liked so much, I've heard three times already!" Brad said. "Well if you have a better one, let's hear it, Mr. Hotshot!" Jeff said with an irrated glint in his eye. "Hmmm, tell ya what fellas, I gotta get home before my mom flips out, but I'll bet you each $100 that I can stay a whole night in that old Critch place, and have the scariest story ever to tell when I get back." "Shit! He ain't never gonna be able to stay the whole night! No fuckin way!" Marcus giggled. "Make it $150 and I'm in; my brother owes me some cash I lent him a few weeks back." Jeff said confidently. "I don't have a hundred and fifty bucks!" Marcus cried, but Brad waved him away with ease as he said "Don't worry Marcus, you can pay me back with pictures of your sister from last year's summer vacation.". "Deal!" Marcus quickly replied, along with "As long as I don't gotta see your face when you open 'em!" And with that, the bet was on.
"Bye mom, I'm leaving now!" Brad yelled, as he opened the front door. "Don't forget to take your meds!" his mom yelled, as she always did when he was going for a sleepover; although she might have had some other words to say had she known where he was actually going to be sleeping. "I won't!" Brad yelled back as he closed the door and looked up the hill. He couldn't see the Critch house from where he was, but it was there, and it already felt like it was peering into his soul. Brad took his time getting there, as all he had to do was text Jeff and Marcus when he arrived, send them a screenshot of him at the front door, and then follow up with the same thing in the morning. Technically, Brad could just take the pic, go home, come back in the morning, and the bet would be won, but Brad wasn't a pussy, besides, what if Jeff or Marcus showed up in the middle of the night and he wasn't there? Brad didn't have $150 to lose, so this was happening whether he liked it or not.
Brad approached the front gate which had a faded 'No Trespassing' sign nailed to a wood post, but other than the sign, there were no other obvious obstacles preventing him from entering the yard. As he approached the front door with extreme apprehension, he half expected to hear someone ask him just what the hell he was doing, and he'd have to run in the pitch black of the night. But no voice came. This was really happening, and Brad's balls felt like they were about to escape through his nostrils as he turned the doorknob. Unlocked. Brad couldn't believe it, but there was no turning back now, and besides, it was kind of chilly outside. "Hello?" Brad said with a squeaky voice into the darkness. "Anyone there?" Silence. A sense of relief came over Brad as he closed the door behind him, yet he wasn't prepared for the first thing he'd see when he turned on his flashlight.
As Brad raised his flashlight, a dusty old painting stared back at him; well, not the painting itself, but the boy in the painting seemed to be looking directly at him, grinning with a smile so sinister, it would have made Stone Cold Steve Austin question his masculinity before he filled his underwear with regretful disgust. "What the fuck….I mean, who the fuck is that!?" Brad said to the shine of his flashlight. "Maybe he used to live here" Brad said to himself softly, and continued into the living room where he intended to go to sleep immediately; this wasn't a search and rescue mission, so Brad was happy just going in, doing the time, and getting the fuck out of there the second the sun kissed the windowsills. Brad laid out his sleeping bag, took a sip of his water, and started perusing through Facebook before the night took him away, and he fell asleep for the last time.
At 9:30 a.m. the following morning, Jeff was finally able to wake Marcus up by rapping on his bedroom window. "Who the fuck is that!?" Marcus yelled sleepily at the window. "I tried calling you like a billion times!" Jeff exclaimed, and after Marcus threw on a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, the two were on their way to the old Critch place to check on Brad. "Why hasn't he texted yet?" Marcus asked. "He probably pussed out, and doesn't want to admit it." Jeff chuckled. But as the two friends were walking up the pathway of the Critch house, something felt off, neither of them were willing to admit it to each other, but each of them felt an inner dread consuming their bodies, and had no idea why. As Jeff opened the door, all there was to see was the sunlight pouring into an empty living room, shining on an empty sleeping bag, and a barely touched bottle of water. As he looked to the left, he saw the most awful painting he'd ever seen in his life - it was a young boy smiling with the most evil grin he'd ever seen, and he'd swear on his mother's life that he had his arm around Brad, who was screaming in horrified disbelief.
NB
