It was a dark and stormy night...

[Bonegavel]

John was ill prepared for the weather when he abandonded his car an hour or so before when it ran out of gas. The old decrepit house he approached looked like it had been 30 years without an occupant.

Wait a minute, is the porch light on?

[Bonegavel]

John was ill prepared for the weather when he abandonded his car an hour or so before when it ran out of gas. The old decrepit house he approached looked like it had been 30 years without an occupant.

Wait a minute, is the porch light on?



Lightning lit the thunderheads far above and the distant crack of thunder forced his heart into a staccato that seemed to steal his breath.

He crept up the tumbledown front steps and creaked his way to the front door. It may as well have been sweat that poured from his face as he reached to knock on the front door. Before his knuckles could rap on the grey wood of the front door that had long ago lost its paint, it opened and he was greeted by...

[WSUCougar]

...a gust of dank, musty air that reminded him immediately of moldy earth. The smell was not one that should be coming from inside a house, but rather a (and here his mind wrestled with the thought for a moment)...grave.

But surely this wouldn't stop him from entering, would it? He stepped forward...

[Groundhog]

..., his feet causing the floorboards beneath him to creak in a way that made him feel they might break under his weight. He could feel the hair standing up on the back of his neck, and began to wonder if entering this house had been a good idea.

Before he had time to finish this thought, he heard a voice. It was a quiet voice - barely more than a whisper - and it seemed to be coming from...

[Bonegavel]

..., his feet causing the floorboards beneath him to creak in a way that made him feel they might break under his weight. He could feel the hair standing up on the back of his neck, and began to wonder if entering this house had been a good idea.

Before he had time to finish this thought, he heard a voice. It was a quiet voice - barely more than a whisper - and it seemed to be coming from...

... behind him. John's heart pounded such that his sight was awash with bright spots that had to mean fainting was close. The ringing in his ears from the rushing blood blocked out the shrieks that errupted from his spittle-crusted mouth.

He lunged to the doorway and a frantic look showed him that the light he swore was burning brightly was now out. Inside the empty cob-webbed rusted metal sconce was a lightbulb. His face twisted a smile as he reached for it expecting to be happily burned but he was instead greeted with cold glass that shattered easily, cutting his palm in several places.

He turned to flee down the front steps but the boards beneath his feet ...

[Groundhog]

... finally gave way, sending his left leg crashing through the floor. In a wild craze he tore his leg free, ripping open both his jeans and leg, though any pain he may have felt was washed away by a fresh surge of adrenalin. All that mattered to him now was making it out the door alive, and escaping the unseen horror that lurked within this house.

His fear had drowned out his own voice, leaving him unaware of the scream that he had been emitting ever since he had heard that voice; that demonic whisper, hinting at secrets his mind not dare not attempt to guess. Succumbing to this madness, he leapt from the top of the stairs, hitting the marshy lawn chest first.

He was free from the house - from whatever terror lay within it's withered walls - yet he could not bring his body to move from the ground. Finally, after the passing of several seconds that seemed to last hours, he turned to face the house. He did not wish to see it again, yet found himself unable to resist this urge. It was as though it held a power over him, and was calling him back. What he saw nearly broke the final strand of sanity that he had managed to retain. For, up on the porch and mere meters from where he lay...

[Franklinnoble]

... was a pack of ravenous ice weasels. There was only one defense against a hungry ice weasel, so John reached into his coat pocket and...

[KevinNU7]

... finally gave way, sending his left leg crashing through the floor. In a wild craze he tore his leg free, ripping open both his jeans and leg, though any pain he may have felt was washed away by a fresh surge of adrenalin. All that mattered to him now was making it out the door alive, and escaping the unseen horror that lurked within this house.

His fear had drowned out his own voice, leaving him unaware of the scream that he had been emitting ever since he had heard that voice; that demonic whisper, hinting at secrets his mind not dare not attempt to guess. Succumbing to this madness, he leapt from the top of the stairs, hitting the marshy lawn chest first.

He was free from the house - from whatever terror lay within it's withered walls - yet he could not bring his body to move from the ground. Finally, after the passing of several seconds that seemed to last hours, he turned to face the house. He did not wish to see it again, yet found himself unable to resist this urge. It was as though it held a power over him, and was calling him back. What he saw nearly broke the final strand of sanity that he had managed to retain. For, up on the porch and mere meters from where he lay...

stood his wife whom he had not seen for many years. At that moment he felt overwelmed with emotions which crippled him leaving him frozen and unable to move as...

[Raiders Army]

...he heard a ghastly shriek of pain sound from behind him. Deliberately, John turned towards the sound, wrenching his eyes away from his wife and the decrepit house. He looked into the dimly lit street and saw his mother dressed in the tattered dress he buried her two days ago.

From the house behind him, he heard a cackle of madness erupt from his wife. After what seemed to be an eternity, he turned and walked towards his...

[Warhammer]

wife.

Suddenly the unnamed horror jumped out of the house. It had a boom box, and suddenly he realized exactly what it was, or who it was. Richard Simmons! Music began to play and suddenly....

[KevinNU7]

Warhammer comes running out of the house yelling, "I have no writing skills so I'm going to kill a nice thread."

[Bonegavel]

...he heard a ghastly shriek of pain sound from behind him. Deliberately, John turned towards the sound, wrenching his eyes away from his wife and the decrepit house. He looked into the dimly lit street and saw his mother dressed in the tattered dress he buried her two days ago.

From the house behind him, he heard a cackle of madness erupt from his wife. After what seemed to be an eternity, he turned and walked towards his...
... shoe that had come off during his struggle to escape. What was once a month old hardly scuffed Nike was now a aged and worn. Shoelaces were tattered and no longer the color of new.

At the top of the porch stairs there was now a pile of tattered rags where his wife (or what he believed to be his wife) had stood. The look of agony on her face was all he could remember of her.

Why can't I remember her name? Why can't I remember where she is?

He quickly looked down at his left hand and noticed that it was missing his wedding ring. Before he could ponder this further the same shriek he heard before was now coming from within the house.

His hand continued to bleed and his ruined leg was losing its numbness. The pain in each step was excruciating, but the shriek called him like a twisted Siren.

Once again he entered the house. The door slammed shut behind him and...

[M GO BLUE!!!]

He was stunned to find not the tattered ruins of the decrepit horror show, which he had first encountered, but the quaint setting of an English bed & breakfast that seemed strangely familiar.

The smell of fresh tea and bacon permeated the air, and water could be heard running upstairs. A sweet, songbird-like woman’s voice sang a song John knew, but could not place.

Drawn to this angelic voice as a child is drawn to a mother, John ascended the staircase...

[Desnudo]

At the top of which was waiting amdaily with a case of Mickeys.

[Franklinnoble]

Hey... I kind of liked the whole ice weasels thing... but... whatever... y'all wanna go be the next Stephen King, go right ahead.

[Raven Hawk]

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now, don't you cry . . .

The song bit into his ears as he climbed the stairs to the top.

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, that's an Irish lullaby.

Pain seeped deeper into his leg and hand with every chorus sung. The stairs rose higher and higher as he fought to get to the source of the song.

[Bonegavel]

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now, don't you cry . . .

The song bit into his ears as he climbed the stairs to the top.

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, that's an Irish lullaby.

Pain seeped deeper into his leg and hand with every chorus sung. The stairs rose higher and higher as he fought to get to the source of the song.

He never reached the top of the stairs.

The haunting lullaby overwhelmed his senses. The blood oozing from his wounds seemed to shriek with the song-

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now, don't you cry

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, that's an Irish lullaby.

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li...

John's eyes went from the blackness of them being shut to the blackness of the absence of light. The thick smell of ancient dankness assaulted his now awake nose as the events on the stairs came back to him like a hammer to the head.

Fire and needles erupted from his leg as he tried to stand up. The throbbing and heat from his hand reminded him of the horrible infection he suffered after carpal tunnel surgery a few years ago.

His mind wandered to those days. He remembered a woman sitting at his bedside with a worried look on her face and he knew the worried look wasn't because of his condition. Was that- was that his wife?

"Mary!" he screamed. The lucid daydream evaporated and his adjusting eyes were able to make out the shape of a door thanks to a faint light on the other side.

[Raven Hawk]

Sitting on the stairs with a bloodied hand and knee, John was now once again faced with the reality that he was in an old, decrepit house and that his gasless car was sitting an hour's walk away . . . two hours with his newly bloodied knee. A thought came to his head as he warily eyed the odd light coming from outside the door,

"A phone, perhaps?"

He slowly limped back down to the bottom of the stairs as they creaked beneath his feet. There in the front hallway was an ancient telephone that John swore could have been used by Thomas Edison himself. He picked up the earpiece from its hanger and tapped the hanger up and down in a frantic effort to get a signal.

"Hello!" he cried into the black mouthpiece that appeared to be sucking the word right out of his mouth into its black vortex.

"Hello!" he cried again. Still nothing.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the light in the doorway begin to grow brighter . . .

[Raven Hawk]

John dropped the receiver and walked towards the light. The receiver, still tethered to the base thunked against the wall as it hit. John kept moving toward the front door. The floor began creaking again, reminding John to step around the hole where his leg went through.

Upon reaching the threshold, John noticed that the blinding light was coming from mutiple sources, but couldn't make out exactly what the sources were. Just then, a tinny voice was amplified through the chilled air.

"Hold it right there, sir," rang out the tinny voice "Do not make any sudden movements."

[Julio Riddols]

Outside a dirt-encrusted window, John could make out the red and blue colors one would associate with lights on the top of a Police Cruiser. He stood silent, his mind trying desperately to grasp the last ten minutes' events when he heard the voice again, this time commanding him "Place your hands in the air and move slowly toward the window"

Almost unconsciously, he obliged. The blinding sight of headlights shining now directly toward him made him turn his face downward to avoid their intrusive glow- And he noticed what appeared to be a body on the front porch.

His mind jumped back and forth from the surreal to the real, blurring his perception of each, recalling events that could have actually happened as easily as they could have been considered a nightmare. Wrestling with the spectre of the unknown, he spiraled out of consciousness and fell to the floor, the last sound he heard being a door bursting open..

[Bonegavel]

John entered awareness while in his dream he was walking around and around inside a revolving door that didn't have an exit.

He sat up in a bed with fresh clean linens; the smell of chlorine bleach, heavy in his nostrils, explained how the old sheets could look so white. A small lamp was on a little table next to his bed and it was casting its frail light across what appeared to be a bedroom.

The decor and condition of the room (white sheets aside) suggested to him that he was upstairs in the house that seemed to want him dead or, at the very least, gone.

He sat up and wished he had his cigarettes when he noticed a book on the table with the lamp.