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Rated: E · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #2097130
A strange abandoned house filled with strange phenomena. It's only a dream or is it?
There once was a boy who walked down a lane one autumn evening. It was twilight when he came upon an iron gate. With an eerie creak, the gate swung open by itself as the boy came near.
“It was just the wind,” he told himself.
But it was not the wind. The air was as still and silent as a grave that evening. Curiously, he ventured up the ancient cobblestone path beyond the gate. An abandoned three story house came into view. The yard was strewn with giant pine cones the size of refrigerators and most of the windows were boarded up with bits of old yardsticks. A giant key hung by the front door.
The boy thought about how creepy the place looked and was about to leave when the front door opened all by itself. Again, curiosity drove him onward.
Inside was a dreary hallway with an old rickety flight of stairs heading up to the second floor, a dusty floor, and dingy paneling. Suddenly, something made the boy jump with fright. A mouse ran across the room and into a hole under the stairs!
“Only a mouse,” he thought, but then things got really strange.
The front door closed by itself and then the lock clicked! The boy ran to the door and twisted the knob in desperation, but the door would not open.
“Oh, no!” he cried.
Without explanation, the candles in the chandelier overhead lit by themselves and the first door on the left beyond the stairs opened itself just a bit.
“A haunted house?” he thought with fear and curiosity.
He knew he needed to find a way out and the front door was locked fast, so he ventured onward. Pushing open the door to the room beyond the stairs, he came upon an old fireplace.
The mantle was adorned with stone carvings of musical instruments, insects, and skeleton bones. A creepy old wooden chair stood to one side. To the other side was a little table covered with cobwebs. On the table were some old pictures. Behind the pictures was an old dusty mirror and drawn in the dust was an arrow.
Following the arrow, the boy found himself in a small room with bookshelves full of old books. There was an old upholstered chair with a sharp tack on the armrest waiting for the unsuspecting. Across the room was a loudly ticking grandfather clock. The time on the clock read nine minutes to midnight.
“Can't be that late, I've only been here a few minutes,” thought the boy as he shuddered with a sense of dread.
On the shelves among the books one could find a coin the size of a dinner plate and a giant staring eyeball among other oddities. A string hung from a crack.
Approaching closely, the boy discovered the crack with the string was actually a secret door! There was no secret passage inside, only a little cupboard filled with dusty old toys, most looked over a hundred years old, and there was something else, keys!
“Wonder if any of these will unlock the front door?” the boy pondered.
Gazing at the faded labels over the keys, he saw there was a key to the back door, but none to the front door. Also, a peg labeled “WORKSHOP” was missing its key.
Just then, there was a clicking sound distinct from the loud ticking of the grandfather clock and an old toy stoplight lit up green! Next to the stoplight was a ball with the number two on it, a picture of an anonymous gravestone, a number four made of bones, and next to that, a picture of a key.
“Green means go,” he thought. “Go, Go to, Go to the graveyard for the key!” his mind continued. “But where's the graveyard?” he wondered.
Taking the back door key, the boy returned to the hallway and made his way to the door at the far end.
“This must be the back door,” he thought as he inserted the key into the lock. Click and pop and the door swung open!
The boy found himself in the backyard surrounded by decaying picket fences and among them was a small cluster of gravestones.
He observed the odd sight of the backyard graveyard and cautiously, he approached the old stones under the moonlight. Suddenly, he felt something grab his legs and he fell to the ground, his heart pounding with fright!
Gathering himself a moment later, he saw it was only an old rusted chain he tripped over and there in front of him by an old shovel was a key. Excitedly, he took the key back to the house, but when he tried to unlock the front door with it, it would not work.
Realizing the key must be the one to the workshop, he walked down the hallway until he came to a door with an old brass plaque reading “WORKSHOP KEEP OUT!”
He tried the key and the door opened, the hinges squeaking a loud eerie sound. He descended the stairs to the basement feeling a building sense of anticipation with each step.
On a workbench in front of him was a strange machine consisting of glowing lights, hoses, metal funnels, and other seemingly random parts. As he approached, a flask of liquid hanging from chains tipped itself into one of the machine's funnels.
The machine began making noises as vapor rose from it. Suddenly, a cork burst out and a great cloud of vapor escaped! Startled, the boy was about to run when he saw something on the workbench, a key. A key with a label reading “FRONT DOOR.”
He grabbed the key, but before he could do anything else, the vapor rushed past him and up the stairs as if it had a mind of its own! It wormed its way through the hallway and headed straight into the fireplace and up the chimney.
The boy ran to the front door and, shaking with fright, managed to unlock it. As he ran from the old house, he saw something emerging from the chimney. Not just vapor, but something taking form. It was the form of a giant ghost escaping into the night!
The boy ran, but he lost his way. Instead of returning to the front gate, he found himself in a garden where a stone fountain glistened in the moonlight. He wondered desperately if he could ever escape, but then with a jolt, he awoke safe in his own bed. Through the window he saw the first rays of dawn illuminating the horizon.
“It was all a dream,” he sighed with relief.
But as the light of the new day filled his room, the boy noticed something on his shelf that he would swear was not there the night before. There among his things was an old key, just like the one he used to unlock the front door of the old creepy haunted house!
“It was all a dream, wasn't it?” he pondered.

THE END
© Copyright 2016 P Gordon Kennedy (pgordonkennedy at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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