The House on the Hill
Philip and Jean Martin had been planning this vacation for months and now at last they were on their way. Jean drove as Philip unfolded the road map and said, "The next turn should be ten miles up this road then we'll find Irvington twenty miles after that." He refolded the map, put it down next to him and stared out the windshield.
Suddenly Philip became excited. "Stop the car," he yelled and fumbled with his seatbelt. "Pull over and stop!"
Jean steered the car onto the shoulder and stopped. "Philip, what's wrong? Are you going to be sick?"
In his hurry to exit the car, Philip stumbled and fell. Jean got out and walked around the car. She found him sitting on the ground staring at something on the other side of the road. "That's it, Jean! That's it!"
"What's it?" she asked and turned to see what he was looking at. On the other side of the highway was a dirt road that meandered up a steep hill. At the top of the hill was a large, old house.
"That's the house in my dreams."
"It can't be." She reached down to help him back onto his feet.
As he got up, Philip never took his eyes off the house. "Let's go check it out."
"We don't have time. It's going to be dark soon and it's getting ready to rain. We have thirty more miles to go; you know I don't like to drive at night in the rain." She put her hands on his shoulders and made him look at her. "Night after night you wake up screaming and all you can remember from your dream is the house. If you think this is that house, why would you want to go any where near it?"
"I have to know for sure. Please, let's go up and have a closer look."
"It doesn't look like anyone has lived there in years." She sighed. "OK, but just a quick look. I'd like to get settled in our motel room before the rain starts." As Jean started driving up the dirt road she said, "I can't believe we're doing this. It's like something out of a bad movie, a very bad movie."
She stopped the car at the bottom of the front steps. Before she could get out of the car, Philip was already running up the stairs. He took hold of the doorknob and shook it. "It's locked," he said.
"It would be wouldn't it?" she mumbled, as she walked up the steps. "It's a real estate agent's lock, but I didn't see any 'for sale' signs."
"That's all right we can get in here," he said and ran around the corner, where the porch wrapped around to the side of the house.
Jean followed him and found him opening the glass French doors. "Philip, stop! Don't go in there."
"Why not?"
"How did you know those doors would be there?"
"Suddenly I remembered that in my dream the front door was locked but I got in through the double doors on the side of the house." He started to go in.
"Don't go in." Jean grabbed his arm. "What happens after you go inside the house? Do you remember any more of your dream?"
"No, but if I go inside, maybe it will come to me."
"Are you sure you want to know? You don't remember what happens in your dream, but I remember how it ends. It ends with you screaming. The first time you had this dream the neighbors heard you and called the police. They thought you were being murdered."
Philip leaned against the porch railing. "I need to know. I'm tired of waking up like that, terrified and not knowing why. This should be safe. I'm not alone, you're with me."
"If you can't remember, how do you know I'm not with you in your dream? Maybe I'm the reason you end up screaming."
"Please help me. I have to know. If I can remember while I'm awake, I'll stop having the dream."
Jean took his hand. "Ok, but I really feel funny about this." They entered the house together.
Philip found the light switch. When the lights came on, he smiled. "Now it's not so scary. At least the electricity is on, so we don't have to bump around in the dark."
"Do you remember any more of your dream?"
"I remember the layout of the house." Philip started walking. "This is the dining room, this door opens to the kitchen and we go through the kitchen to the living room. In the living room is the staircase. The bedrooms are up stairs." He turned on the lights in each room.
Jean followed him. "We shouldn't be doing this. We're trespassing." When Philip started up the stairs she began to panic. He was no longer talking; he looked like he was sleepwalking. She caught up with him on the landing at the top of the stairs and took hold of his hand. "I don't like this. Philip, talk to me."
When he turned to face her, his eyes had turned from pale blue to black. The expression on his face was one of smoldering rage. "Who are you? You don't belong here," he yelled and pulled his hand out of hers. "Get out of my house, now!"
"You get out of my husband and we'll both leave your house."
"No, you leave. I've worked very hard to bring him here and he will stay."
"I'm not leaving without him and you can't make me."
"You will leave or you will die, it makes no difference to me." The thing possessing Philip grabbed Jean and threw her over the railing to the floor below.
Jean sat up quickly, turned on the light by the bed and shook her screaming husband. "Wake up, Philip. You're having that dream again."
986 words
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