House of Horrors: A Dawn & Rosie Short Story

Chapter 6

Dawn swallowed audibly and edged forward. "Gracious, aren't their props impressive?"

"A little too realistic for my tastes," Rosie said acidly. But she followed her towards what appeared to be a hospital bed in the centre of the room, complete with a comatose patient hooked up to all manner of tubes and wires.

Rosie leaned over to get a better look and quickly pressed her fist to her lips as she gagged. "Oh, God," she groaned, swallowing hard.

"Squeamish, are we?" Dawn giggled, patting her on the back. "It's not real, remember."

Rosie risked another peek. "Perhaps not – but they've done a stuffing excellent job."

The patient's ribcage, held open with a series of hooks, presented a clear view of a beating heart, nestled in with lungs that appeared, for all intents and purposes, to be breathing.

"Gosh, just look at the attention to detail!" Dawn exclaimed, fascinated.

"That's disgusting," Rosie replied flatly. "Bloody morbid, you are – can we go, now, please?"

Dawn turned to tease her, but the patient suddenly bolted upright between them, and they shrieked. Rosie zoomed to the other side of the room, practically plastering herself against the wall in her bid to escape. Dawn, who'd only gone a couple of steps, grinned at her from across the way, and the patient slowly reclined again.

"Wow," she chortled, lifting an eyebrow at Rosie. "We're certainly getting our money's worth!"

"I can't believe you paid for this!" Rosie shot back, unpeeling herself from alongside a cupboard. "They should bloody pay us to be here, I feel."

She skirted the hospital bed, glaring at its occupant, and Dawn jovially looped an arm through hers when she was close enough.

"Onwards, shall we?"

"Absolutely – one bloody inch closer to the exit, at least."

They stepped towards the next door – but the lights went out. Strangled gasps escaped them, and they froze, clinging to each other. Around them, the dark pressed in, heavy, and eerily quiet.

After a moment, Rosie said hoarsely, "Where are the bloody markers? Aren't they supposed to glow?"

Dawn scanned the floor and finally picked out a faint luminescence several feet away. "There! There's one by the door."

Cautiously, they picked their way towards salvation. When they reached it, Dawn felt about for a handle and pulled it open, and above them, the fluorescent light flickered back on. It blinked off again, and on, on and off, illuminating in flashes a long, clinical corridor beyond the red-rust doorframe. Further down, another light also flickered periodically, so that the stretch was more shadow than light – and the clicking sound of its futile efforts to properly ignite echoed into the quiet.

"Great," Rosie snarked, staring down the creepy passage. "All we need now is the bloody serial killer."

Dawn gave a delicious shiver. "Let's hope not!"

She tugged Rosie forward, and they proceeded in fits and starts down the stark hallway, only moving when the light briefly flashed, and they could see. Hospital doors lined either side, and Rosie averted her eyes as shadowy hands pressed against the inside of each glass port they passed. Far-off moans, punctuated by the odd chilling scream, penetrated the quiet, and Dawn covered her nose against the acrid smell of disinfectant. Always, the lights flickered on and off. On, and off.

As they passed the last door, a soft sobbing caught Dawn's attention, and she stopped.

"Heavens," she murmured. "Will you listen to that?"