House Of Horrors

Moving In on Maple St.

"EMME!" Elle cries hoarsely. I wince at her pitchy wail, trying not to drop the box in my arms to cover my ears.

"I DON'T WANT TO LIVE HERE!" Elle practically screams in the doorway of our new house. Elle clutches at the doorway, her nails digging into the wood and her knuckles turning white.

"Can you please not scream so loudly to the entire neighborhood?" I ask, lowering the box in my hand to the floor and gently rubbing her knuckles. Elle gives me a pleading look, her face red and her cheeks wet. Elliot is nervously pacing up and down the porch outside, fighting a panic attack. I walk around Elle and loop my arms around my brother, making him halt.

"Take a deep breath." I advise, soothingly running my fingers through his dark hair. Elliot sucks in a deep breath, shaking in my arms as he exhales.

"Guys, this place is completely safe. I wouldn't let us live here if it wasn't." I promise. Taking Elliot's hand, I guide my brother past a stubborn Elle and back into the foyer. I point to a little white box on the wall next to the door, a green light blinking at us.

"Look, we have a security system. If anyone even tries to open the door without the code, an alarm goes off and the police immediately rush over here." I state. At my words Elle's arms limply fall back to her side, letting go of her death grip on the wooden door frame.

"And the realtor had the police search the house just this morning, no one is going to hurt us. Halloween was just a prank, and those jerks won't come back now that people live here." I say. Elliot's harsh breathing norms and Elle hesitantly takes a step inside. I cheer silently at my victory and shut the door to our new home.

"And the police didn't find anything?" Elliot asks.

"Not a thing." I say. "Also, there are so many rooms you guys can have a playroom." I add and their faces brighten a little.

"Really?" They ask at the same time.

"Yup, you guys want to go pick it out?" I ask.

"Yes!" They both answer, running up the stairs, I rush up after them, our footsteps making the stairs groan. Elle and Elliot run up and down the hallway, checking out every room.

"This one has a window seat!" Elle yells to Elliot.

"But this one is huge!" Elliot yells back from another room. I stand in the hallway as the madness carries on around me, staring at the nails mark on the floor. Someone was dragged down this hallway... a chill falls over me as I remember how the agent told me how four different murders have been committed here. I deiceded not to tell Elle and Elliot about it, they're already terrified of the house from the prank on Halloween.

"I think this one is perfect!" Elle's voices pulls me out of my thoughts. Both of them are standing in the middle room, between two other regular bedrooms. This room isn't small, but it is the smallest room out of all the rooms in this house, including the library . Stepping inside, I notice how this room has the least holes in the walls and no fingernail scratches running across the dark wooden floor.

"Good choice." I say. walking around, examining the torn wallpaper on the wall. This woman was right, this place defiantly is a fixer upper. This creepy dump needs a lot of work, much more than a stupid rug.

"Can we paint a cool design on the walls?" Elle asks. "Like a forest or clouds or something?" Elle adds excitedly.

"That's too girly. How about a spaceship?" Elliot suggests eagerly. "That's a little too complicated. Trees are lot easier." I say. I'm not a painter, but with the help of the Pinterest I can defiantly pull of decent. Elliot immediately pulls a sour face, so I pat his brown head to try to cheer him up.

"Don't worry, we'll think of something that you both like and is easy to paint." I promise. "And before we even think of painting we have to clean this place." I say, guiding the two downstairs.

"Yeah, this wallpaper is gross." Elle says as we reach the first floor. "And we should start cleaning now. The faster we start the sooner we don't have to look at this ancient wallpaper." I say, flicking the yellowing flower print as we pass.

The three of us walk into the retro kitchen, the dripping rusty faucet the only noise in the kitchen. A plastic bag of cleaning supplies that I bought sits on the printed counter. I open the bag but freeze when a black square catches my eyes. My blue eyes widen and a jolt rockets up my spine. Sitting next to the bag on the counter is my black flip phone. Completely destroyed, the cracked screen reflects my white, gaping face. Chunks of the phone are mashed in, I pick up the phone with a shaky hand and slowly flip it open. The numbers are completely gone and the larger screen completely shattered.

The phone suddenly falls apart, two halfs clattering loudly onto the patterned counter. I have no clue where my missing phone came from, it defiantly wasn't there when I put the bag in here this morning.