Demon's House

Quicksa- Welcome Mat?

"Bye, Atlas!" I waved as my friend Jay called out to me over their shoulder. They'd asked me to walk them home from school before my band practice was supposed to start. They only lived a couple streets from the school, so I'd managed to get someone to cover me if the band director asked. It was impossible to say no when they begged me not to make them walk alone; it is their birthday after all.

You see, there's this house on their road. Apparently, it burned up - not completely falling, just charing - around the time they were born, and no one talks about it. Everyone avoids it like the plague, and their grandma told them it burned because Jay was born. Ever since they always ask someone to walk them home on their birthday, assuming it falls on a school day to begin with. Otherwise, you'd be crazy to try and ask them to leave their house. It was already bad enough it was directly across the street from their bedroom window, which always seemed to have the thick curtains drawn over them.

I glanced at the old house for the first time. The responsibility had never fallen on me to walk them home, and the entire walk that day, I'd been avoiding it so Jay didn't catch me looking. Who knows how they would've reacted? Now that I actually took the time to examine it, the house looked pretty creepy. Maybe it wouldn't have looked so creepy if Jay's birthday didn't happen to fall on Halloween, adding to the believability of the superstition around it. The monstrosity stood out amongst the bright happy houses surrounding it. It was obvious it'd been burned by the color and texture, but other than that, it looked completely stable. I realized I could probably walk right inside without having to worry about anything falling on me.

On that thought, I walked up to the house. Why, I wasn't sure. I guess I wanted a closer look. My hand came up to touch the wood, finding it to be completely sturdy. There wasn't even any ash on it as I had expected. The wind probably blew it all off ages ago. As my fingers brushed the doorbell, reality slammed back into me. I had just walked my friend home because they, and their whole family, were scared of this house. And now I was standing on the porch touching it. I had band practice I was going to be late for. Fog seemed to cloud over my mind at that moment. It was like my anxiety meds were giving me a drowsy side effect.

Then this thought crossed my mind: I wonder if the doorbell still works. Could I even hear it out here? That didn't matter to me in my dumbed state. My fingers pushed into the button, and it pressed in so smoothly. Smoothly... The wood under my feet was starting to feel smooth. I sucked in a breath as I realized I was sinking. The fog on my brain receded as quickly as it came, and fear gripped me. More than anything else, I was afraid of what I would find once I'd sank under. Would I just suffocate or fall straight through to Hell?

The deeper I sank the faster it happened. I sucked in as much breath as a could and held it with clenched teeth and eyes... and every other body part possible to tense. As my head went under, I realized my feet were free. I could feel the "quicksand" unstick and pull away like sticky tentacles. When I could breath again, the air I'd been holding came out in a hot rush.

I went to take in a nice steady breath, but landed and felt my lungs flatten before I could. Struggling to take in air, I flailed around trying to grip the material beneath me. What was this? It felt sticky and almost... slimy? I swallowed bile, and finally felt my lungs resume normal function. Coughing racked my body until I was crying and gagging, curled into a ball. Even as a caught my breath, some tears and whimpers still escaped me. I curled tighter into myself, and tried to calm down. It was more than likely I'd need to be clear headed for whatever laid ahead for me.

Taking in long, even breaths, I began to organize my panicked thoughts. It helped that I was beginning to numb. I peeled my upper half off the sticky blob I had decided was mostly in the shape of a sphere, dented by my weight. As I tried to guesstimate the size of the slime ball and safely find the floor, loud footfalls rang out. I froze and felt my breath halt on instinct. They were definitely coming straight towards me. It was possible I was in a hallway... And it was also possible I was at the end of the hall. Trapped.

My eyes clenched shut, and I struggle to hold back more fearful tears. What kind of guy just sits around and cries? It occurred to me in unhelpful clarity how little I knew about self-defense. Regret crept in at having never gotten around to asking my military brother to teach me. Around this moment I realized three things: I was trembling, hyperventilating rather than holding my breath, and the footsteps were slowing down. Without knowing the size of my ball, I had no idea how close the steps really were. It sounded like they were coming from level with me, but that couldn't be possible.

It was that moment it randomly occurred to me I was going to miss band practice. Amazing, convenient timing brain. I may have laughed if I wasn't moments away from pissing myself. The footsteps slowed to a stop, and the anticipation was one spark away from snapping my insanity. I got the feeling I wasn't escaping here with it intact. Escaping... That was the moment it dawned on me I was gonna have to escape if I wanted to leave.