The sky was dishwater gray, and a cold drizzle began. It wasn’t a rain, but just enough that I needed to periodically use the windshield wipers. Oh, I should probably introduce myself. My name is Erica and I’m the lead investigative reporter. Well, that’s the title they gave me. In reality, I’m the only reporter for the newspaper I write for. It’s for a small town. So small in fact, that we don’t even offer an online newspaper. There is one thing that everyone in this town loves to read about- haunted houses. Not ghosts, poltergeists, or flying Ouija boards, but the people who go to the Halloween stores that are set up in abandoned ShopKo. They buy a bunch of cheap animatronics and turn their garage into a haunted house. It isn’t quite like Knotts Scary Farm, or Halloween Horror Nights. Trust me, I have tried going to them. My boss just tells me we don’t have it in the budget to send me across the country and that we barely have the money for new office chairs.
This was a rare occasion. I was at my desk typing on my computer that was still using Windows95. I was putting the finishing touches on the big story of the year- who was going to be crowned Pumpkin Queen at this year’s harvest fest. It was at this moment that a letter came across my desk. It read:
Congratulations to the lucky recipient of this letter! You have been selected to participate in the media day for the opening of the Devil’s House. This new Haunted House is opening this October. As we know, budgets might be tight, so we are including a fifty dollar gift card for gas. It is yours to keep regardless if you come or not. Although we are “frightfully” looking forward to hearing you scream. The address is listed below.
Sincerely,
Lucy
Devil’s House Owner and Operator
I brought the letter up to my boss. He was more than thrilled to send me there, mainly because it would not cost him anything to do so.
My GPS took me off the main highway and onto a dirt road. A little ways up was a big hand painted sign saying ‘Parking’ with an arrow pointing to the right. Parking was just a big open area in the woods. There were about a dozen or so cars already parked there. On top of a hill sat a house. From the distance all that could be seen was the top of its roof and a few spires sticking up. A stone wall surrounded the house and between the wall and the house was a forest of trees. The tops of the trees were bare of all their leaves. People were gathered in front of a gate. As I walked up, I opened my handheld notebook and quickly jotted, ‘Fake trees with no leaves. Very spooky! Excellent details.’ I took out my digital camera and snapped a picture.
I looked over and saw someone I knew, “Frank?” I said out loud. The man turned around.
“Erica?” he said, with a questioning tone. “Oh my gosh Erica! It is you! How have you been? I haven’t seen you since college.” Frank walked over and gave me a hug. He was just a head taller than me, has brown eyes, and isn’t too bad to look at.
“How are the wife and kids?” I asked Frank.
Frank let out a sigh of sadness. “Barbara and the kids left me six months ago. I was overseas covering the war and she said enough was enough. There was a note on the table and everything.”
“On my gosh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” I said.
“How are you and your husband? Is he still working at the sheriff’s department?”
“No, he works as a..” I was not able to complete my sentence. A man wearing a striped three piece suit and a fedora hat strolled up to the gate. With a smooth almost snake-like voice he said, “Welcome to the Devil’s House.”
The gates opened with a cryptic creak on its rusty hinges. We all walked through the gates, noticing on our left that there was a small wooden shack that said ‘Tickets, Food, and Souvenirs.’ The letters of each word had little trails of paint under them as if written is still wet blood. The group of reporters and photographers started to make their way up the winding forest path. About halfway to the house, the group stopped in a large opening in the woods where a fire was already blazing away. The man in the suit stood in front of the fire pit and explained, “Oh, this is where the main waiting area is. The path to the left takes you to the graveyard and the exit of the house. The right path takes you to the house itself, and here is where the scare begins.”
The fire flared up and a man jumped out from the woods. He raised a chainsaw above his head and revved it. I’d be remiss if I did not say I might have peed a little. The chainsaw cut out and left only the sound of the fire crackling. The man in the suit shouted, “Be gone demon! Your master commands it!” The man with the chainsaw walked back into the woods. The man in the suit turned back to the group and said, “Where are my manners? My name is Lucy and this is my house.” He raised both hands in the air dramatically and the fire flared back up. “And the bathrooms are to your left.” The group let out a collected laugh. I snapped a couple of photos and wrote in my notebook, ‘Waiting area sets the mood with a campfire and trees all around. There are also clean bathrooms.’
“Come now everyone, let’s continue to the manor and stay with the group. I don’t want to lose anyone. Well not yet,” Lucy said and then let out a devilish laugh. Creepy ambient music started to play as the group made its way to the house. The house was big with a small waist high stone wall with mossy overgrowth encircling the front. A small gate was open, and the path turned to stone as two sets of small stone stairs led up a small hill to the house. A stone wall followed the path and lanterns were flickering every ten feet or so. I took a picture with my phone along with my digital camera. Movement of shadows flashed by the windows and a small light glowed faintly in the center spire window. I noticed a plaque hidden by overgrowth. I moved part of the shrub away and I could just make out the word ‘Ravenswood.’ I wrote in my notebook, ‘A three story Victorian manor run down and dilapidated, background music, combined with the overall spooky atmosphere definitely will cause even the bravest among us to have their anxiety heightened.
Lucy greeted us one by one, shaking hands as people entered the manor. It was just then that I realized I was the only female in the group of people which consisted of about fourteen or maybe eighteen in all. When I got up next to Lucy he said, “Welcome, so glad you could make it.” He looked at me and instead of shaking my hand, he kissed it. A wave of euphoria rushed out from my hand down to my feet, then up to my head, finally returning to the back of my hand where he kissed me. The feeling could be best described as overjoyed. It’s like the feeling of running out of your bedroom on Christmas morning mixed with the panic of going over the first drop on a roller coaster. All these feelings happened in just a few seconds. I looked up to see Lucy giving me his best seductive look as his eyes met mine. I smiled back awkwardly and said,
“Thank you.” The seductive look faulted for a mere second. He then leaned in and whispered,
“My, my, my, aren’t we the strong willed one. I got my eye on you child.” He handed me a scrap of paper with the number eleven on it.
I walked into the waiting area. Once the last person was in, Lucy said, “Good luck. Oh, and one last thing. If you make it out of the Devil’s House, you will be granted one wish.” With those parting words, he closed the door from the outside. The two suits of armor that were standing Sentry inside the doorway turned on a pedestal and their lances crossed making an ‘X’ in front of the door, barring any escape. The waiting room had a Victorian era feel. The wallpaper was torn in some spots, exposing the wooden wall behind and a small table was in the center of the room. A second story walkway that overlooks the main room has a large set of stairs in the middle that rise up a few feet before splitting left and right and connecting to the walkway above. A voice came out of speakers mounted to the wall. It almost sounded like Vincent Price.
“Welcome! This house is full of thrills and chills and is meant to be walked alone. When your number is called, please enter the room on your left. There is only one sure way to leave.” Just then the room went black and a scream could be heard. The lights came back on and a skeleton was hanging down in front of the small table in the center of the room with a noose around its neck, with the toes just scraping the top of the table. The voice called out the numbers one at a time and the person would enter the next room. The door closed behind them and a few minutes later the next number was called. Frank was number seven. He gave me a thumbs up as he walked into the room. After a while, my number was called. I had butterflies in my stomach and was excited to see what was coming next.