The Man with the Brown Paper Bags
When I was in elementary school, we used to take class trips down the street to the library or the middle school. On every trip, a friend of mine, Olive, would regale me with horror stories about this one house that we passed. (Here is a picture of it.) She would tell me of people who went in there, only to never come out; of faint screams being heard from the inside; and of mysterious sightings in the windows.
After many trips, I told her defiantly that I didn't believe a word she said. Olive replied with a dare. A dare to go into the house. I, against my better judgement, accepted. She said she would stand by the door and prop it open. On the next trip to the library, she and I went to the back of the line and snuck away into the yard of the house. I walked up to the door and stood there nervously as Olive grabbed a couple bricks. She turned the knob and pushed the door open, and set the bricks down to prevent it from closing. She then gestured for me to enter the house. I was scared out of my mind at the prospect of entering, but I still went in. I stepped into the house carefully.
Looking around at the foyer, I saw a staircase leading up to the right, a hallway to the left and a hallway in front of me. A beautiful blood-red chandelier adorned the ceiling. I went down the long and narrow hallway to the left. It let out in a large room filled with bookshelves. I walked through the aisles carefully and picked out a book at random. Opening it to a random page, I dropped the book in shock at what was in it. I picked it back up and began to flip through the pages. At first I thought there were no words, just horribly gruesome pictures. Pictures of men being eviscerated; women being decapitated; children being burned at the stake.
They almost looked like photographs, until I peered closer and saw that each picture was made up of miniscule written words. I carried the book over to a desk and picked up a magnifying glass off of it, blowing the dust off. After a moment of fitful coughing due to the plume of dust, I held the magnifying glass over the words. Peering through the glass, I saw that the words were in some strange language. Looking back at it now, I’m pretty sure it was a mixture of ancient Greek letters and Latin ones. I sounded out a couple of the words curiously, and to my horror, I began to hear chanting. I dropped the magnifying glass and threw the book across the room. Despite my actions, the chanting did not cease, it only grew louder.
I took my hearing aid out and stashed it in my pocket. After doing so, I covered my ears and trudged towards the hallway. It was like I was wading through molasses. I finally collapsed at the hallway entrance and dragged myself down it. As I did so, the chanting stopped. I stood up and realised that this wasn’t the hallway that I had entered from. I stood up and returned my hearing aid to my ear. I walked cautiously down the hallway and turned the corner into a kitchen. I wandered over to the refrigerator and opened it. Instantly I regretted doing so, as the putrid and pervasive smell of rotten and decaying food filled the room. I slammed the fridge door shut with disgust. After I had done so, I heard footsteps. Heart racing wildly, I opened one of the lower cupboards and scrambled in, closing it behind me.
After several suspenseful moments, peering through a crack between the cupboard doors, I saw a pair of bloodied boots walk past. I heard a strange sound after that and resisted the temptation to burst out of the cupboard and flee. All of a sudden, a horrific face popped down from above the counter. It had shriveled and bloodshot eyes, with an unnaturally small but menacing smile. It smiled at me for a couple seconds. Then it bared its razor sharp teeth, emitted a guttural snarl, and disappeared to the sound of a whipcrack.
After a minute of hesitation, I thrust open the cupboard doors and lurched to my feet. Breathing heavily, I ran to the kitchen door, turned the corner, and dashed down the other hallway that was connected to the kitchen. Arriving in the foyer, I tripped over a pile of books and fell flat. Olive darted forward and dragged me to my feet. We turned heel and ran out of the house. I turned around and looked into the house as Olive began removing the bricks from the door. A second after I turned to face the house, the chandelier detached from the ceiling. It hurtled downwards and hit the floor, but instead of stopping, the floorboards splintered and broke, and the chandelier fell out of sight. The dreadful thing that I had seen in the kitchen was standing at the end of the hallway, shrouded in shadow.
Olive finished removing the bricks and the door to the house slammed shut with a terrific crash. Movement from the window above caught my eye. I saw the thing again. It smiled and did a small wave. I grabbed Olive's hand and we ran as though we had never run before. Once we reached the library and stopped to catch our breath, Olive fixed me with a pointed stare and said calmly, “I told you.”
The next morning, a news report came on. It said that people on that street had reported a disturbance to the police. The police had investigated the house and discovered dozens of corpses below the floorboards, all in different stages of decay.
Submitted September 02, 2016 at 05:41AM by Arhiinadohkt http://ift.tt/2bO3WzE nosleep
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