Visit Our Annual haunted House page at the link below! STORY TIME YOU add the next paragraph to continue the tale... It was a dark night with a chill in the air. We could see our breath pumping like a steam engine as we rode our bikes on the dirt path to the old house. It was a short way there but, the time seemed to go in slow motion. So many thoughts going through my mind. My nerves were excited and the anticipation left me with shivers. After all, this was horror house.... The place where no one left alive. The spirits of the dead still roam these hallways, I had been told. Just the thought of that sent shivers down my spine as I made my way through the moonlit path, pumping my bike harder and faster as my brain exploded with ideas of what it would be like to spend an entire night in a haunted sanitarium. My chest pounded wildly as my friends and I continued courageously toward our destination. What mysteries would the old place unfold for us tonight? All my friends always told me and my friends stories .. Stories of shadows that lurked in the halls and moans of spirits that were eager to tell the stories of the past. I breathe deeply take one last look at my surroundings knowing Id never be the same one I stepped foot in this place… Comon sissies!! My brother, Tom, taunted as he sped ahead of my best friend Shane and I. Your not scared of little ol horror house are ya? In spite of his laughter, his voice cracked nervously. I could make out his white shirt in the moonlight as he turned off the gravel road. Peddling harder, we managed to catch up to him in the drive that led up to the dilapidated structure. As we closed in, I got a better look at the weathered exterior. Amongst the overgrowth of weeds, vines and fresh fallen leaves, I could see what was once a porch. Gray, sagging wood, tirelessly holding up the roof, saplings and more vines pushing through the floor and railings. Broken windows, overturned rusted chairs, steps that led up to the door missing treads and two or three old dolls lay in the bushes. An old car taken over by weeds and many seasons sat to the right of the house. Must have been some house back in the day! I stammered as I surveyed the second floor windows. Lets go in, Tom sneered, maybe we can get a glimpse of ol man Rodgers. They say he was the last to die here, didnt find him till weeks later after he died. I felt the shivers again....I had heard stories about Penuckle Rodgers, no of them good. The three of us pushed through the brush, up the stairs and to the door. With little effort, Tom was able to jar the door open... Shane was pale blue in the moonlight. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. We enter the foyer, the air heavy with wet mold and rot. My knees attempting to give way. Tom snicker, ha, there is nothing here but a old house! His laughter echoed through the dusty halls. He began taunting, come get me ol man Rodgers! It was stone quiet...until I looked up as something caught my eye. Red and orange lights dancing across the ceiling, bigger and brighter they f glowed ad they seemed to dial in on Tom. With sudden precision, they swooped in, Tom was thrown from his feet slamming into a wall. Shane and I screamed as we watched a cloud of dust explode when Tom hit the wall. Without waiting Shane and I flew out the front door leaving Tom to his own defenses......
Posted on: Fri, 08 Aug 2014 19:54:38 +0000
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