647 Blood Ave: A Short Story

When you wonder at night the door will shriek across the moldy floor. The shutters will open and close, and open and close. OPEN HOUSE, there is a new house on the market. One that has lots of character. One with exterior that is crinkling and washing away. With blood of the last calling your name. The front porch is caved in like someone was murdered just before coming in. The lawn not mowed. When you get to the rough and cracked concrete you would enter but you can’t the black shadow that passed the door faster than i light. the blood marks on the rails down to the deck and on to the door handle. Now it's your turn, when the deep wail of the wind carried with dirt gets in your eye now you start to cry. this is not a place for children no no sir this is for all those who don't believe

And all of a sudden we hear the high winds screeching creepily from outside our house, the branches were loudly scratching and scraping against the house loudly. As I looked around I got more and more freaked out. There were boxes everywhere creating shadows from our flashlight and creating darkness that the flashlight couldn't fill. My entire family was scared, as scared as a chipmunk would be if a lion was in it’s tree. My Dad was searching for something in a sea of darkness, my mom trying to comfort my now crying siblings with a horrifying worried look on her face and me thinking to myself, When will it be done, what damage will it do and Oh No. As I thought I heard something crack from outside of my house, and then

What was once a beautiful but small lawn with grass is now a patch of dead grass with dirt exposing itself under the grass. What was once the creaky barn doors are completely destroyed, with broken glass on the ground on the outside, leading to the inside. What was once the living room where I had spent so much time watching television and playing games with my siblings, now has its carpet completely torn up, walls indented, and closet in complete shambles with light gleaming sharply through the holes of the closet from holes that were made by vandals who never knew the true value of the humble abode that I used to reside in. My old home, since being lived in by me and my family has since been abandoned by the family that we had entrusted the house to previously. Now the house just stays there, an eerie empty shell of what it used to be. A place where I was safe and happy, now a dark and scary place that no one deserves to live in, a place that humans have indeed used well, so well that there is nothing left of what it used to be. That image of the house was the last I saw it, back in 2010, It is possible now that the house had since been destroyed, with the memories that have been carved into the walls, fireplace, windows, closets, and bedrooms, are now nothing more but a blur of destroyed objects that will one day be removed, as people pass by the home that once was will never be able to see its clarity, but instead will only be able to see the blur of colors protruding from the exterior of the house, or perhaps the brown of the barn like doors, or the patches of green still rising from the dead grass that surrounds it, until eventually, it simply disappears completely invisible to the city that used it ever so

reader feel a sense of dread and despair because unlike the house the reader knows the owners

Carole and I were fleeing with urgency down the steep driveway, arms and legs pumping with fear. Which way to go? Down the reedy river path with potential snakes and the risk of being seen or the creepy drainage ditch? Looking back toward the house with rapid fire beats in our hearts, fear drove us forward. We searched to see how far ahead we were. Not far. Not as far as we needed to be, but he hadn’t appeared yet. The only logical way was through the rusty damp and dark pipes so we wouldn’t be seen. Our noses wrinkled with the disgust upon entry, filling our nostrils with a strong smell of mold and crud collected from storms.

I unlock the metal gate and climb onto the front patio. Before me stands a two-story house with newly-refurbished windows and a fresh coat of white paint. I admire the house’s beauty as I stroll past it. I walk through a crowded path of mohintli, white laelia, tithonia, and dahlias that seem to guide me to the real reason I am at this address. After moving the branches of some avocado trees out of the way, I finally find the treasure I am seeking: a small rose-colored house with just two windows and two rooms. With the key my father gave me, I open the doors to enter the rooms. The light switch does not work, so only shadows are present in the room. Giant cracks graze the walls like the markings of a lion. On the ceiling, an intricate flower design shines proudly with the rest of the room, slowly losing its will to decay. Only broken furniture stands in the corners of the room, ashamed to be present in front of a girl from the North. After taking a deep breath to calm my emotions, I lock the door, look to the sky, and walk back to the house I am staying at with my

But I have to focus. I grab my bag and hurry out the door. In 20 minutes I arrive at an abandoned warehouse near the north border of the city. It was old and gave off creepy vibes like a horror movie setting. On an arch above the side entrance I could just barely make out the word ‘Freidhof’. I walk in cautiously but I knew there’d be no one there.

On one of those nights, when I drifted off into a nightmare, I found myself alone in a silent town that looked to be abandoned. The walls of the buildings, as well as the sidewalks had writing on them. Words such as "Mr. Piggyton" and "Play!" were drawn on with chalk. There were also random names written as well. The most troubling was the large drawing of Mr. Piggyton that was drawn on the walls of an abandoned candy store. Below that, "Let's all have some fun!" was written.

After two long hours of traveling with nothing to look at but the passing trees, we finally arrived at the farm. As we piled out of the car, I looked at the dirt road we came in on and turned to the house. It was one story and had a red tin roof, surrounded by a large grassy field and then woods beyond that. Twirling around, I walked into the house and plopped onto the closes bed. As everyone else unpacked, I locked myself in the room like a petulant child.

Dread and sorrow wash throughout me. We spent so long in this cursed building to prevent us from ending up like we did. I furrow my brows. The foul smell of rotting old wood came upon my senses. Now, I could only taste dryness in my throat. This attic has still not changed one bit.

“I want to find out what’s up there.” As she drove to the tallest peak surrounding the town, she looked at the white fluffy clouds covering portions of the mountaintop before noticing the two-story house in the field and stopped. Looking at the tiles missing, the loose boards hanging from the roof, and the weeping willows with their long limbs wrapped around the house and the vines covering portions of the house gave it a true, ghost story façade.

John pulled up to the rocky crooked edged driveway, he left his family in the car to check the house out. He came to an old brick mansion with green dull vines like sinister snakes along the sides of the outside wall. John saw the door open automatically, his bones were rattling in his body as if they were shouting to each other. He walked up the stairs that lead in the house as they screamed to him, it was like a girl dyeing painfully. He stepped in the house cautiously. A laugh appeared in the hallway. It was a deep laugh as if it was echoing throughout your ears. Footsteps came towards him slowly. They were moving so quickly you could barely here the floorboards creaking. The sound of the footsteps hauling though the house made john scared.

There is an old brown house across the street from mines it is brown, rickety, dilapidated that will fall to pieces with a simple touch of the pinky. Cow webs decorate the house and the windows have been shattered. Some people would say witches, old people, and even fallen celebrities live in that run down house. But no one suspects Old Ranger Joe. Old Ranger Joe a mysterious, quiet man in his mid 50’s. He has blue eyes fill with rage and envy; his hard hardy hands could crush a bone with one simple squeeze. His silky golden hair runs with the wind and he has a fairly white complexion. Every night he goes into that house and doesn’t come out until everyone has gone to their work or school. As you walk into the house you are greeted with rats

Are you looking for that beastly house that just jumps right out at you? If so prowl on down here to the corner of 13th Street and Devil Road. Just the exterior of the house will be sure to rattle your bones. The rows of the shambles of barren trees on either side of the road, that lead up to your impending doom that lurks within the caverns of the fractured house that will  surely collapse at any given moment. The mangled arms of the barren trees  you grab you by the neck, they will doubtlessly leave you hanging. If that isn't enough to put you in a gruesome mood just take a look at the dismantled remains of the old rose bushes. They line the morbid fence, which surrounds the house keeping those naive children, that had no soul, away from

Have you been looking for that house that will give you that bilious feeling you've been looking for? Well, that gravestones blotted in blood att 8989 Hanging Hill Lane will give you that feeling. The wicked dead trees can attract the most vicious criminals in the world along with the evilest witches and their brooms to keep you company. Need a place to connect with the disembodied dead after a long day of scaring? Well, the broken down bridge is a good place that can cause a dramatic scene. The graveyard is the perfect place where you can exhume the gaunt dead monsters that roamed the treacherous land millions of years ago. With no air conditioning, the house is sure to get nice and hot which is the perfect condition for raising your heinous