Chapter 2 ~The Bloodthirsty House~

"Mom! My cellphone isn't working!" Emily yelled. Mom turned around and took her cellphone. "Hmmm, your right, it isn't working." Mom continued to mess with the cellphone as I said, "We are deep in a forest, far away from, civilization. I don't think cellphones are going to work out here." I said. "The spirits here would also disrupt electronics, too. I wounder why this place is so dark, so filled with pain and misery?" No one paid any attention to what I said. "Well, were almost there, maybe they have a phone you can use." Mom said. I stared out the window, dreading what will happen. Something will, this was a play, and we are the puppets. Something always happens, and rarely is it a good thing. This play was not a rare one, filled with hope and knowing, but pain and mystery.
What seemed like hours, mom said, "Here we are! Oh, it's so cute!" The road finally opened a bit, cutting through the dense woods, and there in the middle of the tiny clearing was a house. I shivered, the house wasn't normal. It had a long history, a dark past that still clung to it. The house also seemed small, but big, reminding me of a dollhouse. It tried to make the impression of a big house, like your looking at it far away, but it's like it shrunk. It was like someone was playing house. "The stage is set," I whispered. I also noticed there were no cars, or bikes, or any form of transportation. "How would they be able to get supplies? They couldn't walk all the way to the city, and walk back carrying all the cuplies they would need, could they? That's odd, the only tracks in the dirt are the tires from our car. No foot prints...blown away by wind or-" My thought were interrupted by dad, who screamed, "Emma, come on!" They were already at the door, knocking. I sighed, and forced myself to join them. "Hello! It's us!" Mom yelled, pounding on the door. The door creaked open, and standing there was a thin woman with pale skin and dark bags under her eyes. I almost didn't recognized her. She was my aunt, my dear aunt who came here only last year.

"Hello Josh." Aunt said, her voice sounded so soft. Her eyes stared straight ahead, seeing everything, but showing nothing. "Aunty..." I whispered. Her gaze flickered to me, and for a brief second her face showed pure relief...and sadness. "Come inside, my friend will meet you shortly." Aunt said. We walked inside to a small square room, the entryway, which was bigger then I thought it would be. There was a staircase in front of us, one door on the left wall. A long door was on right wall, which I assumed was a closet. "Come here through this door, it leads to the living room." Said Aunt, opening the door for us. We walked into the living room, my parents awing at the new scenery, my sister grumbling about her cellphone not working. I shivered, this house held many secrets. Pain and suffering, mourning ghosts that couldn't leave, anger, blood, murder, revenge, betrayal. Thousands of whispers of souls who could rest, who will never rest, but they all stayed hidden. Their part in the play comes later, someone was controlling them. "The directer controlling the the actors, act one is setting the stage, setting the characters, starting the story. For now they'll stay hidden, but they will show, and when they do someone is going to get hurt. They are angry, in pain, and they won't sit around quietly for long."
"How have you been?" Asked dad, either not noticing the horrible changes in his sister, or ignoring it. "Fine....just...fine." Aunt whispered. "Is there a phone here, Aunt Martha?" Asked Emily. Aunt Martha acted like she didn't hear her. "No, we don't" A soft voice said behind her. Emily shrieked, and jumped away from a thine and pale women. Her brown hair was really fizzy, as if she never washed it, and seemed to be falling out. Her eyes were wide, with dark circles under them, like she hasn't been sleeping well. She stared at everything, confused like she wasn't sure what to do. I seen that look before, it was the look of someone who was possessed. I seen very few people who have been possessed, but it's easy to tell who has. People will act strange, or differnt, and will be able to do things that they were not able to do before when they become possessed. Like jumping higher, running faster, talker louder or softer, and are stronger. This is because the spirit has the control over the body and can use it more efficiently then the humans. When the spirit leaves, the host becomes confused and struggles to do things, like walking and talking becuase they been detached from the controls of their body. The women in the doorway looked like she has been possessed many times, and rarely gets the chance to be in control over her body. "There is no...phone here....nothing like that.....works....here." The women said, struggling to get the words right. Mom took a hesitant step closer to her and asked, "Are you Martha's friend?" The women stared at her, her eyes unfocused and confused. Aunt Martha spoke for her, "Yes, she is my friend, Amanda. Her husband is Mathew, they've been here for about two years now." "Two years? So when Aunt and Uncle came Amanda and Mathew have been here for a year. Now Aunt and uncle have been here for a year, and now we are here. A pattern?"
"Please...follow me...to your rooms." Said Amanda. Mom and dad glanced at each other, sharing worried expressions. They didn't like Amanda, but I couldn't blame them. We followed Amanda to the hall, then up the stairs. {i]"Spirits! They're everywhere! In the walls, the floors, why are there so many of them?" My heart raced, I never been around to many spirits, their energy was overwhelming. But they tried to hid from me, waiting, waiting for what? "Here." Said Amanda, pointing to a black door. I opened the door and she pushed me inside. I was about to turn around to glare at her, but she slammed the door, and locked it.

The room was scary. I haven't been so scared since I was little and couldn't defend myself against the pain I felt and saw. But this was simply terrible. To a normal person, the room is clean and pretty. With pale blue walls, dark wood floors, a big glass widow on the wall, and queen size bed with white sheets and pillows, and a oak dresser with a four foot mirror. But there was another image. Another picture, the true picture. The pretty picture of the clean room was fake, but I could still glimpse the horrible disaster of the true room. Blood was smeared everywhere. The window was cracked, broken, smeared with brown and red, and somebody scratched 'help' onto the top right corner. The mirror looked very much the window, but their were words that I couldn't make out smeared in blood on it. the bed was torn, broken, old, and dirty. The floor was broken, and dirty with blood, dirt, and who knows what. the original paint was gone on the walls. I was scared. something horrible happened here. And something horrible will happen again.