Your Time Will Come

This is the story of the horror that was bestowed upon Audrey and Damian Woodhouse that would terrify even the bravest of souls.

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May, 1977

It was a normal day, just like any other, the sun had shone that day, bright and warm. I had the day off from work, so I had spent it in the park, writing in my journal and reading the newest book by Stephen King, The Shining. Oh how I used to love those books, he really knew how to scare someone with just ink written into dead trees. When I was still a little girl, around ten to twelve, I would read horror stories and get scared and have to sleep in the bedroom with mama and papa. Not the best idea I'll have to say, but I loved them.

I used to love getting scared, the racing of your heart, the cold sweat on your forehead, the wanting to hide under the covers, rushing to your bed after turning on the light. But I never really knew what being scared really meant. Not really. I wasn't even close to real terror, I had barely scratched the surface.

The sun was starting to set behind the mountain and I decided it was time to head home. I picked up my book and stuffed my journal back into my bag.The wind wept my thick brown hair behind me, it flowed in waves, oh how beautiful it used to be and how my blue eyes used to sparkle. 

I pulled into the driveway of my new home, my new husband and I had gotten it only a few weeks before, it couldn't have been more than three. I noticed to my surprise that my husband was already home. I smiled and got out excitedly, happy to see him sooner than I thought.

I unlocked the door and walked into the house, despite just buying it the house was already very old, at least eighty years old. It creaked here and there, but we payed no attention. The old flooring was made of beautiful chestnut and the walls were painted burgundy. I can even remember the smell, it always smelt of cinnamon and smoke. I inhaled the lovely scent to realize a new one had been added to it, the smell of fresh baked brownies. I smiled to myself again.

"Damian, are you home?" I called through the house. 

"In the kitchen, dear!" I heard from my left. I walked through the kitchen door and laughed aloud. My dear husband had chocolate covering his face, a bowl in his hand, steering the contents. 

"What have you done?!" I exclaimed jokingly and grabbed a napkin to start wiping off his face.

"I made you brownies before you got home." He grinned.

My husband, Damian Woodhouse, had jet black hair and bright green eyes that you could just get lost in. He was the sweetest man you would ever meet, he didn't care that it was considered a "woman's job" to clean and cook, a lot of times after a long day at work, I would come home to find supper already made or the living room already sparkling clean. He always bore a smile and never said an ill word. HIs laugh made the whole room light up and his embrace always made me feel safe. He didn't come from a rich family, well neither did I, but he always wanted the best for me, for us. I had known him for five years before we got married. I loved him, I loved him so so much.

"You're too sweet for your own good." I laughed and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "So, what did that exterminator say?" 

"Well," Damian sighed. "he said it would cost about fifty bucks."

I sighed as well. "We will think of something. I just hate hearing the scratching in the walls at night, and by the sound of it, it's got to be something big."

"So do I."

Ever since we had gotten this house, I have had an uneasy feeling. It was beautiful, but it always felt... strange. The loud scratching in the walls, the terrifying feeling that I was being watched, banging in the attic, and sometimes I could hear what sounded like whispering. I didn't want to admit it at the time, but here and now, I know that's what I had heard. 

I started cooking and got finished with our dinner right as it started to get dark. I remember that meal just like it was yesterday. I had made some steak, mashed potatoes, macaroni, sweet tea, and green beans. It was simple, but Damian's favorite. I was in the middle of talking about an important article that I was writing when there's huge bang upstairs, stopping me cold. Damian swallowed and gave me a curious look which I returned.

"Stay there, Audrey." Damian said. He grabbed a crowbar from beside the fireplace and began creeping upstairs, leaving me frozen at the dinner table. We did have an upstairs porch that had steps leading to the ground, so someone could technically break in that way. I guess that was what was going through his mind at the time. 

He had came back a few minutes later. He looked at me and shrugged when there was another loud bang, and another, and another. It sounded as if someone was walking around up there hitting metal against metal. This is when I ran into his arms, scared out of my mind. 

"I want to leave." I had told him firmly.

"Maybe it's just the wind." He tried to reassure me.

"I don't care, let's leave, please." I begged. He nodded and we started towards the door. We opened it only to have it slammed shut again, causing me to jump back and scream. Damian, now scared, tried to undo it, but it was locked tight. He said that the other door upstairs, which is the only other door out, had been locked too even though we never locked that door.

"What the hell..." He kicked at the door, but it did not budge. 

"Come on, let's go out the kitchen window." I suggested hastily, he nodded in agreement and we went back into the kitchen.

I let him let go of me to try and undo the locked window, which is a mistake I've regretted my entire life. There was an ungodly screech and the next thing I knew my husband was being dragged by the feet through the kitchen and into the basement, the door slamming behind him. I screamed and tried to open the basement door, but the damn thing wouldn't budge. I pulled and pulled until eventually I pulled the door knob off the door, and yet it still wouldn't open.

I bent down to try and look through the hole where the door knob used to be, but was unable to see a thing in the dark. I scrambled up and grabbed a flashlight out of one of the kitchen cabinets. I shined it through the doorknob and almost had a heart attack when I see Damian standing there, full body just visible. But, it didn't look like Damian, it was him, it was his body, but the way he was standing and the expression on his face was horrifying, even though it was his face. I felt like I was staring at the thing I had the feeling was watching me so many times before. He just stood there, completely still for a few seconds, I didn't even have the courage to speak, to call out his name. I'm about to move when something happens that took me years to comprehend. It looked like his mouth unhinged and that ungodly scream erupted from it again as it hurdled itself at the door. But the strange thing is, there was no thump against the door, just silence, complete silence. Honestly, I would've rather heard the banging again instead of the silence.

I backed up until I hit the window where I turned around and started to try and unlock the window to avail. I then tried to break it with my foot, but that didn't work either. I turned around to get a chair, only to see my husband. He stood about seven feet away, just standing there, staring at me. I could feel my heartbeat rise in my chest and my throat clench shut. This time I couldn't even scream. I couldn't move. I couldn't do anything. I was petrified.

His eyes were completely white and were oozing crimson blood, just like his hairline, mouth and ears. His head seemed to be like a movie screen or hologram, spritzing in and out, twisting and turning at unholy angles. At that moment I knew my husband was gone forever.

The power then went out for about a second, and the thing had moved to about three feet in front of me. A single tear leaked from my eye, because right then I knew I was going to die, or at least so I thought. It unhinges it's mouth to speak, two voices overlapping, one my husbands, the other sounded like it came from the pits of hell, deep and raspy, growling.

"I will come for you when your time comes." Is all it said, smiling creepily before the lights exploded and the window busted. Only then was I able to move, to scream, to cry. I ran out of that house so fast I tripped at least three times getting to my car. You think it would be raining, thundering, and lightning outside, but it was a perfect, moonlit, summer night. I fumbled with the keys until I finally got my car cranked and drove, I drove for so long I lost count, I know it must've been at least 500 miles straight with no stops until I made it to my sisters house. After I told her what happened and she didn't believe me I drove even farther, all the way across the country to California. 

I didn't try to tell my story because I knew that they would only lock me up, call me insane, but I know what I saw, and I would never be convinced otherwise.

May, 2007

I close my journal and set down my reading glasses. I had written the incident down in my journal as soon as I could and I read it at least once a week so I will never forget. No matter what they say, I will know the truth.

They never found Damian. That was the last time I ever saw him. They say that he may have been kidnapped, ran away because of insanity, some even say that I killed him, but what proof do they have? None. So I was never convicted. I never remarried and always stayed very distant. Didn't trust people too much for years after it happened and I don't have very many friends.

I'm old now, living in my California home, 2000 miles away from where the incident happened in the woods of North Carolina. I never sold the house, just in case that thing was still in there, waiting for it's next victim, the next innocent couple. I did write a book based off of it and got semi famous, but I labeled it as fiction of course.

I shift in my wheel chair as I see my maid walk past my door. I call for her.

"Yes, Mrs. Woodhouse?" She asks politely.

"Would you mind getting me a glass of water dear?" She nods and heads in the direction of the kitchen down the hall. I turn my wheelchair back around to the window, watching the cars speed past my house underneath the summer moonlight. Lot's has changed since I was young, that's for sure.

Suddenly, I hear the most terrifying thing I could ever hear, the deep growling voice from hell that has haunted my nightmares for all these years, overlapping my sweet, innocent maids.

"Your time has come." 

Despite my fear I turn around to see, not my maid, but merely her shell, white eyes and blood dripping from the ears, mouth, eyes, nose and hairline. The last thing I see and hear before darkness is the unhinging of her ruby lips and the ungodly screech.

Audrey Woodhouse and her maid, Annabell Young, were never found.

Author's Note

This is an entry for a contest, hope you enjoy! I even got scared writing it.

Reviews

[JC]

love this horror piece, would have been great to read late at night during a thunder storm just after playing with the Ouija! could be start of a screenplay maybe... thanks for making the hairs on my neck stand at end!

[Zakari Schmidt]

This was a such a well written horror story, I love how you referenced the Shining in 77. Reminds me of a mix between mr king and paranormal activity, only your descriptions and vivid imagery obscure something found in a movie. And that's what made your work stand out to me. I'm very impressed.

I'm sure this will take 1st

[Rob Santana]

Hey this is good. I like how you jump years and the horrors never really went away. It started off a bit slow but it kept my attention wanting to know what was going to happen. Good job Christen.