The HouseA Story by ewest1220 We look forward to hosting you soon...
The House By: Ethan West Dear, Mr. Johnson We are pleased to announce that you have won our "House Bid Giveaway." Your new house is on 914 Westwood Lane. If you have any questions please call me at 888-8492. We look forward to hosting you soon. Please play again. Yours Sincerely, John Cortille "We won a house!" Adam Johnson yelled as he jumped in the air with glee, shaking the letter in his hand. "I don't believe it, we WON!" As he sprinted down the rickety old stairs his dad snatched the letter and began to read. Adams dad was always the skeptic, he had lost many a job on a "get rich quick" scheme and this, well, it seemed to good to be true. "There is no way the man is giving this house away for free." Adams dad muttered softly. "Unless it's defective..." He fell into silence, looking at the letter for any signs of a hoax. Just after his dad's head disappeared behind the letter his mom entered the room. His mom and his dad were almost exactly alike. His father handed her the letter silently and her eyes darted back and forth and she read. However, after a period of silence, she seemed unable to find anything wrong with it and muttered silently "It just seems to good to be true." "What the hell are you complaining for?" Yelled a voice from the top of the stairs. "I say let's book this thing before the man gets his mind back." The voice came from his Uncle Charley. Or Great Uncle Charley to be correct. But to Adam he had always been just plain Uncle Charley. Uncle Charley was an old war veteran. He looked rather like a sailor who was a bit past his prime. Complete with comb-over and suspenders. He had lost his leg in the war and made many a joke about it. "All I got from the war was a purple heart, and I traded it for my leg." He would always tell Adam. "The lesson is if your going to get a purple heart, just shoot yourself in the foot and be done with it, heroics are for the dead." Adam himself had just turned 18 today. He wasn't truly 18 until 11:00 tonight. But as far as he himself cared, he was a man. He was an average boy, not to skinny, not to fat just an average boy. An average man. He looked at his father who was walking to the old phone at the foot of the stairs. "I think I'll call this John Cortille person to straighten a few things out," he said. "You'd better pack up or else you don't get to come along, got it?" Adam rushed upstairs to pack, the reason they were in such a hurry to leave was apparent. For the house they lived in was in the family possession ever since his now 28 times great grandfather acquired it in a poker game in 2010, and Adam was sure it hadn't had any repairs done on it since then. His family had always lived in poverty, they had never had a chance to start over. But maybe this was their chance, their time to shine. As he entered his room he looked at the destruction of the wall just opposite of his door. He suddenly realized that as overjoyed as he was to leave this old wreck, a part of his heart would always reside here. In the house his family had lived in for so many years, would forever be in his memory. Branded there unwillingly, but now such a part of his being that the forced branding was soothing, almost. He himself had destroyed that wall. He was leaning out his window to talk to his girlfriend at the time and the entire wall came lose from the rickety framing. Then with a shock of joy he remembered the time his Uncle had fallen through the roof, through two floors to the basement. And as the dust settled around his body he exclaimed "If I had my other leg I would be in a lot of pain right now." And with no more then that got up and continued to go about his business. As he continued to be bombarded with these memories of this old wreck he was about to leave forever. The hole in his heart grew and grew. Consuming him entirely. "Are you ready?" His father yelled up the stairs at him. "Cause we're leaving this dump." Adam hastily packed his things which, conveniently for him, fit easily inside a suitcase. He heard an almighty crash and a thud as the middle of the second floor crashed down to the first floor and the heavy thud of his Uncle hitting the floor echoed inside the house. Sure enough as he raced down the stairs, there was his Uncle with an expression of total shock and suppressed mirth vivid on his face. "Ha, It seems our little squirrel friend finally gnawed through our support wire it looks like he took most of our humble abode down with him." He pointed at the dead squirrel who had fallen with him and now lay dead at his feet. "A good man, we the people of this house will never forget you." He said as he took off his hat and mockingly placed it at his chest. As they left the house it began to rain. At first there was a small sprinkle, then the skies burst in a roaring cloud of hail and wind. But they persisted, "Wouldn't help to go back to the house," his Uncle yelled over the wind. "Damn squirrel destroyed it." They ducked their heads to protect from the barrage of hail that seemed intent on stopping them from reaching their destination. But nature's attempt to stop them was in vain as they walked up the path to the house and as Adam reached for the door handle. It opened. And the wind, which had just seconds ago been going at hurricane force, stopped. The Johnson's looked surprised for only a split second then the family rushed forward to claim their prize. As they entered the front door they realized that they were not alone. A man stood there silently waiting for the family to enter. "Why hello Mr. Cortille," said Adams dad levelly. Hello, said Mr. Cortille, I am glad you could be our host. "What do you mean "Host"?" said Uncle Charley as his hand slowly moved toward the old M29 laser pistol he kept in his jacket. "Well you see," said Mr. Cortille with a flat voice. "You now own this house, so technically you are the host and me just the man who entered without asking." Uncles Charley's hand relaxed, but only slightly. "You don't mind if we drip a little do you," Adams mom said, keen to change the topic. "You wouldn't believe the storm we were just in." "It's your house remember," said Mr. Cortille "do whatever you like." Mr. Cortille was a tall man, an odd man. He seemed to look plain... almost animated, and he seemed to flicker, like his very self was being realigned every time he moved. "So Mr. Cortille, why the hologram?" Uncle Charley said coolly. "Mr. Cortille is here," the hologram said in that same flat tone, "he's just in a different room, he should be here shortly." They explored the house with the hologram as their guide. But this house had an eerie feel to it as though unseen eyes were watching them. The hologram gestured towards the fireplace where a fire crackled warmly. "Please, sit down. Small talk is a new feature for holograms. We may have a mind of our own." Adam suddenly felt strange, was he making a statement? No, he was just a program and anyways the hologram's face remained blank as it had ever been. Nevertheless he wished he had his Uncle's laser right now. He settled into the chair, which was very soft and warm and he finally began to relax. "Have you heard about the newest revolution in technology?" The hologram said blankly. It's said that a special computer virus was created that has a mind of it's own. "Ya, frickin' conspiracy theorists screwing the world up with their virtual reality mumbo jumbo," his Uncle said angrily. "Well, the program exists my creator thinks." said the hologram. "Who was your creator?" Asked Adam. The hologram paused, then smiled as he faded away. His Uncle sensed the danger hanging thick in the air as he whipped out his pistol and aimed at the door. "Everybody move out of the way, were getting out of this hellhole!" and he squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened. The hologram appeared again, "the virus is my creator, and he has a special surprise in store for you tonight, but first lets meet Mr. Cortille." Suddenly Mr. Cortille fell from a previously unseen hole in the ceiling. His body cold and lifeless, but his eyes were strange, oh so strange. The pupils were seemingly full of TV static, cold and lifeless. "He was a complete failure," said the hologram. "My master was not able to perfect himself enough to infect him, his death was quite horrid to watch. Watching a computer lose it's free will to a virus is painful enough, picture it happening to a man." Suddenly Adam's family collapsed onto the floor at his feet, they had been stuck in the back by a needle shot out of the wall. He stared at the pile of bodies that was his family. But it was not despair that overwhelmed him, it was anger. "Why don't you stick me with one of those things? Huh? Why do you let me live?" Sobbing furiously he turned his Uncle's head around to look at him. His eyes were clouded with that same TV static as Mr. Cortille's had had but his Uncles face was tight with the pain of an unseen struggle and his body twitched violently. Angry tears filled Adam's eyes. The hologram smiled, "You will be tested of course, but you don't turn of age until 11:00 PM, until then your mind is completely immune to any attempts." Adam looked at the clock, 10:55... the clock was ticking... What a cruel twist of irony it was. When a countdown to Adam's birthday became a countdown for his death. When he and his loving family were destroyed by the very thing that they yearned for. And when a home became hell... Dear Mr. Smith We are pleased to announce that you have won our "House Bid Giveaway." Your new house is on 914 Westwood Lane. Yours Sincerely, Mr. Adam Johnson © 2012 ewest1220Author's Note
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27 Reviews  Last Updated on July 28, 2012 Tags: short stories, dark, reflective, horror Author
ewest1220Columbia Falls, MTAboutI have been writing for as long as I can remember. I have been featured in about 4 books, have won several contests for my work and currently have a paperback edition of my works. (Titled "A Winter Wa.. more..Writing
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