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It was then that something, or rather the lack of something, caught Eve’s attention. There was no vehicle. Nothing by the old crooked shed at the edge of the woods. Nothing by the alcove where the frosted lawn met the gravel. She looked down the long winding driveway. Nothing. This was more than a little strange, especially considering the cold and the fact that they were in the middle of nowhere. A bizarre image flashed through her mind: the family, hand in hand, wandering out of the darkening trees.
Of course, a well-adjusted individual would’ve simply told him no. But self-destructive people-pleasing was another of Eve’s plentiful idiosyncrasies.
She was so familiar with it, the voice of “whatever can go wrong, will go wrong,” that she’d even given it a face and a name: Mo.
But more than any physical markers, she could sense it behind his eyes. A weary burden of hidden knowledge that only came with age. The kind of eyes that had seen one too many caskets lowered into the dirt.
Charlie once said: “Don’t understand something? Witchcraft.”
Apparently, there had been a fire down at city hall decades before. Almost everything about the house, from its origin to its chain of ownership, was a mystery. “Clouded title” was the bank’s term for it.
An odd symbol had been carved there. A circle, divided by intersecting lines of varying lengths, all meeting in the middle. It looked cryptic, like some kind of ancient glyph.
It’s the mark of a death cult, Mo, the cymbal monkey, chimed in. This family is part of a demonic death cult and they’re coming back here to finish some kind of ritual
“That window.” Thomas pointed at the stained glass. “I… I don’t remember it being in this room.” He scratched his temple. “I thought it was at the front of the house.” After a silent moment, he added, “Funny… how memories can change like that.”
The nameless terror. Always lurking just out of sight, silent and faceless and so horrific it couldn’t even be described. No matter what basement, what house, it was always that same feeling. As if this unspeakable terror could divide and multiply itself throughout all the basements of the world.
“Thanks for letting us take a look around,” he said. “It really meant a lot to my family.” Aside from Jenny, it didn’t look like it meant anything to anyone, but Eve kept that to herself.
“I know you’ve just moved in, but”—he paused for a moment, reluctant, embarrassed—“have you ever noticed anything—” A commotion interrupted him.
No response. He just stood there, unmoving. Somehow, he looked stiller than the hallway itself… was he even breathing?
Sure, no single thing was big enough to warrant extreme concern, but everything together—everything adding up,
She pulled out her phone and… the screen was cracked. A jagged line that started in the bottom right corner and veered up to the left. When had that happened?
Charlie often assumed the best in people. She was hospitable and trusting, but not out of obligation or naivety—rather, she gave people the benefit of the doubt, and if anyone was dumb enough to break her trust, watch out.
Eve sensed a great deal of suppressed anger simmering beneath Paige’s surface. A tick-tick-ticking time bomb.
Deep down, Eve was beginning to worry that, one by one, this family might start vanishing into the cellar.
Eve noticed the faint remnant of a penny-sized tattoo on Paige’s neck, just below her left ear. It was a simple black circle, a thin line, but it was blurred, mostly faded. Laser removed, she assumed. Some distant, unthinking part of her mind connected it to the cryptic symbol on the banister.
Technically, Eve had stopped believing at seventeen years old, but her faith limped on well into her twenties, like staying in an obviously doomed marriage because, hey, maybe things will turn around eventually.
He cleared his throat, let a moment of thoughtful silence pass, and then, “Good food. Good meat. Good God, let’s eat.” The boys chuckled.
LMAO classy
Even when the event was completely out of her control, even when the other party was blatantly overstepping her bounds, she always found a way to blame herself. Always felt this nagging sense of guilt for everything, as if her very existence was a violation of some stone-etched decree.
Eve caught a glimpse of her hands, red marks on her palms, probably from pulling on the dumbwaiter rope.
But then, he made the mistake of telling the story in front of Charlie Bastion. At the crescendo, right on cue, he pulled out the photo and held it up for all to see. Charlie, barely looking up from her meal, said, “That’s a great horned owl.”
LOL
she could see his face was red, streaked with tears. His hands were clenched over his mouth, as if trying to keep unspeakable horrors from writhing out. And his eyes, bloodshot, wide, were filled with terror. The kind of dread that spread like fire. Contagion.
“Alison believed something in the house, or the house itself, was toying with her. Altering her reality, bit by bit. And
“Her core memories began to change. People she’d known all her life became strangers, and strangers became… familiar.”
Suddenly, as if in reaction to Eve’s realization, the figure rose up to standing. It wasn’t child-sized after all—it had only been hunched down. It rose to its full height—over six feet tall. Slender. Gaunt.
Eve shoved it down into a container of repressed anxieties. A mental cabinet that stowed away all her worst paranoias.
Sometimes the rivets would burst and every single one of her deepest, darkest fears would spew out and rain down all over her psyche.
“Charlie?” He flipped an egg. “She said she had an urgent meeting? Thought she would’ve let you know…” Eve furrowed her brow. It wasn’t like Charlie to leave without checking in first. Especially considering the odd family being here.
“If there’s an emergency, then it’s part of God’s plan.” “Of course,” said Eve. “The power of prayer.”
it was Charlie’s locket, hanging limply from one of the nails Eve had removed last night. Somehow, there was a sinister mockery in the sight. A marker that something terrible might have happened to Charlie, and this was the only thing left of her…
I’ve been looking for this exact same thing! I asked my siblings about it and they said it never existed!! Creepy. It’s like a Mandela effect or something.
More and more, she had this feeling that something was seriously wrong with them, that maybe they were in league with that figure on the stairs.
The dog gave her a brief glance. I understand what you are saying, but I do not care.
haha that's a cat everyday
Never before had she seen the dog so comfortable around a stranger. In any other situation, Shylo’s trust might have been comforting. But with everything else going on, it only raised more alarm bells.
Suppressed, inward-facing rage. Yet another inevitable side effect of her constant people-pleasing.
his kid ended up hiding in the basement. Then the storm.” “Hiding in the basement,” Heather mused. “Thomas used to do the same thing.” Sudden confusion clouded her face. “I just wonder why they didn’t come by here—I would have been more than happy to have them spend the night.” Good question.
“Fire’s a myth. The records were stolen.” “Oh…?” “Back in the early fifties,” Heather continued. “Some nut broke into town hall. Pilfered most of the paperwork for Yale and Kettle Creek Mountain.
“I hope his sister ended up getting the help she needed.” Heather looked at her, puzzled. “Sister?” “Yeah, his, uh, older sister?” Heather shook her head. “Thomas was an only child.”
they never officially brought her into the family…” She trailed off, then added, “I mean, maybe they had been considering it, but after the incident with her and Thomas, they—” She went quiet, as if she might’ve said too much. Eve nudged. “Incident?” “No, I shouldn’t, I…” Heather swatted the air, a nervous gesture.
“Alison—she started to believe there was only one way to make it stop, to get her supposed old life back, and… One winter night, Thomas, eight years old, awoke to find her standing at his bedside, clutching a fountain pen…” Heather leaned back, her face a grim mask. “She stabbed him thirty-seven times in less than a minute.
when she turned back, Mo was gone. His seat empty. Belt still buckled. The image didn’t quite register.
Eve started over, but as she stepped into the hall, she froze. Something was off. Something had changed… It took her a second, but one of the doors was open now. Down at the end, just before the corner, a white door was cracked. A thin slit of shadow. The kind of dark that suggested a watcher on the other side. A watcher with heinous intent.
The meandering footprints led her deeper and deeper through the pines. Branches clawed at her skin. Brambles snagged her clothes, snapping and breaking as she came upon a sloped clearing and… the tracks simply ended. Hard stop. As if the person she’d been chasing had ceased to exist.
the side of his face was scarred with a terrible gash. Long healed, it started at the corner of his mouth and led up his cheek, nearly reaching his earlobe.
“The family…” he said. “That’s not what they look like.” Eve shook her head. “I— I don’t understand…” “You need to be careful,” he added. “Get them to leave. Whatever means necessary…”
