The Strange Old House - 1,166 words

[lemex]

The Strange Old House.

The day was slowly turning to night when the two friends first caught a glimpse of the strange old house. Although not of the local area and usually not given to sentimental impulses, the pair took to the mysterious and shabby abode almost immediately, and they approached it with the intent of asking the proprietor if they could lodge the night. They did not wish to be a nuisance, but had travelled far, and this was the only building they had seen for miles that was actually meant for human habitation, so they apprehensively approached it.

But when they walked up to the manor driveway they noted there was no car present, and the gate had been left wide open. This made the two men inquisitive, and they quickly rushed into the grounds to survey the tired old dwelling. The building itself stood alone amid a vast overgrowth of grass and shrubbery. One window was stained with red handprints. It was clearly painted, but it still made them nervous as they walked up and peered in though the dark and dusty windows. The rooms were in a terrible state, and had things lying all over the floor that now only hinted previous ownership. Everything looked very ill kept and shambolic; as if thieves had ransacked the house then simply left it alone, so the decades could take their own toll on the withered place.

It seemed to them that the house was empty, after investigating every window, the pair eventually tread up the few steps to the entrance, and pushed open the door. Many of the things left inside looked very old and very feeble, and the pair wondered how long they had been dormant; shocked at how such exquisite furnishings of impeccable craftsmanship where simply scattered haphazardly throughout the rooms.

Surly, things as old and rare as these would find no problem finding money should the owner wish to sell them? So then, why did he leave this place in such an obviously quick fashion? The two friends both wondered about this as they walked inside, though neither of them spoke. Everything within the strange old house was of a previous age, and the intrepid pair's earlier plans of removing some of the more exquisite looking furnishings disappeared fearing the said items would simply fall apart on the outside, totally unaccustomed to sunlight after having spent so long under the safe, watchful eye of the strange old house and her ancient, crumbling walls.

Ancient indeed, for the dust was thick, and had collected in every little crack and crevice. Nevertheless, with such superb antiques sitting idle it seamed very odd that someone could leave. No doubt, one of them suspected, the owner had fallen victim to some awful tragedy or illness that forced him to flee his otherwise lovely home so quickly. But the other, an admitted mystery story fanatic, disagreed, suspecting that very soon they would stumble across the neatly stacked corpses, or skeletons of the previous inhabitants. This idea was supported by the discovery of an unknown slogan that they found painted on the mirror in the guestroom: R NOR-COTOTA! but what this actually meant, nether could say or guess.

But the strange old house seemed, despite her shaggy, rundown appearance, to still be habitable. A place the pair could spend the night protected from the elements. They needed to find a place of rest soon, as darkness was closing fast. So the wondering pair decided upon the downstairs dining room as a place to set down bedding and reside for the night. They simply did not trust the creaky old stairs that led up to the higher floors. Also, sleeping downstairs was to add to that sense of adventure the two men had became so inured to after many days travel.

After a brief exploration of the house they set up a makeshift campsite in the downstairs room and settled in for the night. After a supper of baked-beans, the men wriggled deeper into the sleeping bags and got comfortable. But as so often with young men at such times, they delighted themselves in the art of spooking the other with ghostly tales and stories of horror before resigning to sleep. The darkness of night was finally covering the sky and the pair needed torches with which to see.

That night, they devised a plan, to steal a large number of the collectibles from the house, and hold them in their rucksacks, until later on, when they could sell the items for an appropriate price. They know that many of the older and larger items would perhaps be too delicate for transportation in simple backpacks. But this did not detour the two old friends from their goal and they managed to secure places for the smaller, but still valuable, bits of jewellery and decorative items from the living rooms, kitchen, guestrooms and even the upstairs bedrooms – when they eventually summoned the courage to ascend those old and rotting stairs.

They managed to collect a large number of venerable and fragile items from all over the house. They inspected the items in their campsite in the dinning room on the first floor, it included a large number of plates and silverware, necklaces and rings made of gold and a large number of other valuables. Between them both, the two friends surmised that they could make a great sum of money from these things. And so they went to sleep with comfortable smiles.

But something happened in the black of night that only the crumbling walls of the rotting old house knows of. Something so chilling they were two friends were found a week later at a nearby ford horribly damaged and mutilated, and their heads where retrieved from the water, apparently washed down stream by the force of the moving estuary. Only the denizens of the tiny local town heard the story of the two unknown gentlemen and their ill fated venture into that ancient abode. A local man was arrested for the murders, though insufficient evidence was accumulated and the man was released without charge. He later moved far away from the tiny town and over the following years the case was mostly forgotten about.

Some say the souls of the two gentlemen still haunt the place, and this keeps away most locals who would steal up to the house to investigate. Some also say that the items they supposedly wished to take from the house found their way back to their original locations independent of any human contact. But nothing about that terrible night was ever found and over time the locals shunned the derelict building, and only the unsuspecting traveller by happenstance may wander in to investigate; just like the two unfortunate gentlemen on that night from oh so long ago.

Shunned as an evil and retched thing, the strange old house was once again abandoned.

The End.

(Note: This site restricts the use of the Cyrillic alphabet, so I've had to improvise. The phrase: 'R NOR-COTOTA!' translates into English from Russian as 'I am Yog-Sothoth!')