Haunted House

This house is very unique in many ways, not just the spooky ones. It has a weird history too as it was built by someone that I would call a weirdo. But the part that stands out the most to me is that the house has a lot of land attached, so the neighbors aren't that close. It makes this house stand out from the others, as their yards are normal sized yards you would see in any subdivision, while mine is three times as long, which sucks when you have to pay to get it mowed.

My house is the only one at the end of the street because of the huge yard. I remember thinking how it sort of looked like something you would see in a movie when I first drove up here. A lone house at the end, telling you that's where the monster lives. Or that there's going to be a murder mystery inside.

My eyes narrow as I spot something on a neighbor's yard. As it is rather late and it's pretty dark outside, I'm not sure I'm really seeing it, so I lean closer to the window. I spot the oddity, then blink several times to make sure I am really seeing it, and it's not a trick of some sort. Sure enough, after blinking repeatedly, it's still there.

"Who or what the hell is that?" I ask out loud, as if someone is going to answer me. Four houses down, on the curb, there's a man staring up at me. He's dressed all in black and just stands there, still as can be, staring up at me. There's no doubt he's looking at me either because I can feel it.

Looking at him, I'm not sure what I'm to do. Do I try and call the police? Would they even come out? Telling them there's a creepy guy on my street doesn't sound like something they would drop everything to investigate. I guess it doesn't matter as my cell isn't working. But, holy hell that guy looks creepy. Looks like what you think a gross rapist would look like.

"Oh... shit," I curse under my breath when I see another guy. This one is across the street and one house down. He too is on the curb, wearing all black and is staring at me. Seeing him makes my already hard beating heart pound much harder.

That too familiar feeling of terror washes over me yet again. The feeling that feels like a bucket of ice cold water is dumped on top of your head. Where your heart seems to beat in your heart and not your chest. Where you feel that you are seconds away from dying.

You see... I think it's the same guy. Or that they are twins. They look identical. I know I'm pretty far away, but I can just tell it's the same guy. Or something using the same body.

I groan as I spot yet another guy. He's on my next door neighbor's yard. He's just like the other two, dressed in black and staring at me. Only with him, I can really see the white of his eyes, even in the darkness of evening.

Panicking, I step backward from the window, wishing I hadn't had the light on. They clearly see me. They know I'm home. And I don't know what they are about to do.

I'm not sure what gives me the strength, but my body seems to come to life from the paralysis I was in. With this new power, I turn and rush to my cell phone. Grabbing it, I rush back to the window. In my spilt second thinking, I decide I need to go back to the window because it's better to know where they are than to hide and not know.

I press down hard on the power button on my cell, hoping and praying it comes back to life. As I do this, I try to think what I'm going to tell the police. That a cult is stalking my home? That strange men dressed in the same exact thing are intimidating me? That I'm scared they are about to rush in and do something? Hell, I know exactly what they are going to do: rape me; gangbang me; run a train until I can't even walk.

Looking out the window, I go to check where they are, hoping they aren't rushing towards my house. That's when I see they've disappeared. All are gone.

Yet, where they were... are garbage bags. Big black garbage bags left on the curb, reminding me that tomorrow is trash day. Just normal, stuffed garbage bags, like you see every week the night before trash day.

Staring at each of them in turn, I'm not sure if I'm going to start laughing or crying. They weren't garbage bags before. I know it. I saw men. They were white skinned men all looking at me. I'm sure of it. I freaking felt them staring.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" I shout in shock when I catch my reflection in the window. Well, when I catch the reflection of my bare tits.

Looking down I see my shirt is up and over my breasts, exposing them to everyone that's looking into the window. My full and large breasts, on display for the world, without me having a clue. In fact, I was standing so close to the window, they are actually pressing against the glass.

Immediately I yank my shirt down, my face going bright red as I end the showing off of my FF's. Moving away from the window, I hold the front of my shirt down as if it is going to jerk back up magically. Doing this makes my hard nipples press against the fabric, showing off how aroused they are. But I fight to push this feeling away, telling myself that all that happened is when I raced to get my cell, my tits bounced because I'm not wearing a bra. And they must have pushed my shirt up. That's it.

Wait a second. I was wearing a bra. Grabbing hold of my breasts on the outside of my shirt, I discover that I'm braless. It's gone.

I'm not sure why, but I turn to look at the couch. There, laid out as if positioned, is my bra. It's completely spread out too, showing just how large the bra cups are. At some point... I took it off. But I don't remember doing that. And why would I do it?

Needing to talk to Marg, I look at my cell to see it's still dead. Frustrated, I race to my laptop. I'm fully prepared that it too is going to be dead, but thankfully, it's not. It acts like normal, no longer showing the pixelated screen.

"What the?" I groan as my laptop tells me it's not connected to the internet. I attempt to connect to the WiFi, but then discover that my network isn't listed. This leads me to go downstairs where my router is.

Once I'm downstairs, I don't have to look at or examine my router to know it's dead. I can smell it. There's a faint burnt smell that hangs in the air, and I know it's going to be from either the router or my modem. So when I reach it, I don't bother to pick it up. Sure, logically you could say that a power surge killed it when the power went out. But I doubt that's true. It's on a power surge protector after all. Even if there is the possibility that it could be fried, I'm not sure of anything that's happening here any longer.

How else am I going to talk to Marg? I have so much more to tell her. Not just about what I found in the attic, but the research I did about the fucker that lived here. It's not like I can tell anyone else. I attempted to share it on Reddit, but that was a disaster. If I could only talk to someone else, to tell them all that I learned to see what they think.

I think that's what makes all of this so maddening. I can't seem to get any true concrete facts about anything, so I don't know what to believe. I can't prove any of the weird things I see. I didn't record them, nor is there any damage to show. Just like all the stuff I researched. It's all rumors that were told person to person, with no proof at all. Especially as some of the rumors are freaking crazy.

The guy that built this house was named Dan Darkenmore, and he was an evil fucking bastard, if what I read was true. Dude was very wealthy and felt it made him better than everyone. So much so he didn't care when two men died making this house. In fact, one of the things I read said he was pissed that more didn't die while building it.

The guy was a sicko and a sex freak. I read everything from how he held orgies all the time to him forcing people to have sex in front of him. And by force, I do mean force. Holding their families hostage, having guns pointed at them, threatening to have his goons set them on fire, and other evil shit. Also, he forced them in every sense of the word. Made non-homosexual people do homosexual acts, and made homosexual people have sex with non-homosexual people. All for his cruel enjoyment.

The most troubling rumor I read is how he built this house special. He clearly had the money to have ten different mansions, but instead wanted to build this house the way he wanted. He built it for a purpose, but no one knows what the purpose was. It's a large house compared to most houses, but nothing compared to a mansion.

Oh, some of the rumors I read about this house were just plain gross. I know most aren't real as people love to make up stuff, but I have a feeling some are indeed real. Like he had virgin blood of adults mixed in with the red paint that coats the outside of the house. Or that he forced some poor woman to be anally raped in each and every room in the house so her screams could be captured in the walls.

Or maybe the most troubling, he kept people captive in the basement, using and toying with them, because he viewed them as sacrifices. That if he didn't have sex at least four times a day, it would cause him physical pain. And this wasn't the sort of guy that could have normal sex either.

If I had been smart, I would have looked into who lived in the house before I did. Not just who built it, but who lived here. But when I purchased the house, it was owned by a bank and no one had lived here for years, which should have been a clue. If I had only looked into it, if I spent five minutes poking around, none of this would have happened. I would have learned that no one has ever lived here besides that crazy, evil bastard. It's been passed about, sold and resold, but no one has dared to actually live here.

Freaked out, I walk back up the stairs and into my living room. When I get there, I pick up my fallen whiskey glass. I look at it for a moment, but decide not to drink any more. Not because I'm scared or anything, actually the opposite. I'm getting rather, well, aroused. The urge to have sex keeps getting stronger, and this isn't the time to be feeling it. The thought to fire up Tinder or some other site keeps popping in my head, which isn't like me. I'm not the sort to hook up like that. I've had one night stands, sure, but not like that.

I know it has to be the whiskey. The whiskey and fear. They are acting on each other to pump me full of chemicals and hormones to fuck with my emotions. But I'm strong. Strong enough to resist. I know that of all the times to be aroused, this isn't one of them. Especially thinking of the sex acts that sick bastard did within these very walls. I don't think I'll ever be able to have sex in this place if I'm being honest.

Right as I'm about to sit on my couch, I hear a faint noise. It's a strange noise that I don't know what it is or where it's coming from. It's not someone yelling or talking, nor is it someone knocking. It's tapping. Like some object tapping against something else. The problem is that it's distant, far away. But I listen to the tapping over and over, trying to place what it could be.

The noise is coming from inside the house, I can tell that much, and that's what scares me. Who knows what in the world I'm going to find. At this point, I don't think I can handle any new or horrible surprises. I just want a normal house and a normal life. A life where I don't have to worry about seeing shit or being magically stripped or raped.

I consider just ignoring the sound. To pretend I don't hear it. But how am I going to do that? I can't watch TV or listen to music because I have no internet. I can't surf the web even on my cell because it's not working either. What am I to do to not hear that crappy tapping?

Knowing I really have no choice, I begin to go room to room again, searching for whatever is making that noise. The noise does get a bit maddening as in some rooms it's louder, some softer, but there's no real reason for it. It is almost like the sound is moving.

Finally I go into the garage as it's the last place I haven't checked. The moment I walk into it, the cold feeling of fear is pumped inside me like a doctor giving a shot. The fear comes because I know exactly what the sound is, and it's the last straw. I've had enough. It's too much. I can't take any more and I'm leaving. I have to get out of this crappy, evil house.

Whatever dark presence that's here with me seems to sense my intentions, because at this exact moment, my pajama bottoms and panties are yanked down. They are forcefully pulled to my ankles, exposing my womanhood and ass. There's no other way for this to have happened, unless some unseen force did it.

Panicking yet again, I try to run while bending over to hoist up my pajama bottoms and panties, not even caring that they don't go back just perfect. I run as fast as I can towards my front door, refusing to be raped by a fucking ghost or demon or whatever the hell it is. Moving as fast as I can, I don't care that my cell is upstairs and I don't have my purse. All that matters is getting the fuck out of this house.

It takes mere seconds to reach my front door. Yet, knowing better as this night is clearly not a normal night, I flip on the porch light outside. I do this because I need to make sure there's no one out there. That there's no cult surrounding my house, prepared to grab me the moment I run out.

"Fuck," I grunt as when I look through the peep hole, all I see is darkness. Leaning back, I know this isn't right as I can see porch light shining though the side window as well as under the door. So why is the peephole blacked out?

This time, when I look through the peephole, there's darkness, then a brief moment of light for it to go back to black. It looked like a ray of light moved, as weird as that sounds. I keep looking out of the hole, knowing that something isn't right. That something is horribly wrong here.

Hurriedly stepping to the side, I move to the side window so I can look out. Pulling back the curtain, I look out at the front porch, trying to see what's going on.

I have to grab hold of the wall to prevent myself from falling over once I see my porch. A feeling of non-belief hits and I really think I may pass out. That my brain can't handle what I'm seeing because it can't be possible. It's impossible. Fucking impossible. IM-FUCKING-POSSIBLE.

Wasps. Big fucking wasps are everywhere. They crawl and walk all over each other as they cover most of my porch. Wasps of different sizes and colors. From angry looking yellow jackets to upset red wasps, to black as night hornets. They all mix together, making sure not to leave nearly any portion of my porch free from their patrol.

There's so many of them that at times they block out all of the light as they swarm the light fixture. They pile up on it, as if blocking the light on purpose. Like they are all working together.

There has to be thousands of them. Not just thousands, but tens of thousands... all surrounding my front porch; all blocking me from getting out of my door. For I know if I dare open the door, they will attack. And stinging will be the least of my worries as I feel they will crawl and force their way into every single hole on my body for daring to try to leave.

The next thing I know, I'm at my back door. I don't remember telling myself to go here, but it's what happens. Not that I mind. I have to get the fuck out of here. I have to get out of this house.

Before opening the back door, I look out the large window on top of the door. It's not something I've done before, but something makes me do it this time. Like some unseen 6^th sense.

"No... no! Damn it, NO!" I shout as I see several mean looking snakes coiled up at my back porch. These are large snakes too, of red and yellow color, not to mention scales. I don't know much about snakes, but I'm pretty sure those are going to be venomous. And as I look down at them, their black eyes look at me. I think I'm projecting this at first, but then they lift their triangular heads and hiss in my direction.

Stepping back from the door, it hits me. It's keeping me here. Whatever it is, doesn't want me to leave. It's keeping me here for whatever reason. I bet if I go to any window or other way out, there'll be something there to stop me. That the entire house is in some evil lockdown.

In something of a daze, I walk back from the door, not scared that the snakes are going to get inside. As crazy as it may sound, I know they are going to stay out there. Just like I know the wasps will too, and whatever else is out there. They don't want to go inside the house, but to keep me inside.

I walk slowly from the back door and into the kitchen. The layout of this place is odd to me, as instead of being close to the back door, the kitchen is on the other side of the house. Just like I find it odd there's only one bathroom on the bottom floor, yet three of them upstairs.

Testing my theory, when I enter the kitchen I look at the sliding glass door that leads to the side yard. All over the outside of the glass door are a multitude of spider webs. Stringy, scary looking webs that are covered in small black spiders with what looks like a red hourglass on the body. In a quick glance, I figure I see at least two dozen of them crawling about. I'm no spider person, but I'm pretty sure those are Black Widows.

This confirms what I already knew to be true. It's keeping me in the house. And it's far more powerful than what I thought it could be. It has the power to control insects, snakes and more. What else is it able to do? How powerful is the fucking thing?

Staring at the spiders, I hear the faint tapping noise. The sound that is nonstop and maddening as it's gotten louder. Or maybe it's just because I'm closer to it now as the sound is coming from the attic. The secret space in the attic.

When I was attempting to break into the fake wall up in the attic, I wasn't sure what to expect. And boy, it took me forever to break in. At first I was just using a crowbar, but in the end, I had to get a freaking sledgehammer. It wasn't just 2x4s that made up that wall, but wood glue, brackets and much more. Whomever sealed it up, didn't want it broken into.

The moment I was able to break in, from the moment I broke apart that first plank of wood, I was filled with a horrible darkness, like something evil moved over me. It felt like a moving shadow of hate and rage that was intelligent. Like pent up, intense, extreme emotions. It seemed to flow out of that room like water out of a glass. It was so intense, I swear I even saw some of it, like black smoke.

An hour later, I was able to take down enough of the fake wall to see true brick wall of the house. And oh, how I wished I hadn't. I wish I had left all of it alone. If I hadn't been so damn curious.

It was like another small room. A tiny room. And drilled into the brick wall were two thick iron chains bolted in near the top, close to the roof. They hung down a few feet, where the chains ended in lockable cuffs. Near the floor, were similar chains, but much shorter, also with cuffs.

It was pretty easy to see it was used to chain people up. That may not have been so bad, but those chains weren't the only thing in there. Attached to the wall on hooks was all sorts of... equipment. Sexual equipment. Old floggers, whips, clips, clamps, primitive dildos and some homemade tools I've never seen before but looked... painful.

Every one of these toys had its own spot were it was placed. Each one looked lovingly placed too, where they hung on their own shelf or hook, depending on the item. It showed that whomever did this, planned where to put each one, and wanted to make sure they wouldn't fall off.

There was even a long metal bar in its own casing, that took me a while to figure out that it was to pin a woman in place by inserting into a groove on the floor upward to... to... well... inside, you know, inside her special place. It would be inserted deep inside her womanhood, making it so she couldn't move at all.