666 Stockbridge Road

At the end of the deserted cul-de-sac 666 sat much like the other twelve houses that split even and lined on either side of it. Each house looked very much the same: the same beige siding, the same beige shutters, the same ruler edge driveways and even the same porch, perfect for summer evenings. Pushing the heavy gates open, the touch of the iron bars as cold as ice seized up my hand completely. With every breath I drew a misty and chilly exhale followed. Even though I could feel the unevenness of the old cobbled path below me, they were smooth in contrast to the crunching of the old dead leaf that I stepped on. Towards the center the steps were worn smooth but nevertheless covered in dirt however the steps near the sides were rougher and more difficult to make out because overgrown thorns, moss and weed covered them like a blanket. Carrying up on the path the grass carried on forever into the horizon, a dull grey color as if it had lost the will to live and stopped growing altogether. Weeds and dandelions poked out from the cracks in the walkway leading up to the house and the vines formed a twisted maze upon the side of the house reaching their tentacles towards the roof. Ominous, great black clouds circled overhead drawing nearer and nearer to number 666, the demanding winds fed into the clouds screaming for my attention. As the house drew nearer everything around me became quieter and more distant- the trees murmuring couldn’t be heard anymore and the cold iron gates were far, far back in the distance. From the outside, the house was tall and thin, made from large dark grey stones that had a rough feel and were sandwiched together by crumbling cement. Climbing plants grew up the house winding around the drainpipes grabbing for the little sunlight that reached this desolate place. The windows rattled vigorously from the howling wind as though they were about to fall out of the frames that were made from rotting wood being eaten away by a woodworm. A few potted plants lay next to the door, once there for neat presentation now wilted and brown, almost certainly dead. Cobwebs covered the corners of the door like tiny black spiders treading towards their prey. The door had been left ajar and great shadows slunk out of the open doorway with terrifying grace. A musty, dank odor crept into my nose and the house was dead silent except for the intermittent creaks and moans caused by my light tread. The hallway was dull and smelt of dust mixed with old age. Paintings hung up of what looked like important and rich people, their eyes following my every move. Beneath the portrait were a few shards of scattered, broken glass beneath which were decaying, rat-eaten and cracked floorboards. My throat tightened due to the thick blanket of dust which lay still on top of the furniture, moving only to allow the odd speck of dust to odd speck of dust to slip away from it’s support and come tumbling to the ground, drifting through the gentle wind. To the left was an old stone stairway leading upwards to the second floor; each step I took intensified the moaning and creaking as if the steps would collapse under my weight at any moment. Dark shadows lurked in the still air along with the faint smell of death that hung in the chilled darkness of the still night. The air shimmered and my eyes unwillingly shot a glance at the window. It was a single window, covered with grime and calm moonlight struggled to penetrate through the darkness in thin thread rays. The cloud had obscured the moon in the dark night filling the sky with a sense of anger and malice. Everything seemed ghastly and unrealistic. Just then I saw someone hurrying inside one of the doors at the top of the staircase. “Who’s there?” I shrieked and shivered with fright but the dim light of the moon flickered and the person darted away. I heard the sound of branches scratching against the glass as the wind rustled the trees and the curtains inside the house shook as if they were laughing. Whispers of lost voices echoed all around me, creating a gloomy ambiance. Hesitantly stepping forward my hands began to quiver, my heart beat faster and at that particular moment I sensed it…something was following me. My body was being overwhelmed with fear, it was harder for me to breathe and my hands frantically searched around the darkness trying to find a way to escape this nightmare. My knees collapsed underneath me, the hairs on the back of my arms and neck stood on end as I gently placed a sweaty hand on the rail which was cold as ice in order to steady myself. My lungs started screaming and my breaths started to slow down in a pitiful attempt to control my racing heartbeat. A hot, salty tear ran down my cheek as I swallowed in grim determination. I used my hands to steer me in whatever direction was obvious in the thick and opaque darkness with only the sound of my heavy breathing and my conscience telling me to leave. A howl echoed through the house as I ran through the house tripping over the ripped and moth-eaten carpet curling on the floor. It was dingy as the majority of windows in this part of the house were boarded up not letting the autumn sunshine into the depilated house. The few rays that did pass through failed to light the large room making it shadowy. My foot slipped on a stair and I fell down, my hands and feet curling up to protect my head as my life flashed before my eyes. My fall was cushioned by the smooth and cold surface of the dew-covered grass, which grew in tussocks and flattened in waves with each gust of the wind. My eyes opened and I gasped looking around me only to be met with the familiar sight of the beige coloured walls of my room and realized that I was just dreaming.