Tales of the legless
The house stood at the end of the street looming over the rest of the homes. Its small windows and door only making the overall building appear larger then what it really was. The townsfolk where foaming at the mouth about how the house was ‘Cursed’ but I didn’t see what all the fuss was about. My name is Roger bell and I’m here to clean up this house so I can sell it to some money machine. A job, which is difficult to say the least, as I am wheelchair bound.
I rolled up to the house and slowly opened the door revealing a long hallway that split into multiple rooms and ended at some stairs. Most of the rooms where empty and did not need any work on my part but one room in particular caught my eye. It was a large room with everything from the wallpaper to the furniture decorated in red. Suddenly a radio in the corner of the room turned on and started playing fairground music which kept looping over and over. The melody was having a strange effect on me, it was making me remember. The memories where horrible. I was at the fairground and the seatbelt snapped on the bumper cars. I fell out and my legs got crushed. The memories seemed so real, like I could feel the pain I had experienced that day.
I thrashed out at the radio and hit it causing it to break into several pieces. As the music faded away I could have sworn I heard someone laughing. Laughing at the fact that I couldn’t just run away, that I couldn’t get up and turn the radio off, that I couldn’t chase after the laughter and stop it.
I managed to calm myself down but still felt uneasy. The radio had no batteries in it and wasn’t connected to any electrical outputs so how could it have turned on ? The colours of the house appeared to get brighter and brighter the more I became frightened so I tried my best to calm down. The colours eventually returned to normal as if I had taken something precious away from the house. The rest of the rooms upstairs were not particularly odd. Just a few cobwebs here and there and some dusty furniture, but nothing of interest. But while moving through the house I had a strange feeling that I was brought to this dwelling for a reason other than to do my job.
Luckily for me the stairs were more like a ramp and were easily manoeuvrable. One of the rooms caught my eye because to enter you had to pass through a large steel door. Inside the room there were pictures covering the walls of different people in a timeline. Each one ending with a picture of them inside this room. One specific row caught my eye. It was of a man in a wheelchair but there was a tear mark over his face. The picture that should have been at the end of the timeline was not there. The main difference to this image was that there was another parallel to it with each picture set in the same surroundings. In the parallel picture the man did not have a wheelchair and was surrounded by people who had also had their faces torn out. The setting in particular caught my eye and sent a shiver down my spine. It was a fairground, not just any fairground, but the place I had my accident! Suddenly the door slammed shut behind me. I scampered to the exit but I couldn’t open it. That’s when I realised, I was out of my chair, I was standing up! The laugh from earlier sounded behind me and I spun around to see that the pictures now had faces, my face, then it all came back to me. I was never crippled. I could always walk; the people in the pictures were my friends. That’s when I realised all the timelines had parallel pictures next to them with the person injured in some way. Then it hit me. The house used its power to attract people to it. It then feed of their despair, trapping them in this room, the room I had become imprisoned in. Trapped in the very house I wished to sell but now the house would continue to claim its victims as long as it continued to exist.
The longer I sat in the room the brighter it became feeding on my despair and the despair of its other victims. The strange thing was that I wasn’t getting weaker but just getting more depressed. Finding all of this unbearable I began to doubt that anyone would ever notice that I was gone. They would never even acknowledge the fact that I may have died. All these thoughts running through my head, making sitting in the room unbearable. That’s when I noticed a revolver on the table with a single shell next to it. The house was offering me a way out. As if It knew that If I accepted its gift it would be winning. I desperately tried to ignore it but to no avail. Over the course of a few hours more and more weapons and objects appeared. Items which could be used to end my life. As the offers grew more and more frequent I began to realise that the only way out way to accept the houses grizzly offer, but what would be the outcome of this. Would not accepting the offer and dying slowly still have the same outcome as killing myself? Has the demonic presence in the house already won? The more I think about the more I feel that all hope is lost which makes the room glow brighter as if it was agreeing with me. So I decide to end it all. I pick up the revolver, slide the shell into the chamber and pull my finger down hard on the trigger. I feel at peace now, I am happy, I am free.