Pent up hostility, maybe?
Sep. 11th, 2002 01:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zebralittle52This really short tidbit came to me while I was driving home tonight. No idea where it came from or what it might turn into (if anything.)
There is a house, high up on a hill, where even the cats don't go. The mice, the owls, no creature with a lick of sense goes near the place, and over the years it's reputation has grown wild and free. Even teenage boys have stopped daring each other to step through the gate. Hundreds of years worth of dust carpets the floor, hundreds of years worth of rain have pitted the shutters. And hundreds of years worth of whispers have shrouded the building in blood.
Tadious? Tadious, wake up.
It began easily enough, as most horror stories do. Star crossed love, forbidden and sweet, blooming in supposed secret. Enter the jilted suitor, add a night of high tension and snapping reason, and the explosion was as destined as the rising moon.
The rainstorm may have been added later, every cliche has it's limit.
No! You can't... you can't leave me like this!
They never cleaned the blood, before closing the house. One story has it they tried, but the stains came back, climbing through relayed carpet and replastered wood. That the soul trapped in the once ruby drops refused to buried and forgotten. One story has it no one could enter the room for being sick at the carnage, and thus the stain never came clean.
Tad? Brandon? What was that sou...
Perhaps the knowledge that a human had wrought such evil, that human hands were used to crack another's skull open, that human bone had broken on bone and human nails had tore off skin, kept the servants away. Though eventually the smell became too great. Perhaps that was why the house became abandoned.
Robert... it's not... It's not the way it looks.
Three bodies were buried under the old apple tree. Three shadows are forever etched into the fabric of that house.
What have you done?
Three voices cry out, when the moon is full and there's no on there to listen.
No.. I didn't... I couldn't!
One, so young, cries for what happened.
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!
One, confused, cries in protest and in pain.
Brandon? No... I....what have I done?
One, simply cries.
There is a house, high up on a hill, where even the cats don't go. The mice, the owls, no creature with a lick of sense goes near the place, and over the years it's reputation has grown wild and free. Even teenage boys have stopped daring each other to step through the gate. Hundreds of years worth of dust carpets the floor, hundreds of years worth of rain have pitted the shutters. And hundreds of years worth of whispers have shrouded the building in blood.
Tadious? Tadious, wake up.
It began easily enough, as most horror stories do. Star crossed love, forbidden and sweet, blooming in supposed secret. Enter the jilted suitor, add a night of high tension and snapping reason, and the explosion was as destined as the rising moon.
The rainstorm may have been added later, every cliche has it's limit.
No! You can't... you can't leave me like this!
They never cleaned the blood, before closing the house. One story has it they tried, but the stains came back, climbing through relayed carpet and replastered wood. That the soul trapped in the once ruby drops refused to buried and forgotten. One story has it no one could enter the room for being sick at the carnage, and thus the stain never came clean.
Tad? Brandon? What was that sou...
Perhaps the knowledge that a human had wrought such evil, that human hands were used to crack another's skull open, that human bone had broken on bone and human nails had tore off skin, kept the servants away. Though eventually the smell became too great. Perhaps that was why the house became abandoned.
Robert... it's not... It's not the way it looks.
Three bodies were buried under the old apple tree. Three shadows are forever etched into the fabric of that house.
What have you done?
Three voices cry out, when the moon is full and there's no on there to listen.
No.. I didn't... I couldn't!
One, so young, cries for what happened.
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!
One, confused, cries in protest and in pain.
Brandon? No... I....what have I done?
One, simply cries.
