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The House on 24 Street

Will you hang?

By Horror Shorts By William SkeetPublished 6 years ago 4 min read
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Will you hang?

Midnight.

Thick dusky moonlight bleached the strictly white cracked dirtied walls. George stood there, his yellow trench coat, a mucky darkened colour, hung from his small arms like a man who had committed suicide, but hadn't struggled to fight against it. He was tired at this point; tired of running. The very thing its self seemed to be something he craved the most. Tired... A single drip could be heard in the far distance, however George seemed to feel it was a faint voice laughing at him, playing with him. Drip... His eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room, George softly hummed a song his Mother used to sing when he couldn't sleep as a kid. It was a song he couldn't remember the first time he heard it, had just always been there, always resting in his mind. Always...

Death hung over his shoulders and it seemed to grip harder with every step he took deeper into the house of 24 street. The house had once been home to a family, the Peats family, a nice family. At least that's what George thought until the night it happened, in fact that's what everyone thought of the Peats family. A simple Family by nature but no one knew of the horror that unfolded in that very house on 24 Street. The house of 24 Street wasn't really a street at all, it was a singular house which always confused George. He remembered the very day the Peats family arrived, it was the Lord's day; a Sunday. They came in their big blacked out family car. The mother got out first. Looking back now, George can see clearly she wasn't happy, however it was only until it happened he thought this, as he had always thought before she was a beautiful happy woman. In fact, George had a slight fantasy with her and as boy of 16 he often indulged in thinking about her. Next was the two boys, young twins around the age of 8, George was never sure as he never got to meet them, only see them looking out the windows as he and his friends road their bikes down the road of 24 Street. Looking out at them with their grey faces and deep blue eyes, the boys often found the twins haunting and didn't stay on 24 street long if they were watched by the twins. After the Dad, Mr. Peats, came out of the car, George never forgot what he looked like, as he always had the same dark exasperation on his face. George was scared of Mr. Peats, as was George's friends. They would often joke, when riding past on their bikes, about him.

"George quick he's coming... he's coming!"

"Quick he's gonna get us... he's gonna eat all!"

"He's coming to catch us..."

Laughing.

They would all pedal hard racing up 24 street, as if Mr. Peats was indeed coming for them and, oddly enough, the boys truly believed sometimes Mr. Peats overheard them screaming his name in the street and would come out to race after them. After they took a right on to 25 street, they would be safe; unlike 24 street, 25 has more houses and all 4 of the boys lived along the street. Frankie, a shy boy, lived with his mum in number 5. George lived with his mum, dad and brother in number 13, Noah in number 15 and finally Jonnie in number 17. George missed the boys as he thought back to before it happened. "I,f we only knew" he thought. "How stupid we were to come here in the first place." Missing...

Shivering, George came to the end of the moon-bleached hallway. In front of him stood a solid oak door, unlike the cheap doors featured in his or his friend's houses. Griping the stone cold door claps, he turned it. His heart began to pump hard, his anxiety started to take over, his blood filling his veins. Pumping... He closed his eyes and took a deep breath falling into deep thoughts of what happened on the night, unknowing why it hadn't got him yet. Frozen, George let out a single tear, which dripped slowly down his dirty face. Turning the claps slowly, the once empty silent house was now filled with an echo of noise from the rusted clips of the door. This split the air and left George with a hard lump feeling in his un-cracked throat. The wind blew through the house and the clasp flung from his hand, slamming the door open and cracking against the dampened broken walls. What was left in front of George was red, it couldn't be unseen. His eye scrawling as answers stood before him. His friends... The Twins... The Mother... and one empty rope space... Hanging. dead.

A deep voice came from behind George as it griped his shoulder like a father figure would to their son.

"Time to hang George... Time to hang."

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About the Creator

Horror Shorts By William Skeet

Short Horror storys to spook and to scare. Blood, mystery and more...

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