Ben (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} freakydimension) wrote,@ 2005-11-30 22:48:00 |
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The fellow opened the front door. "Hello?" He called out. "Is anyone there?" There was no reply from the stale darkness inside. Dust motes floated languidly in the air. A few shafts of light broke free of the boarded up windows to stab against the floor, those airborne specks of neglect lit like tiny falling stars when dare they stay across the intruding sunlight. The smell of stale air, heavy, unwelcoming clung in his nostrils. He was aware of each breath as the scent, with every inhalation seemed to be silently imploring get out. This house had long been reclaimed by time, by entropy. It was a house that no longer cared for it's inhabitants.
Pushing the door open against reluctant hinges, the fellow stepped inside. The floor creaked and sagged ominously when he set his weight upon the carpet that was more mold than carpet now. Patches of moss here and there like pools of green, white tendrils rising up like ghostly grass. It was a verdant landscape of mildew and spore.
"Hello?" He called out again. The light he had seen had been flickering dimly from a second story window. He had been sure he had not imagined it. Stepping further into the gloom he saw the dim outline of a banister and stairs leading upward, years of dust laying undisturbed on each flight. He crept up to the foot of the stairs, peering upward, straining his hearing, but discerning only silence and age from the inky blackness of the second floor.
Discouraged, and feeling the weight of the dilapidated house pressing ever more strongly against his will, the fellow turns to leave when out of the side of his vision is a motion. Just a rush of blackness to blackness but it is enough to make his head snap around and his heart race. He stared intently at the spot where nothing was for a moment, again straining his senses against the unrelenting stillness. He froze, he could hear breathing! Softly, in the darkness, something was breathing slowly, It sounded like dry leaves across pavement. He felt chills down his back. Quickly he turned and ran the few steps through the open front door back into the cold night air.
He kept running down the path, away from the house. When he got to the gate he stopped, his hand, white knuckled, gripped the fence as he gasped for air and fought to regain composure. The air bit into his lungs with it's temperature, his breath great plumes of smoke. Snow glittered on the ground with reflected moonlight. Dimly he was aware that many hours must have passed in the house. He looked up at the house, the light in the second story window still flickered there but only for a moment, for as he watched it faded and was gone.
Pushing the door open against reluctant hinges, the fellow stepped inside. The floor creaked and sagged ominously when he set his weight upon the carpet that was more mold than carpet now. Patches of moss here and there like pools of green, white tendrils rising up like ghostly grass. It was a verdant landscape of mildew and spore.
"Hello?" He called out again. The light he had seen had been flickering dimly from a second story window. He had been sure he had not imagined it. Stepping further into the gloom he saw the dim outline of a banister and stairs leading upward, years of dust laying undisturbed on each flight. He crept up to the foot of the stairs, peering upward, straining his hearing, but discerning only silence and age from the inky blackness of the second floor.
Discouraged, and feeling the weight of the dilapidated house pressing ever more strongly against his will, the fellow turns to leave when out of the side of his vision is a motion. Just a rush of blackness to blackness but it is enough to make his head snap around and his heart race. He stared intently at the spot where nothing was for a moment, again straining his senses against the unrelenting stillness. He froze, he could hear breathing! Softly, in the darkness, something was breathing slowly, It sounded like dry leaves across pavement. He felt chills down his back. Quickly he turned and ran the few steps through the open front door back into the cold night air.
He kept running down the path, away from the house. When he got to the gate he stopped, his hand, white knuckled, gripped the fence as he gasped for air and fought to regain composure. The air bit into his lungs with it's temperature, his breath great plumes of smoke. Snow glittered on the ground with reflected moonlight. Dimly he was aware that many hours must have passed in the house. He looked up at the house, the light in the second story window still flickered there but only for a moment, for as he watched it faded and was gone.
