House on the hill short story (511 words)

The house stood dark on the hill, its shadows caressing the town sleeping in the meadow below it. Lizzie peeked outside the window, waiting for someone. She hadn’t left the house in three months, ever since the accident had happened. The meadow reminded her of her crooked pinkie: dark and motionless.

Lizzie moved on from the window, deeper into the house that used to be filled with laughter, but hadn’t been since everyone but her vanished in the booting accident that left her disabled. A weird noise outside of the house made her jump. Could it really be Tristan getting there earlier than he had promised? The strong knock on the door proved her it wasn’t at all the one she was expecting. Her weak legs carried her to the door that had let many friends in over the years, but hadn’t seen a friendly visitor in weeks.

“Mrs Fitzpatrick! Open the door!”

The voice outside sounded familiar in a way she couldn’t describe, but she hadn’t been the best at remembering, maybe it was her mind playing tricks on her. She slowly opened the door, and saw a man standing in the tiny opening.

“You,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

“Mrs Fitzpatrick, you know why I’m here,” he smirked.

“I do not remember your face, are you a friend of my husband? I haven’t seen him in a while,” she said, her eyes searching for something to identify the stranger with.

“Don’t make you stupider than you are! As if I could be friends with your foolish husband,” he answered with a strong voice.

“You weren’t supposed to come back. The deal was to get the accident over with, and then you leave me and my property alone,” she said, her face suddenly sharp and angry.

“I knew you would miss me,” he said with a crooked smile, a shadow overpassing his slashed face.

“You’re so full of yourself, always have been. You have gotten rid of my husband, a price I was willing to pay for freedom of your curse. But you took more of me than you bargained for, and now you’re back here. This is dangerous, for you,” she said, a knowing smirk appearing on her face.

“We’ll see about that. But how about you let me in and show me some sort of hospitality? I’m your beloved guest after all.”

“Come on in, then, dear friend. But don’t come crying back when this house isn’t what you’re used to,” she said, stepping back with a deep laugh exiting her throat.

He stepped inside the house and removed his top hat which he placed on his heart before a mischievous smile appeared on his face. Lizzie closed the door behind him, and a low whistle escaped her. She heard a click in her back, and she instantly knew she was now a target. Lizzie let the facade she had worked carefully to construct drop, and turned around the death she’d seen and caused showing in her black eyes.

“How about giving me your soul now, Mrs Fitzpatrick?

Disclamer: this stories has not been edited properly.

Copyright © Author Anne Sophie and Estelle van de Velde, All rights reserved