The House that Hate Built

THE HOUSE THAT

HATE BUILT

 

T. A. Moorman

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

The House That Hate Built

Copyright © 2018 T. A. Moorman.

Written by T. A. Moorman.

 

The little old lady sat in her corner chair in the living room, all alone in her old seven-bedroom, brick house she always reminded everyone she alone owned. Bitter, angry, and most of all, alone.

All of her sisters had long since died. The children she turned against her youngest niece living their own lives, leaving her behind. The niece she did love and doted on - and signed the house over to in her will - had also moved on. And the youngest niece who had no reason to even care what happened to her one way or another still checked on her once every day. Not wanting her to end up one of those old crones to perish with no one finding her body until the smell of rotten meat became pungent enough to alert the neighbors.

The niece also knew one thing that no one else did, the house itself was possessed. There was an evil inside that sucked the love and care out of people from the moment they walked in. It had lived off of that family for generations. Causing constant strife between them that no one could explain. There would be fights over the most innocuous things; how the macaroni and cheese was cooked, a chair placed in the wrong position, a piece of paper on the floor. It was never-ending.

It was a wonder that as long as the family had lived together under that roof, no one noticed the same time every night the lights would flicker for a second right when the pipes would make a loud clanking noise. A noise usually accompanied by the floors shaking with it. My apologies. One did notice, the youngest niece. The one that knew to keep her mouth shut, shamed into silence about so much else. To open her mouth of such a thing would have brought her more harm than good.

Unbeknownst to anyone was that shaking pipes and blinking lights was the house feeding off all the negativity that it had caused. Feeding off all of the hatred, anger, and grief that ran rampant. It drank all the tears of anguish that hit the floor.

As the family drifted away it grew ever hungrier by the day. When it was no more than the old woman left for a while, it was content with all the bitterness she held within. But that wasn’t enough. The niece visiting didn’t help the house since it never was able to completely take her over like it had everyone else. The house was never able to put out that bright shining light of hers. But it did enjoy a feast with all the animosity it focused her way. As old as the aunt was she still would shame her for all the mistakes she’d made. Even though she was the only one to come and check on her.

Finally, the niece grew tired and the visits became more infrequent. And the house grew ravenous. It decided to take the aunt’s entire, bitter, cruel soul.

It chose a night during a horrendous thunderstorm. Lighting cracked in the darkened sky, striking trees left and right in its wake so hard that some of the tall husks feel to the ground. The thunder rumbled so loud it would muffle the loudest of screams. The perfect ambiance for what happened next.

The old lady scooted herself up and out of her chair, then headed to the carpeted staircase. As she grabbed onto the mahogany banister a sensation as if someone had dropped a cube of ice down the back of her shirt startled her. She instantly pulled her hand back, shook off the feeling and replaced her hand, thinking it was just her mind playing tricks on her.

The stairs creaked with each step she took. Once she made her way to the top and attempted to lift her leg to take that final step she couldn’t move. It was as though her foot was glued to the stair. She tried the other to no avail, it also wouldn’t budge, like it was being weighted down.

In actuality, the house finally got its hooks into the old woman. Lightning struck loud and hard right in tune with the old woman’s tortured screams, her bones cracking as a backdrop. The entire house shook as it drunk in that delectably corrupt, cruel, soul. The house drank its fill, crushing the old woman’s body from the inside out in the process like it was nothing more than a juice box.

Once the house was done it released the old woman. She went tumbling down the stairs until she hit the bottom. Which is exactly where she was found weeks later. It was assumed her bones had just been so old and frail that they cracked on her way down the stairs. There was no sign of foul play, so, she must have just accidentally slipped. What else could have happened?

The house was sold not too long after that to a nice loving family. The house smiled in delight as they crossed the threshold.