|The House in the Woods (standard:horror, 2016 words)|
|Author: Nathaniel MIller||Added: Jun 13 2015||Views/Reads: 660/497||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Contest piece for writing.com. The sinister use of lights to lure the foolish into the woods. (Based on picture given) and a story to be written using that picture.|
The House in the Woods By Nathaniel Miller It is on an autumn evening that Steven Johnson stands on their porch in the back of their house. It sits on three acres that he had purchased not long ago in rural Tennessee. It was their home for his wife Shirley, and his three spectacular kids: Bobby, age thirteen, Peter, age ten, and their sister Fanny, age seven. The property that the house sits on, a modest four bedrooms, three baths contemporary home, is mostly wooded. There is a clear area where the house sits, with an eerie barn on the far corner, a wind mill next to it and a shack that sits across from it. Across from their property, on the narrow road that snakes through the forest like a python, are the only neighbors near to them in this community. Any other neighbors they had otherwise are over two miles away through the eerie forest that surrounds them. They had been working for the last three days to get moved in after the moving truck had dropped their stuff at the house. They had stopped for a break, watching as the sunset began to turn the sky red over the woods that surrounded their home. As he moved to the inner electric switch, his hand shook as he flipped it to the on position. When he stepped back onto the patio, the flood lights brightening the area around him and his family, and it is here that he noticed the strange line of Christmas lights. They ran to the barn nearby, then to the shed and disappeared into the thick thicket of branches that made up the woods. Hanging from the line, he saw glass jars, every so many feet, attached to the line, making it bow slightly from the weight. It had been the first thing he noticed about this property. It is the first thing Shirley, his wife, noticed too, when stepping out the first time on the back porch four days ago. Together they did not understand why there were lights to each building and then leading into the woods. "I wonder what those are used for?" He asked himself, spotting the jars, some partially filled with condensation of water from the heat of summer, and the rain from the wet weather found in Tennessee. The lights glowed brightly, some flashing as they ran toward the barn from the house, to the storage shack near the barn and then disappeared into the eerie leafless thicket of the woods. Squinting, his eyes, he tried to follow the line and found that he could not. "I am going to follow them and see where they lead." Steve muttered with determination and stepped off the porch. It was early yet, and the red sky seemed to make the woods glow. It was getting dusk, and the temperature was beginning to drop rapidly, a stiff, cold, wind whipping through the branches of the woods. "Where are you going honey?" Shirley, his wife asked and he glanced at her, as he hefted his rifle onto his shoulder. "I am curious why there are lights running to the barn, the shed, and then into the forest." He told her, "I was going to follow them into the woods and see what they lead to." "It is kind of creepy, come into the house and we'll figure it out in the morning dear." Shirley told her husband, and he shook his head, smiling as he walked down the path toward the woods. Turning his head, Steve stared across the expanse of the clearing that contained the barn, shed and the other buildings. Here he waved to his neighbor who stood at the paved road next to the family's mailbox. The neighbor waved back. He had begun to come over with his wife, carrying a basket to welcome the family into the neighborhood, but had paused, turning away when they saw the string of lights on. The neighbor across the way had said hi a few times in the few days the family moved in. As always they stood strangely near the mailbox and watched in silence as we all worked to help unload the moving van. They did not like this home. There was scuttlebutt about something sinister that lived in the woods, and once inhabiting the home they were moving into. They claimed it was haunted. Steve laughed the first time the real estate agent told him the stories and only shook his head in silence. Click here to read the rest of this story (132 more lines)
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