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the house on the hill (standard:horror, 440 words)
Author: kendall thomasAdded: Mar 06 2003Views/Reads: 2127/0Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
moomlight creates a hungry loser.
 



THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 

by Twisted Wabbit 

The night was wrapped in a silvery cloud through which the full moon
barely shown, but it still worked its powerful influence.  The man was 
no longer human in shape; he had a nuzzle like that of a wolf and 
broad, fur covered shoulders that had recently ripped through his denim 
shirt. 

There was a light in the distance, and hunger drove him toward it.  The
gothic-style house sat on a slight rise above a long, L-shaped building 
near a deserted road. 

A faint light was shinning from a second story window. 

The wolfman tried the door; it was unlocked.  Inside there was a
stairway in a musty, broad hall.  A faint glow came from an open door 
to the left of the landing on the upper floor. 

Cautiously, he climbed the stairs, the sharp claws of his hand scarring
grooves in the antique mahogany railing.  Slobber fell from his ragged 
teeth as he peered into the lighted room.  He could see a woman sitting 
in a rocker, next to a lamp on a side stand, her back to him.  She was 
still.  Probably asleep.  Without hesitating, he leaped forward on 
powerful legs, pouncing on the woman, gnashing at her spindly throat 
with his sharp teeth, tearing at her clothes and flesh with his curved 
claws -- but something was wrong! The flesh was old, dry like a 
mummy's.  The bones rattled around inside the brittle sack of flesh 
like pebbles in a gourd. 

The wolfman gagged and spit out the mouthful of parchment-like gore he
had ripped out of her throat.  He glanced down at the scattered pile of 
bones and flesh on the floor.  The woman had been dead for a long time 
-- years. 

Suddenly he heard the front door open.  Glancing around he saw a
bathroom through an opening.  He entered the shower stall and pulled 
the slightly translucent curtain closed. 

Soft steps entered the room and through the filmy curtain he made out
the vague form of a woman.  She stooped over the desiccated remains by 
the rocking chair, silent and unmoving for a moment.  The wolfman could 
hear his stomach growl in anticipation of a meal.  He made ready to 
spring as the woman came toward the bathroom -- but before he could 
move, the woman jerked the curtain aside and shoved a long, thick 
bladed knife into him. 

Again!  And again!  And again! 

Splattering wolf blood all over the floor, walls and ceiling . . . . 

Down by the L-shaped building a neon sign was flickering, on and off: 

~ BATES MOTEL, VACANCY ~ 


   


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