The Right House on the Block

The following short story was presented at the Jersey City Writers’ monthly genre event–Creepypasta: A Literary Reading of Web Horror. Please enjoy.


The heavy wood door creaked open.  A large and pudgy middle aged woman in a skirted suit holding a tablet computer stepped inside the house.  Before her was an entrance hall with a high ceiling and a grand staircase.

“Come in folks.  I think you’ll find this house is perfect for you.”

A dashing young couple with a ten year old boy stepped inside.  The man was tall with slicked back black hair, and a double-breasted suit. The woman’s chestnut hair matched her split leg red gown.  She directed her piercing green eyes at the realtor.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

“It was built in neo-gothic style in the early 21st Century.”

“Positively ancient,” the man said, “but I am a history professor.”

“Right this way please,” the realtor said gesturing forward.

A faint screeching of metal issued from above and plaster fell to the floor.  Everyone looked up, and the realtor gestured for everyone to step back.  The fixture holding the large chandelier broke through the ceiling and the chandelier crashed to the floor in a shower of crystal and broken light bulbs.

“Is this house haunted?” the man asked.

“No, I think it’s just old,” the realtor replied regaining her composure.

“Damn, I wanted a pet ghost,” the boy said.

“Quiet Jimmy,” his mom hissed.

“Well, I’m so sorry about the mess.  Naturally I would have repairmen fix it before you moved in.  Would you like to see the rest of the house?”

“Yes, we would,” the man said.  “I have never been afraid of a little hard work.”

“Very well,” the realtor said. “To the right are the kitchen and half bath, to the left is the library and study.  Follow me and I will show you the living room-dining room.”  She walked right past the stairs and opened a set of ornate double doors revealing a spacious and comfortable room.  The family followed her and their gaze was immediately drawn to the fireplace off to the left.

“Why is there a fire in August?” the man asked pointedly.

“There’s no wood in the fireplace,” his wife added.

The realtor stood perplexed for moment then said, “Possibly a creosote fire.  I’ll add it to the to-do list.”

“Did someone die in this house?” the woman asked, her voice rising.  “You are legally obligated to tell us if it was by unnatural means.”

“Well, yes,” the realtor replied.  “Last month a couple died here by murder-suicide.  The police said the wife set her husband on fire in his bed and then immolated herself.  Dreadful business.  They did not even have a chance to fix the place up.”

“Well that’s unexpected,” the man said a bit wide eyed.

“How’s your relationship?” the realtor asked.

“Long lasting,” the woman replied wearily.

“Were you high school sweet hearts?”

“Close enough,” she answered.

The fire suddenly stopped and there was a brief back draft drawing everyone’s attention.  Only a few wisps of smoke remained.

After a pregnant pause the realtor said, “Perhaps I will show you the second floor now.” Without waiting for a reply she walked out of the room and turned right towards the stairs taking care not to slip on broken glass.  She started up the stairs and the family followed her.  When they were halfway up the boy gave a bloodcurdling scream.

“Moooom, the painting looked at me,” Jimmy said pointing to a large painting on the wall.

The realtor saw a flicker of movement as eyeholes in the painting closed, but the parents didn’t appear to notice.

“This is the man who had the house built.  He hasn’t looked at anything in centuries,” she said.

“You’re fat.  I bet you bleed fat too,” Jimmy said pouting.

His mother clamped her left hand over his mouth.

“Please excuse our son,” the husband said.  “We would like to see the rest of the house.”

“So, your office must be open late,” the wife said changing the subject.

“No, everyone went home two hours ago.  I just came out to show this house.”

The realtor turned and stepped up to the second floor.  “This floor has four bedrooms and a full bath in addition to the master suite on the left.”

The realtor opened a heavy door to the left and stepped in followed by the family.  The room was spacious with a red and brown marble floor.  In front of them was a fireplace connected to the same chimney as the one downstairs and to the right was a king sized brass bed.

“I’m actually impressed.  We’ll take the house,” the man said closing and locking the door.  “Don’t worry about the ghosts though.  You’ll be joining them soon.”

The hairs stood up on the back of the realtor’s neck as she turned around.  The three smiled fanged grins at her and their eyes burned red.  The wife lunged at her.  She stepped back but the wife grabbed her arm and bit her wrist, then pulled her head back with blue ooze dripping from her fangs.

“Sorry bitch I don’t bleed red,” the realtor said in a suddenly masculine voice.  The wife looked up to see the realtor morph into a large man.  He ripped his arm away from her and strode towards the wall.  “Say cheese neck biters.”

He ripped open a concealed panel and hit a big red button.  The ceiling split and slid back in two sections revealing a room sized lamp.  There was a bright flash of light and heat that lingered and cycled down.  When the former realtor picked up his head he saw three flaming human shaped piles on the floor and a black man in heavy armor starring down at him from the attic.

“Hey Max, I’m glad we didn’t ice you when we found out you was a shape shifter.  You’re one bitchin’ addition to the team.”

“Leroy, I’m glad you and George got the sun lamp working.  Next time fix the chandelier and don’t burn your garbage in the fireplace.”


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