David noticed the tiny advertisement in a local newspaper and on a whim, he circled it.
As the evening sun sprawled its crimson rays with abandon, David set out towards “Rose Villa”.
Soon he found himself staring at a quaint looking building which had an eerie air around it.
As he knocked, he was greeted by an old woman. He found himself rambling through a dusty staircase. But, he was surprised to see that the room in the attic was all lit up and freshly minted.
“You liked the room, son?”, Mrs. Fernandes asked delightfully.
It was three AM.
The wind rattled the shiny windows and woke him up. Soft murmurs filled the room and he turned all sweaty and scared.
I must be dreaming, he told himself.
His hair stood on their ends as he heard a familiar voice.
Beads of sweat trickled through his brow. Jumping out of his bed he ran hastily towards the staircase while the whispers transformed into loud shrieks.
“Mrs. Fernanades”, he called out.
Each room peered at him emptily.
But, a framed photograph made him freeze.
In what looked like a family portrait, Mrs. Fernandes stood next to ‘her’.
Stella. How is that possible? I..with my own hands….
He was swirled through the air.
Trembling, he went for the main door.
He turned the door knob and came out.
After running a few meters, he turned around.
There lay in front of him an empty piece of land strewn with graves, where once stood ‘Rose Villa’.
The headstones displayed all sorts of names.
And then he saw it. His scream broke the sinister silence as a bloody hand pulled him in.
Mrs. Fernandes looked lovingly at her granddaughter. She smiled before disappearing into nothingness.
This is an entry into ODE-7, #helloween, hosted by the watchers of Room8 | ArtoonsInn. Do share your comments and rate the writing out of 10.