The Starved Ones
The home on Riverspring Drive was infamous throughout the
neighborhood. It never had to be described, everyone knew which ‘House’ was
spoken of in all the horror stories gossiped amongst the teens. All the homes
in the old district looked they could have a ghoul or two prepared to peek
through lace curtains, but this one had something especially frightening about
it.
It was a two-story parlor house, with basement and attic, it
looked like it stepped right out of the Louisiana territory where sophisticated
southern ladies were preparing tea while men with impressive handlebar
mustaches chatted about business on the large open front-porch. Give it a new
coat of pristine white paint, replace the roof, and do some serious gardening
and it would look like a spectacular house that anyone would love to purchase.
But that history drove even the best of house-flippers away from its financial
prospect.
It was one thing for a house to be haunted (that could
actually add value for some), it was another thing to have a tortured history and
the intense stench of decay forever engraved in the very structure.
The old house had been a doctor’s office. Patients were
tended to on the first floor, family lived on the top, and medical supplies
were stashed in the basement. But of
course, that is not all the basement held. It would not be a good neighborhood
ghost tale if that was the case.
No, it seems there was something else there, and extra space
that had been placed in when it was built—or at least when the doctor moved in.
Deep in the corner, probably hidden underneath the stairs to block out any
traces of light, was a little room with metal bars and a secure padlock.
At first it was said it was a protected storage system for
the medical drugs. But it was just a cover up for something more sinister and
juicy for a midnight story.
The starved ones lived in that little cell. The human
experiment the good neighborhood doctor was compelled to complete and what consumed
the house in a curse of madness, death, and demonic torture.
--
The house had the stereotypical smell of must and rotten
wood. Rebecca was impressed that every ghost story and haunted house had it. It
must’ve been a required trait. Not haunted if it wasn’t smelly.
She stopped at the grand entrance, her flashlight trailing
around the darkness. Ghosts? All she was catching was dust particles she was
kicking up with her feet.
Risking a sneezing fit she took a strong whiff of the air.
There was no stench of decaying flesh or festering feces. All she got was a
small choking fit from dust-bunnies.
Once she could breathe she snorted in disappointment.
This was the infamous haunted house of Riverspring? She
should’ve known it was just a ridiculous urban legend. More than likely it had
too many foundation problems and that was why no one wanted to purchase the
stupid thing. Given the economy it was no wonder no one wanted to take on the
expensive project.
Give it another year or two and she was confident a family
would be living here and this ridiculous horror story would jump to a house a
few streets over.
Still, it was a bit haunting how the inside was left almost
untouched. It was as if the original family from 19-something (to her there was
nothing remotely interesting that could be considered life before 2001) had
simply left the house and all their belongings.
‘Probably was a bootlegger.’ She thought, moving around some
cobwebs. ‘Probably was discovered this haunted starving cell was actually a
place for, like, moonshine or something like that.’
So disappointing.
What sort of dare was this? This was the only way she could
join the dance squad? Walk through a gross old house? Really, hazing these days
was getting downright pathetic. At her old school they would have something far
more interesting involved.
Rebecca looked over her shoulder briefly, expecting some
members from the squad hiding behind curtains ready to jump and with a
“GOTCHA”. She should be very careful when going down to the basement. The
hazing might come in the form of locking her inside once she was down a few
steps.
Even though this place clearly wasn’t haunted she did not
want to spend the night in a place that would fill her hair with spiders and
have her on allergy medication for the next two weeks.
Coming up to where the basement door was, really how
untouched was this place if the location of the door was known, and looked at
it with a little apprehension.
“Alright girls.” She called out, looking around. “I’m going
down. Don’t lock me in. You do that and not only will I NOT join this squad I
will call the cops,” She took out her cellphone, jiggling the lit screen
around, “and give them your names. Wouldn’t look pretty on a college resume to
Yale if you have a night in jail, would it Kara?”
There was no word from the squad leader or any of the
others.
She smirked and stuffed it back into her pocket. Even if the
downstairs had no bars there was no way the girls would want to risk it. Kara,
with a K not a C, was about to graduate and there was no way she was going to
ever risk something like that.
Rebecca shrugged. This whole town seemed a little too
goody-goody to do something like that anyway. Yet another bit of evidence to
mark on the “This place isn’t haunted” bit.
She turned the old brass knob, it had a floral design
engraved in it, and tugged the door open. It creaked and groaned but didn’t put
up much of a fight. Her flashlight shined down the wooden stairs and into the dark abyss of the basement.
The sight of the stairs did make her gulp. They looked ready
to cave in with just one step. Years of termites gnawing on them left them
with holes and cracks. The basement itself, at least from what she could see,
appeared as normal and as creepy as any other basement in existence.
True, there were some factors that made it a bit creepier
than normal…
Her flashlight made old beakers and equipment gleam. She
could see a glass case, a more traditional location for medicine than a cell,
with tinted windows and old fashion medical tools lay askew.
She gripped on tightly to the frame of the door and tried to
peer over the staircase to see if there really was a cell underneath. But the
angle was too awkward. She simply could not see straight underneath unless she
wanted to risk making a face-plant with the concrete flooring.
Grumbling she got on her knees and used her trust light to
try and peer down between the many holes and cracks. Maybe if she can just take
a peek into this cell it would be enough and she could go home and watch some
Gossip Girl on Netflix.
She frowned, rubbing her eyes. She thought she saw a flash
of white somewhere in that empty space but that was probably just another speck
of irritable dust. It was ridiculous; there was so much of it everywhere.
Muttering a few unlady like words she picked herself back up,
dusting off her knees and took another look at the empty space down below. She
flinched. It was now starting to get unsettling. The stories and the loneliness
were starting to sink in.
Rebecca shook it off.
‘Don’t be ridiculous now.’ She fought off the chill wanting
to go down her spine. ‘You’re almost done. You go down, shine the light in the
cell, and come back out. Super simple.’
And a challenge she was not willing to hide from.
Gripping her phone tightly in her hand she took the first
step down the rickety stairs. Each one groaned and creaked, but luckily for her
held up. Whoever had made this house really did it well.
The concrete was under her feet in no time and Rebecca felt
foolish for being so weird before hand. It was just another creepy old
basement, nothing to be afraid of except for earning herself some tetanus if
she wasn’t careful of what she touched.
Looking back at where she came from she was very pleased to
see the door was still wide open and there was still some light from the
outside world peering in.
So far, so good. Just a few more steps, she shines the light
inside, and she can go home.
Excited to be free of this she moved over under the stairs.
Shinning her light up she was surprised at what she found.
What do you know? There actually was a cell! It fit right underneath the
stairs, shaped in an awkward triangle. There were rusted bars raising from the
ground and touching the sturdy wood above and there was a padlock. A heavy-duty old fashion padlock at that, with the keyhole in front of the lock rather than underneath.
She tilted her head, her heart skipped a beat, she didn’t
actually think there was truth to the rumor. Who would have a cell in their basement?
‘Maybe monkeys. They did a lot of sick animal experiments in
that time.’ But it seemed awfully big to hold monkeys. And there weren’t ropes
or bars inside so they could hang or swing off of. It made no sense those
things would be taken while every piece of furniture and painting, even a tea
set, was left upstairs.
Her stomach twisted a little.
One step closer. Another. And a last one.
She was finally at the bars and could see inside. And there
was nothing.
Rebecca let loose a breath of air she had no idea she had
been holding. Nothing appeared, as she had gotten closer. It really was nothing
more than a creepy cell in a creepy basement in a creepy house.
Rubbing her hand over her face, she groaned. ‘Stupid,
stupid, stupid. This whole mess was so ridiculous and stupid.’
Now done, she turned away. She was going to march back up
those stairs and out of this place with dignity and show those bimbos not to
challenge a city girl.
Then the putrid smell filled her nostrils.
Rebecca gagged and her hand went over her mouth and nose to
keep herself from breathing it in.
“What on earth?” She wheezed. “Did an air vent open up?” If
this was the smell that was so infamous she really could understand why no one
would want the home. It reeked!
A wheeze from behind made her fingers twitch.
‘Just the vent. Just the vent.’ She chanted to herself.
Turning around, feeling like she was trapped in a horror movie, she shone the
light back into the cell and discovered it was not as empty as she had left it
just seconds before.
Something was hunched in the corner. The body looked
somewhat human but with how crooked it was sitting she wasn’t so sure.
Her hand began to shake as she cleared her throat. “K-Kara?
You know this is pretty crappy of you to do, right?”
It paused a moment, making sure it heard her voice. Then
with weak movements began to turn to face her.
Rebecca nearly dropped the flashlight in horror at the
thing.
Whatever it was it was not human. It couldn’t be. Not
anymore.
The creature looked white in the light. Not Caucasian but
the actual color of snow. If she wanted she could count each and every bone it
had inside. Some of the bones were even protruding from the dried and crack
surface that was once called skin.
Up along its arms and legs had chunks of flesh missing. And
its face, its horrid face, had no lips; just gums, broken teeth, and a black
void of a mouth. The creature clearly had them at one point in its unfortunate
life but like the chunks from the arms and legs…
Bile was making its way up her throat. Any moment the
sausage chili she had for dinner would be all over her clothes and the ground.
She quickly covered her mouth taking a step back, her whole body shaking.
The head tilted back and forth slowly. Good god, she could
hear things popping as it did the movement.
With a disturbing gargle, or perhaps it was a wheeze; it
slowly began to turn towards her fully. The head kept tilting and the neck bones
kept popping.
It twisted and groaned, the bones snapping as it maneuvered
out between the bars like a disfigured cat. It awkwardly crawled out, dragging
its body behind it. There were no eyes, just black sockets—void of a bottom.
She prayed it couldn’t see her.
The creature stopped and began to sniff. It was a raspy
breath and she could picture the dried skin flapping around inside of it.
The tears couldn’t even fall and her legs were shaking so
bad. There was a feeling of dampness and in the back of her mind she was aware
she had just let control of her bladder.
It sniffed again and she felt her legs start to lose all of
their strength.
It could smell her.
How could it be real? How could the stories be real? The
story of a twisted doctor keeping people starving under his stairs for sick
experiments and how they had become so hungry they ate each other and parts of
their own body. How their hatred and hunger became so great they became trapped
in a sort of madness. And need for food. They always needed to eat something.
Rebecca shook her head.
No, no, no. People simply did not conjoin to become a
revenge seeking demon or devil or whatever this thing was. Nor was it possible
for them to then become so hungry they feasted the doctor’s family for days
only to not be sated.
Impossible. It was impossible.
This thing was not real. It was a sick joke. It was a sick
joke played by the girls. They were just better at hazing than she thought.
Another sniff. It was starting to drag itself towards her.
A whimper escaped her mouth as she stared upon the starved
one’s horrific face. That was no mask. This was not some cheap silicon and
fabric.
Then it let out a roar, it was silent and raspy but she
could feel it vibrating through her whole form. And with strength and speed it
should never possess crawled towards her, grabbing on to her leg and dug its
teeth into it.
Rebecca let out a howl of pain and kicked it away from her.
It didn’t do much good it ripped some of her skin with it. Blood was pouring
from her right calf, but the adrenalin that came with it pushed the pain out
and got her moving.
She was at the staircase in a second and was rushing up
towards it. A cry came out as bony hands grabbed on to her bleeding leg and
teeth were back into the skin, pulling her back.
Rebecca tried to pull herself out but the hold was painfully
tight and each pull just made the teeth sink in worse. Turning around, sobbing,
she kept trying to kick it. But it was too desperate, it had tasted her flesh
and now wanted more.
She couldn’t hold it back. As she screamed in horror again
all her dinner erupted from her mouth and on herself and the creature.
It stopped trying to consume her flesh and sniffed again. It
leaned down to it’s own hand that had the vomit over it, taking in a long whiff
before it licked it. Again it licked its own hand before it began to greedily
sink its teeth into its cracked flesh and feed.
As it feasted on her upchuck she clawed her way out of the door
and pushed herself up. She pumped her legs faster than ever in her life. She
couldn’t even feel the damage the creature did to her right leg.
She ran out of the house, past all the old homes of
Riverspring Drive, and never looked back.
Back in the basement, the starved one kept licking at the
mess, hungry for more who will venture in.
--
This is my first attempt at writing a horror-ghost tale. As you can see, not my strong suit. It takes a lot of skills and talent to tell a haunting spook. The pace, the grip, and the punchline. It is certainly a lot of difficulty. My hats to all who manage to do such a thing and those who are able to do things that spark an uproar of interest (those on CreepyPasta).
Hope this gave some a bit of entertainment!
Happy Halloween to all!
Now, do not get me wrong. I love guilty-pleasures and unrealistic romances like the next stereotyped girl. Give me a dark haired, sharp eye, possessive bad boy who has a heart and I am entertained. I do not, however, enjoy the fact we as readers are drowning in pretty much the same romantic formula in most every (tween+) book that's out there. Romance has been shadowed by one style and now people can assume romance as equalling older woman porn or shallow tween vampire fantasy.
