Page 95 of The Stranger Upstairs
“I read about Black Wood House,” the other man said slowly. “Four dead bodies in fifty years. Horrible.”
The realtor hesitated. “Yeah” he said. “Four.”
Five, actually. There was that nasty business with one of the demolishers. Poor bloke was found in the Black Wood kitchen, head smashed in. No charges were ever laid. The realtor didn’t tell him that either.
“Good luck, yeah?” the realtor said to the new owner. “You look after yourself.”
“Of course,” the man said shortly, giving the realtor a strange look.
The realtor waved him off, thinking about the dead women. Emily Thompson and Amanda Vale. Both showed signs of carbon-monoxide poisoning. Likely even Susan and Bill Campbell were poisoned by the house. But they couldn’t very well exhume their bodies after they’d been rotting in the ground for so long.
The strange thing was, the house had been inspected thoroughly, and they couldn’t find a source for the leak. The chimney was unblocked, the attic walls clean. No telltale signs of a leak anywhere. No soot, no smoke, nothing. You’d swear the house was doing it on purpose. You’d swear the house wanted to be left alone. Undisturbed.
You’d swear it was killing off anyone it could.
After that mess with the demolishers, the town finally gave up and left Black Wood to rot. Nobody stepped foot there anyway. Except the occasional podcaster, snapping pictures on their iPhone and posing soberly at the boarded-up front door.
He kicks at the door, swearing.
And the house roars,Get out.Get out, get out, get out!
But he does not hear. He does not listen.
He’s frenzied now, panting and sweating and kicking the front door until it bursts open.
Silence.
He stands breathless at the front door, sucking in the dirty, stale air. He steps inside, and his wife and daughter reluctantly follow.
The house speaks a final time.You’re going to pay for that.
He freezes in the dark.
“Daddy,” Beth cries, latching on to his arm. “I’m scared!”
“It’s okay,” he whispers hoarsely, pulling her to him, eyes darting around the dark house in alarm. He stands protectively in front of his terrified wife, shielding her trembling body with his. “It’s okay…”
But it’s not. Because a horrible sound rings out in the darkness. An echo of laughter so deep, he swears it’s coming from the foundation of the house itself.
And then, without anyone touching it, the door slams shut behind them.
