## The House at the End of the Lane (Scotts Version)

Post by LordNelson » Thu Mar 24, 2016 2:08 am

There is a creepy old house at the end of a creepy dead end lane not far from where I live. As usual there are many unsubstantiated rumors about the woman who lives there. The gossipy neighbors say that she is a deranged serial killer who didn’t get caught…the imaginative kids say she is an evil witch…many think that she just is just plain crazy. As far as I’m concerned she could be any one of those…or all three for that matter…but I know her as something different. She is my Aunt Carol.
My father’s sister is 10 years younger than him and I barely know her because for many years she lived in another city but a few years ago she moved here to that spooky looking house. When she was far away we never visited and since she has moved here my parents go to see her infrequently and always without me. When they return home my mom usually has a gift for me from my Aunt. Carol always seems to find toys and books or candies to send me. She seems nice enough but I can’t help having my suspicions after what I have heard said about her.
Now mom and dad are out of town for a few days and I am going to be staying with Carol while they are gone. I could easily stay home and take care of myself but mom said some nonsense about it being illegal to leave a 12 year old alone. So now it’s Monday afternoon and instead of walking home from school I’m walking to potentially meet my demise at the house of horrors.
As I arrive at the house it looks quiet and normal but I know that danger lurks within. I turn around to take another walk around the block trying to delay the inevitable fate that awaits me. Once I pass through that ominous door I’ll probably never be seen again…not alive anyways.

I only take a few steps before a car turns the corner in a cloud of dust and proceeds towards me at a high speed. It is driving down the middle of the road and wandering slightly from side to side occupying both lanes. As it gets closer I can see a woman driver who can barely see above the steering wheel. She is staring intensely directly ahead but her focus is not making the hurtling vehicle go any straighter.
She zooms by apparently not even noticing me standing at the side of the road. I turn to follow and find amusement in the fact that if my dad were driving so fast I would be hearing a colorful selection of her favorite cuss words from my mom. My amusement is short lived as my thoughts turn to the harsh reality that awaits me as I walk back towards the house.
Gears grind as she slams the transmission into park while the car is still moving. Then the motor inexplicably roars for a few seconds belching out a cloud of blue smoke before sputtering to a coughing halt. As I cautiously reach the end of the driveway the door opens with a creak and she gets out and looks at me.
After a puzzled moment she recognizes me. I don’t recognize her. I can’t remember the last time that I saw her and this is not what I pictured her looking like. She wore a black dress that was quite short with black stockings and a pair of shiny black pumps with short spiky heels. Her shoulder length light brown hair was tied back with a black lace ribbon and hanging from her ears were black pearl earrings that matched the beaded string around her neck. Her outfit told me what I needed to know…she was a witch.
Her wide lips, coated with bright red lipstick, broke into a big smile and her pale blue eyes had a sinister sparkle. ‘You must be Scott she purred in a smooth voice that was obviously meant to give me a false sense of security. ‘Come in, come in, it will be nice to have you here.’
We enter the house and vigilantly I sniff the air. I have heard that decaying bodies stink badly but this house only smells sickening sweet like the potpourri and scented candles that she must use to hide the horrible smell of her victims.
Then I remember the tale of Hansel and Gretel. The overwhelming scents were not to hide the smell of corpses, it was to hide the smell of roasting flesh. The reason that she was pleased to see me was that I was to be her next victim and I’m probably on tonight’s menu.
‘Your mom told me you have to do your homework before supper but first come sit with me and tell about yourself, I hardly know anything about you.’
I followed her through the kitchen and into the living room where she sat in an old arm chair and gestured for me to sit on a rickety wooden chair next to her. I hesitated for a moment to examine the seat for any sort of trap that it may have in store for me. I really had no idea what I was looking for and decided to sit in spite of my better instincts.
She quizzed me about whether I liked school and what sports I played and if I had a girlfriend. I answered her questions but remained alert for her to spring up from the creaky chair and grab me by the neck. My paranoia had me on edge but her seemingly sincere interest and easy manner began to put me at ease.
‘I have something for you’ she said ‘let me go get it.’ I should have expected it, she had gotten me a gift. This nice woman wasn’t so bad after all. She returned with a gift wrapped box and place it on the table in front of me. ‘Just stay in your seat’ she said ‘I’ll open it for you.’
She ripped off the colorful paper, opened the lid and reached in. She quickly turned to me with a coil of rope in her hand and before I could move she had it wrapped around me and the chair and I was tied down. She continued to bind me pulling my arms behind the chair and looping the rope around my wrists.
I wiggled and squirmed but the ropes were tight and I was caught. I began to beg her to let me go but she shoved some sort of cloth into my mouth and put a strip of tape over my lips to hold it in. ‘Chew on that sock for a while’ she said in a snarling voice ‘while I get the kitchen ready.’ She tied my ankles to the legs of the chair and left the room with a sinister cackling laugh.
To the sound of rattling pots and pans in the next room I struggled to free myself from the clutches of this evil hag but the ropes must have been enchanted because they wouldn’t release me. I knew now that my first instincts about her had been correct and that I should have ran fast and far but she was family and I wanted to give her the benefit of doubt.
She returned and untied my ankles and then the rope that held me to the chair. Gagged and with wrists bound she dragged me to the kitchen and pushed me down onto a chair at the table where she re-tied my ankles.
On the stove top two pots of water were coming to a boil, on the counter the electric frying pan was humming at it heated up and the oven glowed orange as electricity surged through the element. A cleaver was imbedded in the chopping block and a food processor stood next to it with its surgically sharp blades waiting to spin.
She was planning to waste nothing and was preparing to turn me into steaks and roasts and sausages. On the table next to me a collection of knives was fanned out. A dish towel was draped over something to conceal it and I could only imagine what sort of unspeakable device of horror waited there for me.
With a dramatic theatrical flourish she pulled off the cloth and I was stunned to see what was there.
‘I know what the kids say about me’ she said ‘and I thought I would have a bit of fun with you, I hope I didn’t scare you too much.’
Minutes later I was sitting with my Aunt Carol. I was unbound, ungagged and grateful that I hadn’t pissed my pants. Carol was now no longer a witch but my favorite Aunt and we sat in the kitchen with tall glasses of cold milk and the plate of Oreo cookies that had been under the cloth. They tasted like they hadn’t been tampered with, not that I knew what frogs tongues or bats toes tasted like anyways.
After half a dozen of the tasty treats I wasn’t turning into a mindless zombie or paralyzed like a rotting corpse and had to concede that maybe she wasn’t a nasty witch after all… maybe just a good witch who likes eating cookies more than eating brains.
As she sent me to do my homework I said ‘That was a fun, can we do it again, maybe tomorrow?’
‘Sure we can do again’ she replied ‘how about tonight?’

### Re: The House at the End of the Lane (Scotts Version)

Post by Naughty boy » Thu Mar 24, 2016 4:35 am

A very good read! I thoroughly enjoyed this story. Very well thought out and written. Thank you ever so much for writing this story!

### Re: The House at the End of the Lane (Scotts Version)

Post by riplord » Sun Mar 27, 2016 3:11 pm

Great Story. Enjoyed it.