Day 1
Jim looks up from the sofa watching Jenna close the front door. "Where have you been?"

"In the village. Look what I found." She opens a book to a certain page and holds it under his nose.

"Psychology, huh? So, what side of the rainbow are we on today?"

Jenna points out a certain passage in the book. (reads out loud)
"Events commonly interpreted as
haunting apparitions often result
from psychic disharmonies or
undigested traumatic ordeals..."

"Jenna, what are you trying to prove, anyway? That we've created ourselves some kind of ghost? Come on!”

"It's just a feeling. Don't you sense it, too?"

"What am I supposed to sense?"

"The house - something just feels wrong here..."

"I thought we decided together to build up something new here. But oddly, you seem to have changed your mind."

"I haven't changed my mind Jim. It's just that ever since we bought this house strange things have been happening. I just worry, ya know?"

"The only thing I know is that I'm not getting any work done. Ring a bell Jenn? Remember my book, my deadline? Let's just try to work things out, okay?"

Jennifer picks up her book, then looks at Jim. "I guess..."

Day 2
Jim stops at the base of the stairway turning around and looking at Jenna. "What now? I have to get back to work."
He starts up the staircase as Jenna follows.

“Jim, we need to talk. I've done some more research. This lovely house of ours has a history of murder cases."

Reaching the second floor he turns down the hallway, still ignoring her.

"Anyone who has ever lived in this house either quickly moved back out, or fell victim to strange accidents, or ended up killing each other...are you listening to me?”

"No," entering his office sitting down at his desk and immediately starting to type.

"I know you don't believe me, but at least hear me out. Don't tell me you haven't noticed that we've been going through some strange changes since we moved here! We hardly talk to each other any more, you're writing like a madman and I'm having these visions."

Jim ignores her and continues his typing.

Jenna slams some articles she had researched on his keyboard. "Here, look at these! Did you know that our house is built right on a spot where people from a prison camp were executed during the 18th century? They simply threw the convicts into the moors, alive."
Jim shakes his head. He smiles and shoves the articles aside.

"During that time this whole area was a prison camp."

"So what's your point?"

"This house, the whole damned area around here is one mass grave...now you might call me crazy, but there is something very haunting about the place."

"Okay, so the house has a history and there might still be a couple of corpses in the moors. What the hell are you trying to say? Come on! Spit it out!"

Jenna twists around. "It's like... a sickness! And it's gotten into our heads."

"Will you finally cut it out? Just in case you haven't noticed, I am trying to finish a book here. And maybe - even with your birdbrains - you can figure it's a pretty tough job. So why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Damn it, look at you! Don't you see what's happening with you? We need to get out of here, don't you understand? Out of this house!"

Jim continues to write.

"To hell with your damned work!" In a rash action, she suddenly pushes his laptop off the desk.

Jim jumps up from his chair and grabs Jenna by the throat and pushes her against the wall. She can hardly breathe. She is about to choke. Just in time, Jim lets go as she gasps for air.
Jim doesn't seem to care. He sets the laptop back onto the table and gets back to work.

Jenna running scared drags herself out of the room. The door to the study falls shut behind her. The lock turns on the door unexpectedly. Leaning against the wall, she slides down to the floor and starts to cry, feeling hopeless.

"Jim!.. oh my God... what's happening? It's coming out of the walls..." while putrid mud collapses the second floor walls pouring over the entire floor. Corpses fill the hallway slowly crawling towards Jenna. She screams. "Jim! Help me...please," coughing from the fumes of the acid mud. "Jim!"

Silence.

Slowly opening the door of his office Jim looks down the hallway. "Guess she went downstairs. No matter. Not my problem," shutting the door, only to swing open again. "Damn old doors," leaning down to straighten the old hinge. Instantly, the door flew inwards knocking him across the room. There was a sudden rumbling in the walls that began to seep a rancid smell of something dead. The lights broke into darkness. Jim backs up against the window ledge. "Omg...No! Please! Get away!" The glass in the window broke as Jim fell into the dark...his screams slowly fading into silence.

Next morning.

The lock of the front door turned open. Mrs. Gates, the real estate agent stepped into the hallway walking towards the stairs. She picked up the telephone on a side table and dialed the operator.
"Hello Janet...yes, I was just checking if the phone was working. I couldn't get through last night. What? Yes, I understand. Thanks," hanging up the receiver.

'Doesn't seem like anyone's here," thinking to herself. "Better check the upstairs," taking hold of the railing up to the second floor. "Seems alright," looking down the hallway. "Mrs. Stevens?" Calling out. "Anyone here? Mr. Stevens?" A rumbling noise was faintly heard down the hallway. The second bedroom door slowly opened.
Hesitating, then moving forward down the hall, she stops short of the bedroom. "What's that smell?"

Taking a few steps towards the bedroom door she paused, then looked around into the room. It was dark and smelled of rotting fresh. There was movement in the back corner of the room. A dark something arcs out of the wall for a short moment grabbing Mrs. Gates. The door slams shut.
● Story by Abbie Stewart.