The House on the Hill
The House on the Hill Posted In: Blog, Short Stories
Sara and her family moved into Vance Falls in early September. It was a small, rural town with one main road. Along this road was the town’s only supermarket, restaurants, shops, banks and other official offices including the police station and post office. Coming from a big city Sara knew that she would be bored living here. There was nothing for kids her age to do except for activities that her new primary school offered. Little did she know was that on a hill, just outside of town, was an old house that everyone believed to be haunted.
It was two days before Halloween when one of her new friends, Donna, asked her if she knew about the house. Sara had not heard about it but was intrigued, finally a bit of excitement and just before Halloween too. Not that she believed in ghosts but it was something to do. The next day after school she set of to visit the house on the hill. As she pushed through the bushes that covered the path up the hill, her heart began to beat faster from the anticipation of what she might find at the top. She was almost there when she had to stop to catch her breath. There was an eerie silence in the air. Sara did not hear any birds or insects nor did she see any butterflies flitting among the wild flowers growing all around her. She continued her trek up the hill and a few minutes later the parted the last bit of grass and had her first look at the two storey, wooden house. It was apparent that no one had lived in this house for a long time. The wooden front porch had fallen half way down and the window shutters hung loosely from the last remaining nails which held them in place. The galvanize on parts of the roof had rotted and fallen off exposing the inside of the house to the elements. Still Sara did not see anything to be afraid of. It just looked like an old, wooden house that was left to fall apart. She was not afraid, at least not until she walked to the backyard.
Laid out in front of her were eight tombstones, each with an inscription of the person who died and the year. As she read them she realized they all belonged to several generations of the same family. Why would anyone want to live in a house with bodies buried in the backyard? She shuddered and made her way back to the front. Taking a deep breath to clam her racing heart, she made her way up the dilapidated stairs to the front down. She turned the door knob with a shaky hand and stepped inside. Cobwebs stretched across whatever was left of the ceiling. Streaks of sunlight passed through the broken windows but the house was still dark with the musty smell of damp, rotting wood.
Bang! Sara jumped. She looked around only to realize it was the front door slamming shut with the breeze. She cautiously ventured further inside. She heard voices coming from the kitchen. Maybe some of the other kids had come to explore the house as well. She made her way there but as she pushed the swing door open the voices stopped. There was no one in the kitchen. Her heart was beating faster and faster when she heard laughter coming from upstairs. She followed the sound of the laughter but again no one was there. Suddenly she heard a blood curdling scream coming from the bedroom closet. Before the screaming stopped, the banging on the walls started. Sara felt the walls closing in on her.
She yanked the bedroom door open and raced for the stairs. She could feel someone behind her, gently tugging at her long hair but she was too terrified to look back. She pelted down the stairs, out the front door and down the hill. She did not stop running until she was back in town.
Sara now believed in ghosts and that house on the hill was definitely haunted.
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