Burning Man

The house seemed to pulse as the five of us made our way down the never-ending hallway. The crystal doorknobs would throb, as if alive with a heartbeat, when we dared to grip the cool glass. With curiosity burning in the back of our skulls, we failed at every door, every chest, and every enclosed space to find any clue as to why this mysterious mansion was so quickly abandoned. My team and I have debunked every ghost story in the Midwest. We all agreed that after we blow the candles out at the Hansen’s Manner, we would pack up our heat detectors, video cameras, and motion sensors. For good. This last case was going to pay for all our unfortunate circumstances. Medical bills and school loans were going to be a thing of the past when we cleaned out the Hansen’s skeletons.

This eight-bedroom, 12 bathroom monstrosity was erected in 1912. Consuming 15,000 square feet of mystery and darkness, the house is surrounded by a wasteland of decaying flowers and trees. The rather large area of rot started precisely at the property line and continued exactly fifty acres in circumference. Surely the Hansen’s hired skilled gardeners and landscapers to care for the once lush green Garden of Eden, I thought. But right now, the land looks like its life was sucked through the roots and disappeared right along with the Hansens. The police once followed a tip that lead them to the thorns and mud in search of the four children and their parents. Alas, no Hansen skeletons were discovered in the muck.

The structure at 529 Robert Lane continued to moan and groan with every new footstep my team and I took. We stepped carefully, but with confidence. Our flashlights bouncing off the reflective surfaces of windows and picture frames guided us deeper into the belly of the beast. Our usual plan of action consisted of doing a quick tour and then proceed with setting up video and sound equipment all around the property. A central location would then be established, where we would be able to observe the goings on in the “haunted house.” Ghosts, demons, poltergeists were only in our vocabulary so we could rationally explain the creaks and shrieks that rattled the poor family residing in the home. We would be in and out before the sun rose the next morning. However, this time we have yet to finish our self-guided tour. Haven’t we been here for hours already? That cracked window looks familiar. We were stumbling through the dark in an abandoned maze of locked doors and long corridors.

I could feel my colleagues becoming more and more uneasy. Halting at yet another fork on the carpet, we collapsed against the walls simultaneously. I reached into my pack and brought out a Milky-Way and the blueprints to the house. Sinking my teeth into that little slice of heaven, I began to go over our original route. Okay, through the main doors, up the stairs and to the left. Passed the library and the grand hall, around the corner and—That’s it. That is all we’ve walked through. No, no. Up the stairs. Passed the—I glance around at my teammates. They haven’t noticed my panic. Beads of sweat slide down my temple as I looked ahead of us. According to the map, the family’s dining room should be down the hallway on our right. It should be down one hallway on our right. One.

We were lost. Absolutely lost. How did this happen? Did we even pass the library? I couldn’t remember. I couldn’t remember anything after I discovered that I made a mistake. My team depends on me, and I let them down. My heart starts to race. Or is that the house’s heartbeat I hear? Shoving my half-eaten candy bar in the side pocket of my backpack, I stood up and startled my comrades. Let’s retrace our steps. I’ll head back down this hallway and lead us to the main door. We’ll just start over. I could feel their eyes second-guessing my leadership. How dare they. I’m the one who got them noticed. I’m the one who sticks his neck out for the team’s success. Pressing my boot harder into each step forced small puffs of dust to awaken, then settle back into the veins of the monster.

The map did not leave my eyesight, but nothing looked familiar. The blueprints seemed outdated and I must have gotten turned around again. After wiping sweat off my brow with the back of my sleeve, I grabbed my flashlight and started whipping it around; hoping that it would literally shed some light on this confusing place. The room I found myself in was massive. This doesn’t make sense. The wallpaper was so moldy and torn that I couldn’t make out the design. The carpet in this room looked like it had been stretched so far past capacity, that the gold fringes have been unraveled and frayed beyond recognition.

I was turning around so fast that I almost missed the one thing that was vastly out of place. The woodwork. The doorframes seem to be the only beauty left in this cold pit of Hell. My breathing was so loud that my hand involuntarily swooped up and captured my once controlled breath. Now a sweaty, shaky mess, I walked up to the nearest door. The wood looked hand carved. Beautiful techniques twisted and turned into such detail. I traced my fingertips along the rose petals. Almost smelling the intoxicating scent, I felt electricity jump from the nervous system of the house to my hand. I breathed deep.

Click.

The door in front of me opened. The hairs on my neck stood up as I felt my team huddled close. Only my beam of light shown into the doorway. The others’ batteries must have died. The first room it allowed me to enter was an office. Caked in dust, a desk and a fireplace were the only two things occupying the room other than books and papers laid strewn about. I could feel them around me. One of my mates was pulling on my shirt while another one was breathing in my ear. The hot breath made me shiver with anticipation as we inched closer and closer yet to the writing desk. My eyes were opened as wide as they could go, but I could barely see what was right in front of me. The flashlight was barely illuminating the yellowing piece of lined paper.

The forces have overcome those who dwell in this home.

Nay, in this demon.

May God have mercy.

Something caught my eye. The flashlight darted up to reveal a dark figure looming near the fireplace. I heard what sounded like matches being struck. Determining it was one of my idiot companions, I lumbered across the room with half a mind to strike him for scaring me like that when I noticed that the sound was not of striking matches, but of laughter. A spine-chilling cackle was coming from the dark figure in front of me. I could see the slight movement from him as the cackling grew louder and louder, the voice getting deeper with every decibel. I peeled my eyes away from the scene, in hopes of finding my teammates equally frightened faces staring blankly at me. I turned on my heel. My flashlight went out. The cackling stopped. The air went stale, then metallic. I know that smell. What is it? It’s metallic, and somewhat sweet. Then it hit me.

Blood.

I screamed, but nothing. I screamed again. I screamed until my eyes were going to pop out of my sockets. I screamed until my trembling hands dropped the flashlight, which didn’t make a noise when it hit the wood floor. Flickering on and off, it showed me flashes of dark tendrils snaking up the wall. Dark, smoky tentacles loomed over my head and slowly engulfed me. My breathing was restricted, and I was unable to see my hands in front of my face. Whenever this thing licked my skin, lapped up my tears streaming down my face, the smell of blood was replaced by the rancid odor of my own burning flesh. Suffocating. Burning alive. This was how I was going to die. Everything came crashing down in the matter of hours. My whole life’s work, shattered. As I continued to struggle, as I continued to burn, the thick black smoke started to cackle the very same cackle I had heard before…

At last, I could hear my own blood curdling scream. Alone.

The house seemed to pulse as the five of us made our way down the never-ending hallway…