Shelter

“This was never part of the plan.”

The farmhouse loomed in the distance, barely visible through the downpour. Rain dripped down her face as Sophie shivered and looked at the others, pleadingly. All three had resolve written across their faces.

A lump formed in her throat, worse than when Jack informed them that they were lost. She struggled to swallow as she watched her friends begin to sludge their way towards the silhouetted building in the distance. Within seconds, their flashlights were dimming through the lashings of rain as the storm engulfed them.

For an instant, a flicker of light reflected in the upstairs window of the farmhouse. Thunder roared above her.

Stepping out from the shelter of the treeline into the field, Sophie gasped as the waterlogged grass filled her boots with icy water.

“Wait for me!” She shouted; her voice lost in the wind.

*

No one answered as Jack pounded on the door. At this time of night, with the storm to contend with, it would be hard for anyone to hear their attempts to seek shelter. Sophie huddled close to Emma; the storm clawing at their clothes. The temperature was dropping quickly.

Jack stepped away from the door as Luke’s distant voice carried over the side of the house.

“Hey guys! I found a way in!”

Sophie shuddered with relief. With a squelch, they unstuck their shoes from the puddle of mud and began to slug their way across the muddy field towards his voice.

For a split second, lightning illuminated their surroundings. A glint to Jack's left caught his attention. An old pick-up truck lay disused in the brush, left to rust in the elements, its tyres torn to shreds, windshield caved inwards. A black shadow inside stopped Jack in his tracks as his breath caught, and he was plunged back into the darkness. Oblivious, the girls kept walking.

Jack froze, eyes glued on the truck. Slowly, he raised his torch to the window. Nothing but faded leather upholstery stared back at him. A chill slithered down his spine as thunder roared above, making him flinch. He shook himself and hurried to catch up with the others.

*

Sophie trembled as Emma passed her a blanket before disappearing to explore the ground floor of the house. They had hung their belongings over chairs and stationed them near the fireplace to dry as the boys began searching for items to burn.

Without the howling wind, Sophie could finally hear herself think as she wiped the rain from her face. After it had become apparent that Luke had smashed a pane of glass in the back door of the kitchen to give him room to slide a deadbolt across and open it, she had only agreed to enter under the proviso that they didn’t touch anything. However, it soon became clear if they wanted heat, then that wouldn’t be an option. Especially as the power was out.

Relief swept through the room as Jack produced a packet of matches and began lighting candles around the living room and kitchen - a welcome change from the weak flickering beams of their torches.

The farmhouse was bigger than expected, full of mismatched, outdated furniture and a thick layer of dust. Seemingly abandoned, yet the furniture remained. Luke had suggested perhaps it had been a holiday home, but Sophie couldn’t shake the feeling that something didn’t feel right.

“Found something!” Emma’s voice carried from the kitchen. “You’ve got to see this.”

Sophie groaned as she pushed herself up and hurried into the dimly lit kitchen.

Emma stood next to a kitchen island, shining her torch onto a withered wooden door. A large, open deadbolt braced the outside.

“Found the pantry…” Emma muttered anxiously.

Sophie opened it, shining the light on the mostly empty shelves inside as the boys joined them.

Frowning, she scanned the small room, lurching backwards.

Jack looked over her shoulder as Luke barged past.

“Is that a chain? “Luke gasped, bending down and picking up large metal links. “Holy shit, it’s anchored to the floor.” The grating of metal on metal resonated around the room as lightning flashed outside.

“And a bucket,” said Jack, kicking it over.

Sophie shone her light on the inside of the door.

“Well, this just got a lot fucking creepier,” Jack muttered. All four torches focused on the wooden planks. Hundreds of splintered indents decorated the inside. Some deeper than others, many splattered with a crusty, dry brown residue.

“Are those scratch marks?” Emma asked as her face flushed. “Tell me a person didn’t fucking make those.”

“With a lock on the outside of the door?” Sophie muttered quietly. She’d known this was a bad idea, but as usual, no one had listened to her. “We can’t stay here.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Luke stated, matter-of-factly. As if to back up his words, thunder rumbled above them.

“Come on, Jack. Let’s see if we can get the fire going.”

*

An hour later, the girls waited patiently in an empty living room. Ten minutes had passed since the boys had left in search of firewood, insisting they check a small outhouse they had passed on their way in.

Both girls had argued, not wanting to be left alone in the shadows of the strange house. Their worries had fallen on deaf ears as Jack explained they had burned through nearly every newspaper and magazine they could find. The girls had given in. After being out in the bitter wind, they all valued the warmth too much.

Sophie gazed at the dwindling fire, warming her hands, as Emma paced the room, impatiently.

“Whose house do you think this is?” Sophie questioned.

“Some creepy fuck, that’s for sure.” Emma stopped at one of the many framed paintings. “Have you seen this?”

Emma gestured to the picture as Sophie joined her. Sophie had seen many paintings similar to this one in her life. The countryside, the sunset, the barn with children playing outside. They seemed to be sold in abundance at boot sales and old antique shops. At one time or another, it seemed as though everyone had something similar in their house.

Sophie shrugged. “I don’t get it?”

“Look at the kids. This little girl is missing an arm, and her dress is splattered with red stains. Same with the little boy over there, and his eyes are scratched out.” Emma mumbled as she leaned closer.

“What the heck?” Sophie frowned as the painting took on a whole new light.

“There’s more over here.” Sophie followed Emma hesitantly.

“Here,” Emma pointed to a smaller picture. A woman, blindfolded, sat on a bench next to a well, breastfeeding a bundle of bloodied red rags. Faint pink patches oozed through her blindfold.

“What the -” Sophie began, but a noise silenced her. A floorboard creaked above them. Both girls slowly craned their heads to look at the ceiling. The weak crackling of the fire and the rain pummelling the window was greeted by nothing but eerie silence.

Emma frowned, shaking her head. Another creak from above them, faint but unmistakable. A small amount of plaster crumbled from the ceiling. Sophie opened her mouth to scream, but Emma hushed her, grabbing her arm and pulling her backwards. Sophie whimpered as Emma snatched up a poker from the fireplace.

Frozen, they stared up at the ceiling. Another floorboard groaned above the doorframe leading to the front door. Sophie cursed herself for not being brave enough to learn the layout of the house. Thunder boomed, and the house trembled.

The rain grew suddenly louder, the storm briefly inside. A loud thud resonated as the boys reappeared, windswept and wet, arms full of wood.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you two?” Jack asked, puzzled.

“There’s someone upstairs,” Emma whispered.

*

Emma cowered behind Jack as they ascended the stairs as a group, all four torches twitching nervously in their hands. Luke took the lead as each stair creaked loudly. He had laughed at first, hearing the rushed recount of what they had heard, but after their insistent pleading as the girls had rushed to gather their belongings, the boys had decided to humour them.

As they traversed the old staircase in the dark with Sophie at the rear, she noticed Luke was unusually quiet. Squeezing Emma’s hand, every so often she turned and shone the light back behind her, making sure no one was sneaking up the stairs behind them.

After what seemed like an age, they finally reached the landing. A large window at the end of the hallway shone little light upon the floor. Luke flashed his torch up one way and then the other as the others gathered at the top of the stairs behind him.

“We split up.” The words sounded like a punchline as they hovered in the air.

“Like fuck we do,” stated Emma. Sophie’s stomach dropped as Emma yanked her hand out of her grasp and slid it into Jack’s. “We’ll go in pairs.”

“Fine. I’m sure there’s no one here anyway. You take the three doors on the right.”

After a moment of hesitation, Luke began to stride up the hallway towards the window as Jack turned the other way and headed into the darkness, Emma glued to his side.

Sophie hurried after Luke, her heart hammering as her bare feet scratched against the old carpet, wishing they had taken the time to put their shoes back on, no matter how wet.

As they reached the first of two doors, Luke pushed it inwards. Sophie held her breath, listening intently as it creaked and groaned.

The room inside was bare, other than a single unmade bed and peeling wallpaper. Sophie hovered by the doorway as Luke made quick work of checking under it - tutting as if disappointed that Michael Myers wasn’t waiting there to surprise him. With a huff, he pushed past Sophie and back into the hallway and pushed open the other door.

This bedroom was large. Stained sheets adorned an old metal bedframe in the middle of the room, surrounded by chests of drawers, a large wardrobe, and a worn Victorian dresser. Sophie scanned the room with her torch as Luke checked under the bed and pulled open the doors to the empty wardrobe. Satisfied the room was empty, Luke started opening drawers and rummaging through them.

“Don’t do that,” hissed Sophie. Her torch hit the dresser mirror opposite and bounced the light back, making her jump at her own reflection. She frowned as multiple, fractured versions of herself gleamed back at her at different angles.

“Why not?” asked Luke, undeterred as he closed one drawer and yanked open the next.

Sophie walked nervously towards the mirror, her reflection becoming larger and the light brighter until she reached the dresser. She frowned as she reached out and touched the glass. The top right corner was smashed in a circular pattern. Sophie slid onto the stool in front of it. The impact in the crater of glass was head height. Something small was stuck in the shards. She reached for it and, with a tug, pulled it out of the fractured glass.

“Fuck!” Sophie bolted upright, knocking the stool to the floor as she spun around. “Hair. It’s fucking hair,” she gasped, dropping it to the floor. Luke shone his torch over it, taking in the strands, still attached to a small clump of something red. The colour drained from his face.

“Can we get the fuck out of here now?” Sophie begged.

Luke hesitated. For the first time since they’d arrived at the farmhouse, he seemed unsure of himself. “Let’s find the others,” he mumbled.

Sophie had to jog to keep up with him as they darted back out into the hallway and headed down the dark corridor towards the stairs. Luke thrust out his arm, stopping Sophie dead in her tracks.

At the other end of the hallway, a torch lay on the floor, rolling slightly. All three doors surrounding it were open, but no light came from any of them.

Sophie’s voice caught in her throat. They were ten feet from the stairs.

“Guys?” Called Luke, cautiously stepping forward as Sophie gripped his arm. “Jack? Emma?!”

No one answered.

*

Luke swore under his breath as they reached the top of the stairs, quickly shining his light down them before directing it back onto the abandoned torch.

“Sophie, go downstairs,” he ordered quietly. Sophie started to protest, but only a squeak came out. “Now,” he mouthed. Sophie tried, but her legs wouldn’t move.

She gripped the stair rail as her heart hammered painfully. Luke held his hand out behind him, signalling for her to stay back as he crept forward.

Suddenly, a sharp, scraping came from one of the rooms, - a high-pitched, repetitive, metallic friction. Heavy footsteps quickly followed.

The blade came into view first, its razor-sharp edge glinting in the torchlight as a hooded figure rounded the doorway at the end of the hall. The hood concealed most of his face, and a long, bloodied beard adorned the front of the stranger’s slick, black coat. He faced them, standing motionless, lit up by the beam from the torch.

Sophie’s eyes grew wide as terror took over her body; her limbs instantly numb as she willed herself to move, but her feet felt rooted to the floor.

It was only when the figure sprinted at Luke, heavy boots smashing on the floor, leaving bloodied footprints with every step, that the spell broke.

Luke braced himself for impact, the iron poker held high above his head. Sophie took the stairs two at a time. Her legs felt like weighted jelly as she stumbled and staggered. A loud crash from above told her the two men had collided, shaking the stairs. Sophie whimpered as sweat stung her eyes, willing her legs not to give way as she descended.

Her feet barely touched the carpet when the two men came tumbling down in a heap. Throwing herself sideways, she just missed being flattened as they crashed into the front door with a wet crunch.

Hyperventilating, Sophie scrambled to her feet. She dared a look towards them, willing Luke to move but knowing he wouldn’t. Blood glinted from the splintered bone slicking out of his neck, oozing thick globs of red onto the figure beneath him. Luke’s body lurched sideways as the large man heaved himself to his feet, pulling the blade from Luke’s stomach with a squelching tug.

Sophie was already running, smashing into the dining table, and winding herself as she traversed the back of the house in a blind panic.

Time seemed to slow as she grabbed at chairs and hurled them behind her without looking back, determined to keep her balance. A swoosh whipped behind her, breeze wafting past her head.

There was no time to process the knife missing her by millimetres as it sliced through the air. Sophie ran with her hands out in front of her, throwing anything she could in her wake, knocking down furniture as she sprinted. A gruff grunt and tumble echoed behind her. She prayed she’d gained a couple of seconds.

Sophie grabbed a doorframe and swung herself into the next room, graced by dim candlelight. She was back in the kitchen as the heavy footfall resumed behind her.

Ducking behind the kitchen island, she clamped her hands over her mouth as her chest wracked, desperate for air.

She could tell by the waft of the candles that he had entered. His steps fast and purposeful as he strode into the room, pausing briefly by the back door. Sophie could hear a soft splatter as the contents of Luke’s abdomen dripped from his knife onto the porcelain tiles. She closed her eyes, willing herself not to breathe as a warmth spread between her legs and down her thighs.

The heavy boots thumped across the room, growing more distant as the second passed.

Sophie opened her eyes, hyperventilating. Legs weak and shaking, she crawled along the side of the island, towards the back door.

She listened anxiously, struggling to hear over the pounding of her heart. The heavy groan of the stairs was unmistakable, dust shaking from the rafters. Springing to her feet, Sophie made a beeline for the door. Glass from the shattered pane sliced at the bottom of her feet as she tried to turn the handle. It didn’t budge.

Breathing heavily, Sophie cursed, fumbling with the deadbolt, sliding it across. She heaved on the handle once more, rattling the door, but it didn’t open.

Footsteps thundered above as the stairs groaned. Sophie whimpered as the house shook. Grasping the door handle for dear life, she pulled with all her strength. The door stood firm as the footsteps reached the hallway.

Screaming, she clambered backwards, slipping on her own blood as the hooded figure rounded the corner. Sophie shimmied across the floor, desperate to find traction with her bare, bloodied feet as he entered, looming in the doorway, watching her struggle. Scrambling to her knees, she threw herself through the nearest doorway as his large boots approached. Slamming the door shut as she plunged herself into darkness. Her heart threatened to explode as the footsteps stopped outside. She held the door closed as it rattled violently.

Sophie screamed, knocking something over with her foot. The metallic sound of a bucket rolling resonated in the darkness.

She was in the pantry.

On the outside of the door, metal scraped and clunked as the deadbolt slid into place.