Trophies of the past

Mark sat on the top step of the staircase leading up to his porch, the light drizzle of mid-October rain beginning to patter onto the ground around him. A chilled breeze passed through the air, causing Mark to shiver for just a moment. His eyes continuously darted from one end of the street to another, waiting for her car to arrive. Just as he was looking down the western end of the street, the familiar beat up red of Jess's '97 convertible turned his way and began approaching.

"Finally," Mark sighed, standing up and making his way down the steps to the curb. The car passed by and whipped around, pulling up to the curb just in front of Mark. Through the window, he could see Jess quickly clearing clutter off of the passenger seat before he made his way inside. As he opened the door, the light sound of pop music drifted past, along with the smell of coffee.

"Hey buddy! You ready?" Jess asked, a bright smile creeping across her face.

Mark shut the door and sighed again, shooting Jess a pained look.

"If I had known beforehand what you were dragging me into, I wouldn't have come. I feel like I've been duped."

Jess put on her best pouty face before pulling away from the curb, heading back down the street she came from. The rain was slowly starting to pick up, the drum of raindrops on the windshield intermittently interrupted by the squeaking of the windshield wipers.

"I know haunted houses aren't your thing, but I promise it's not that bad. Plus we'll have James and Trisha to keep us company! I did promise I would bring James along," she added, giving Mark an all-to-knowing look. Mark could feel his face flush slightly, and he waved her gaze away.

"Yeah, whatever, how long is this stupid haunted house again?"

Jess smiled and patted Mark's arm.

"No more than half an hour, I promise," she said, raising her arm in a sarcastic boy scout salute. Mark rolled his eyes and shrugged, accepting that he was stuck into this no matter what. The rain had now become a steady downpour, and the wipers were having a hard time keeping visibility for the two of them. After about twenty minutes of driving, Jess pulled off the main road onto another residential street, parking in front of a large, dilapidated house. Two other figures could be seen standing in the front lawn, umbrellas open wide, and as the car pulled up they approached. Mark's door opened first, and he could see James smiling at him with his arm outstretched.

"Hey man! Glad you could come with us," James said, taking Mark's hand and pulling him out of the car.

"It's no biggie," Mark murmured, his face heating up once more. He watched as Trisha followed James' lead and opened the driver side door for Jess, who happily accepted the hand and cover from the rain. After locking the car, Jess led everyone to the front porch of the house. Getting a better look at it, Mark noted that the house must have been over fifty years old; the vines creeping up the side, the cracked and peeling paint, and the unkempt grass that grew all around them. He commended the company for making everything look authentic, though Mark also supposed that allowing time to pass for aesthetic effect isn't that difficult. As Jess took her place on the front porch, Mark voiced the question plaguing his mind.

"So what company runs this place?" Mark asked, peering up at the second floor windows.

There was a brief moment of silence, with Jess, James and Trisha looking at each other a bit sheepishly. Mark watched them and then a slow realization took hold.

"You have got to be kidding," he started, immediately turning around.

"No no no!" Jess yelled, rushing down in front of Mark. "I know, I know, I'm sorry I tricked you, but we've been dying to check this place out for months now. Look at it this way, since it's not a company run haunted house, there won't be any jump scares!"

Mark breathed heavily; he could already feel his heart racing from fear and anxiety. As he opened his mouth to say something, a voice from behind him make him pause.

"Please, Mark?" James said. "I know it's hard for you but I would feel much more comfortable if I had you in there with me."

Mark turned around at this to see James, slightly pink in the cheeks, with an intense look in his eyes. Mark looked back at Jess, his own cheeks once again burned crimson, and sighed again.

"I suppose, if we have this many people, it won't be so bad," Mark started, receiving a whooping of cheers from the other three. As Jess made her way back to the porch, he couldn't help but smile a little. Even if they tricked him into exploring an abandoned house, the fact that they appreciated his company enough to find it a comfort was a warming idea indeed. Back at her makeshift stage, Jess began.

"Long ago, in the distant year of 1950, an old man bought this house. It was to be his showcase house, a place to gather his trophies and relics from various hunts. After twenty years of collecting, the man began to see strange things. Visions, nightmares, hallucinations. They say he abandoned the house in 1970, and no one who has ever entered has returned."

Jess gave the last sentence an eerie 'oooh' sound at the end of it, sending a similar wave of 'oooh' between James and Trisha. Mark just rolled his eyes. Jess continued.

"The last thing anyone heard from him was that 'it was the bull, its burning fiery eyes, I can never forget them!' before he left."

As she said that, Jess shifted slightly to the left and gestured towards the entrance. The entrance, a surprisingly well kept oak textured double door, was framed in the center by a massive, ornately detailed bronze relief of a bulls head. The metal was slightly tainted, weathered by time, but it still shone with a dull gleam. There was a large brass ring looped through the nose of the bull, resting gently on the wood beneath. Jess took a deep breath and pushed on the door, causing a cacophony of creaks and groans from the old hinges. The doors swung open, the brass bull remaining in one piece, hanging onto the right side door. As they all stepped inside, Mark noticed that on the other side of the door was another bronze bull. This one, however, was much larger; it took up almost the entire doorframe, the intricate carving making it look impossibly realistic. Two large brass rings looped through the sculpture, one for each nostril. Being the last one in, Jess motioned for Mark to shut the door behind them, which he did.

"Alright!" Jess cheered, pulling several small flashlights out of her bag. She handed them out to the others, testing each one to make sure they worked. The flashlights were those you could find at gas stations; cheap, but effectively bright. She then pulled out a large zip lock bag and waved it around. Inside, there were at least a dozen spare batteries.

"Just in case some spooky stuff does happen," Jess started, handing out spare batteries to everyone, "this way we can make sure we don't lose our light source."

"Good thinking," James chimed, already scoping out the room they were in. Using the flashlights, Mark saw that the entryway they were in was a large foyer; multiple stands and cases were scattered about, in various stages of destruction. Chunks of wood, glass, and metal were strewn about across the floor, making the group continue forward haphazardly. Trisha was the first to start making their way up the steps that led to the second floor, talking along the way.

"I can't believe how old some of this stuff is! It's also in surprisingly well kept condition," she added, now about halfway up the steps, "aside from the blown apart collection down--"

Her words were cut short when a loud crack echoed out beneath her. The staircase bent inward, and James rushed forward to grab Trisha, but the wood gave way before he could get there. The crash caused a large amount of dust to spread out, heavily obscuring everyone's vision. After the dust settled a little, Jess and James rushed over to Trisha.

"Are you okay?!" Jess shouted, pulling pieces of wood aside to make a path forward. There was a groan followed by a weak thumbs up, as Trisha slowly pulled herself to a sitting position. There were several small cuts on her arms, but overall no major injuries.

"Well," Trisha started, reaching out a hand for either Jess or James to help her up, "that was fun. Let's not do it again!"

"Hey Mark, could you give us a hand?" James questioned, looking back over his shoulder.

Mark, however, was not paying attention. Instead, he was frozen in fear, staring at the entrance. Jess and Trisha also panned their attention over to where Mark was staring, as a large, hulking bull stared back at them. Its mane sleek and dark, its eyes points of burning coal, and its horns shimmering slightly in the light of the flashlight. Silence permeated the air around them for what seemed an eternity, both the group and the bull making no motions. Suddenly, the bull let out a snort, and began pawing the ground.

"RUN!" Mark yelled, snapping out of his trance.

Jess and James yanked Trisha out of the debris pile and sprinted, along with Mark, through the archway into the hallway. The pounding of hooves rang out from behind them, and Mark turned to see how close the bull was. At first, he couldn't see it, the hallway was empty. Then there was a flash of movement as the bull phased through the wall nearby, landing into the hallway. It turned its head towards them, and as soon as it saw them it began to chase once more.

"We need to hide!" Mark shouted, following Jess' lead as they turned down the next hallway. Jess opened the nearest door and ushered them all inside, just as the sound of hooves grew immediately close. She closed the door to the point where there was no visible gap between the frame and door, but did not close it all the way. The group huddled and waited, their hearts beating rapidly. The sound of hooves grew louder, but slower, as it seemed the bull was searching for them. After a minute, the sound became almost non-existent.

"I think we're clear for the moment," Trisha whispered, rubbing a small bruise on her leg.

"I guess that was the bull the old man was rambling about, huh?" James quipped, but the squeaking in his voice betrayed the fear he was feeling.

"We need to get out of here," Mark started, placing a hand gently on James' shoulder. He moved towards the door, listening for any errant sound from the hallway. After determining that it was quiet, Mark gently opened the door enough to where he could see down both directions. Other than the rain pattering against the windows, and the occasional flash of lightning, the corridor was empty. Mark turned and motioned for the others to follow behind, and began to creep back down the hallway they had come from. As the group slowly crept down the hallway, Mark took note of the familiar pictures on the wall. Familiar? He shook his head slightly, figuring the fear must be making him crazy.

"Is it just me, or is anyone getting the feeling like we've been here before?" Jess whispered, also noticing the artwork on the walls. Mark felt his heart skip a beat as he looked back, James and Trisha murmuring in agreement.

"Let's just get out of here," Mark protested, pushing now into the main foyer area they had entered the house in. As they reached the double door, Mark stifled a scream. The relief of the bull, which had the handles to open the door, was gone. Instead, there was only the smooth wood of the door, with no seams or handles to open it. Mark thrust himself against it, but to no avail. Another moment of silence permeated the air as the group tried in vain to figure out a next step. The silence was cut short, however, when the thunderous pounding of hooves filled the air once more. Mark turned towards the others to run, but this time they weren't fast enough. The bull made contact with Trisha, knocking her up into the air. Or at least, that's what the group expected to happen. Instead, the bull passed directly through Trisha, leaving no wound or blemish. However, once the bull had fully traveled through her, Trisha screamed in agony and dropped to the floor, unconscious. Next was James, as he attempted to run into the other hallway, the bull managed to phase through the wall and directly through James before he got any farther. Another scream, another thud, as James fell unconscious as well. Mark and Jess, looking at each other with defeated gazes, simply stood and allowed the bull to pass through them. Jess fell first, her scream echoing through Mark's head, and then the bull turned its gaze to Mark. He looked at his friends, unconscious on the ground, and hung his head in defeat. As the bull trampled through him, there was a white flash of emotion; anger, pain, and sorrow. Mark screamed due to the sudden flood of emotion, and fell unconscious, the darkness consuming his vision.

Mark sat on the top step of the staircase leading up to his porch, the light drizzle of mid-October rain beginning to patter onto the ground around him. A chilled breeze passed through the air, causing Mark to shiver for just a moment. His eyes opened as some of the drops hit his face, a yawn tumbling from his mouth. Mark decided he must have dozed off while waiting for Jess, but couldn't remember the dream he had had. As Mark looked up and down the street, he saw the familiar beat up red of Jess's '97 convertible heading down his way. He stood and made his way down to the curb, as the car drove passed and turned around, parking just in front of Mark. As Jess began clearing off the seat for him, Mark looked back at the house he was sitting in front of. For a moment, he saw an old dilapidated house, a bronze bull relief on the front double doors, and a pair of burning coal eyes in the window. A drop of water hit his eye, and Mark blinked instinctively, rubbing it away. Looking back at it, it was the same house he had been used to. Mark entered Jess's car, and they drove off down the street.