The rain beat down angrily on the pavement, Joe could feel her heart pounding in her chest as the cab pulled away from the curb, leaving her to stare breathlessly at the looming house in front of her. She couldn’t believe the property lay still un-touched…well, really, she could understand why. The ghosts this place contained. She shuddered, the cool mist of the rain setting in against her skin. She pulled her thin rain coat further into her shivering frame, cursing that she had denied Baker’s plea to let him accompany her. She was stubborn, like her father, and she had felt deep in her bones that this was something she had to do alone.
Joe walked slowly towards the house, as if it were sentient and could sense her arrival. She knew that was silly and yet she couldn’t help treat this whole situation with the deepest reverence, just in case. She stopped momentarily, midway through her passage to the doorway, she shifted in her now soaked converse, feeling the weight of her backpack, a reminder that she had all the tools she needed. She was getting in this time. She spurred onwards towards the front door, reaching the relative shelter of the old wooden porch just as an ominous boom sounded, followed by an almost ethereal flash of lightening, causing Joe to catch her reflection in the front window, looking just before the front room where her nightmares often featured.
Joe grasped the cold metal handle, expecting some resistance, if not for locks but because of the sheer age of the place by now, but to her surprise the door sprang open with ease. Almost as if she had never left. She took a deep breath, stilling herself, preparing to bring herself face to face with the only place she had never been able to bring herself back to. Until now. She took one more deep breath and opened her eyes, taking exactly 7 steps forward before turning right into the front room. The exact same path she’d taken that night, nearly 15 years ago now. She could’ve turned on her flashlight, but she didn’t. Scared of what she might see, constantly reassuring herself that it was silly to think that way.
The lightening flashed again just as she had entered the front room and turned towards the base of the fireplace, just as she had that night. Joe screamed, a bloodcurdling sound that surely would’ve woken the neighbours, had there been any within earshot. In front of the fireplace, half on the red brick, half on the hardwood floors, lay a man, his face unrecognizable, smashed, bloodied, broken, his hands grasping the floors as if to show his intent to escape, his black tufts of hair the only defining feature left. Joe fell to her knees, her hands covering her face as her sobs erupted from her chest. She couldn’t believe this was happening again. The scene from her nightmares, except this time she was certain she was awake.
As Joe sobbed helplessly, unable to grasp her reality, she was all too unaware of the figure that loomed behind her. Carefully and quietly trying to move along the wall as not to arouse her attention. Another crack of lightening jolted Joe’s attention away from her palms just momentarily, causing her to catch the shadow on the floor from the figure behind her. Once again her heart was pounding as she spun around, expecting to catch the person who did this.
She let out another scream, as the figure ceased to move forwards, instead now leaping into the air, seemingly startled by being discovered. “I know what you did, you monster” Joe yelled, with abandon. “Please, stop. I’m a detective” the figure emerged from the shadows, suddenly. He looked exhausted and weary, but chiseled, like the lead in an old black and white movie. His long tan rain coat and hat completed the retro detective movie vibe, and his handsome smile spread across his rosy lips the second he stepped into the illuminated window light and spotted Joe. Really spotted her. She couldn’t help but shiver once again as their eyes locked.
pretty words for wicked girls 