Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

Harlow House Investigation	By : Need2ScreamNow Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Avenged Sevenfold Views: 1051 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know/own anything associated with Ghost Adventures or A7x. I'm not making any money and this is all fiction

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Taking a deep breath Johnny flipped on the night vision camera and started wandering in and out of rooms calling for something to happen. He could feel something watching him, following from room to room but every time he turned he didn’t see anything. “Hello-o, what’s your name…uh Wringly, yeah, um…so, you’re mad you got shot. I would be too.” He stopped and looked around the plush master bedroom and then laughed, shaking out the tension and discomfort. There wasn’t anything in this old house, just stories of death. Outside stars blazed around the half moon and he wondered briefly if Syn was having more fun outside than he was stuck behind four walls.
On the way out of the bedroom something thumped above him. He looked up and listened for the sound to come again, when the house remained quiet he shrugged and continued on to the dining room. In the pitch black he tripped over the small lip in the door and almost dropped the camera. “Okay Christ, two things you’re gonna do tonight: Stay awake and not drop the camera.” He muttered looking in the tiny four inch screen for any other obstacles. The stairs creaked. He looked up from the camera but saw only the after image of the dining room table from the view finder. He used the camera to look and the stairs were empty. Shrugging he pulled his voice recorder out of his pocket. He was out of rooms to look in downstairs so he might as well go up and get that out of the way. He would probably get lost in the cellar, there were so many little rooms branching off it for storage.
His weight on the stairs made them squeak and groan in the quiet house and he went up quickly wanting the noise to stop. He got to the top and looked right. A shadow ducked into a doorway. He froze and took a step back from the stairs. “Hello?” his voice wavered a little and he kicked himself for it. “Hello?” he called louder and hoped he could talk the guys into editing the first one. Nothing answered and the hallway stayed quiet. Snapping his teeth together Johnny walked to the door where he had seen the flash of darkness and looked in. Nothing unusual, a bed and dresser, the rug hadn’t been disturbed. The window was shut now but Holli had told them she would be closing them. “Hello?” he called again. He flipped on the voice recorder and searched his memory for the name of the cranky old bat that was supposed to be haunting this place. “Mrs…Trouble? No…Tru-something, Trundle? Mrs. Trundle is that you?” he asked. Nothing answered and after a few seconds he turned the voice recorder off, “sorry I messed up your name.” he said to the darkness and then left the room. A squeak and thump came from down the hall and he jumped. Pressing his back to a wall he pointed the camera to the locked door. A shadow moved into the room. “Oh fuck.” He whispered. He was hoping to avoid that end of the hallway all together. If he saw the shadow though, the others would and they’d want to know why he didn’t go after it. Taking a deep breath he forced his feet forward with eyes locked on the door.
A few feet from the door a shadow swung into the hallway, he yelped and jumped back before freezing and waiting to see what it would do. It didn’t move and a second later it retreated into the room with another squeak and thump. “Come on Christ, get your shit together.” He hissed. He should’ve volunteered for a graveyard, at least then he’d have somewhere to run to if shit hit the fan. Digging into his courage he took the final six steps to the door and found it hanging open.
Swinging on old hinges a breeze from the open window blew the door closed some and when the wind let up it squeaked and swung back a little. His body trembled starting from his feet and working its way up until his hand shook. The door moved again and his testicles crawled into his lower intestine, his tongue sat heavy in his mouth and breath puffed in and out of him with growing speed. He needed to close the door. The door that was supposed to be locked and blessed so whatever ultimate evil was inside couldn’t get out.
I don’t know if the blessing works all that well. Holli’s voice echoed in his head, you get the feeling whatever’s in there is staying put because it wants to, not because it has too. “It’s just a door John, close it.” He whispered. His hand stayed glued to his side, the stairs squeaked. “Close it.” He hissed. The wind blew the door again and almost closed it for him, the door started to swing back, something was still in there. Standing just behind the wood, it would come out this time, as soon as the door was open enough it was coming out. His hand shot out and dragged the door closed again. Once it latched he cradled his hand against his chest and continued staring at the door. Something was still in there. He had a feeling it was laughing at him.
Abandoning the door and any tough guy persona he wanted he ran for the stairs and hit the bottom floor. Sitting on the table where he had left it was the walkie talkie. He picked it up but didn’t press the button. What did he say? Hey guys, I’m freaking out because the door was open upstairs? None of them had a key, the best they could do would be to call Randy back and he lived half an hour away. And why would they call Randy back because a door was open? He put the walkie talkie down and then picked it up again and clipped it to his waistband. On the table was the big tape recorder thing. He stayed leaning against the table for a moment and then pushed himself up and headed for the kitchen and the cellar stairs. Above him someone paced the floor in heavy boots, back and forth, back and forth. He stopped and looked up, “nine more hours and you’ll be back on the bus, in bed, thinking about home.” He reminded himself. Besides, it was just noises. So the stairs creaked, the house was older than the United States, he was surprised it didn’t creak when he breathed.
In the kitchen he almost knocked his hip on the heavy dough table situated in the middle of the room. Saving his hip the bruise he carefully stepped around it and made it to the door without tripping over anything else. It took him a minute to fiddle with the handle in the darkness but he got the latch up. When the door swung open revealing worn wooden stairs he shivered. It was cooler in the cellar, so Holli had told them, to keep food from going bad. He took the steps one at a time feeling them bend under his weight. From the kitchen a few soft notes from a woman’s voice floated down the stairs. He stopped and listened again but the house was quiet. “Just noise.” He whispered. He started down again and decided he’d skip all the little rooms off to the sides.
His shoes touched packed earth and he looked up from the view finder up the black stairs to the darker doorway. He brought the camera up and looked, A shadow stood in the doorway for a split second before it was gone again. He put the camera down again shivering, he opened his mouth to call to the specter but closed it again. Whatever that thing was, it wasn’t in the mood to make conversation. From his dark left something shuffled across the floor. He jumped to face the sound and wrapped his free arm around his torso, “it’s an old house, Christ, it’s probably a rodent.” He whispered. He didn’t check to see if it was. Instead he put one hesitant foot in front of the other, looking over his shoulder at the blackness at the top of the stairs and wondering if it was back and watching him.
The wide basement funneled to a smaller box through a doorway, the wine cellar, he guessed from the honeycomb shelves against the walls. “Matt needs one of these.” He whispered just to hear his voice. There was no noise in the basement, no thumps from above or squeaks from the stairs, no nighttime insect sounds or wind. At the end of the wine cellar was another door which led to the root cellar where canned vegetables were housed. The door was latched and he had to juggle the camera a little to wrench it open with both hands. Once it was open the scent of must and old earth filled the room. He flipped the voice recorder on again and stepped into the cramped room.
The room was claustrophobic in the daylight, the ceiling was only a few inches over Johnny’s head and everyone else had, had to duck, Zak was probably going to have a nice knot on his temple where he had whacked it on a beam. Holli told them that during the civil war days this place had been used to keep the dead until it was safe enough to bury them. Through the view finder he found the long tables that now had canned green beans, tomatoes, potatoes, peaches, grape jelly, raspberry jam, and an assortment of dried herbs and plants. The loose dirt floor kicked up plumes of dust with his soft footsteps.
“Hi, any dead soldiers here wanna talk?” he asked in a quiet voice. He set the voice recorder and the tape recorder on a table with the red light glowing steadily while he circled the room asking questions. On the third circuit, glass jars on the other side of the room rattled, like something had bumped the table. He panned the camera over the area, “hello? Dead soldier?” he asked. A shadow darted across the room and dove into darkness under another table. His chest felt tight, the air seemed denser and the musty smell that had been only a subtle undertone lay thick on his tongue and throat. He sneezed and tried calling again, “hi, I’m not going to hurt you.” He said.
Johnny
The mechanical voice made him jump a foot and he backed away from the corner he had seen the shadow disappear into. Breathing hard, shaking, and pointing his flashlight into the dark corners he tried to find where the noise had come from.
John-ny
The voice shattered the heavy silence for a second and then it all rushed in again, heavier than before. Johnny’s lip trembled, “go away.” He whispered. “What do you want?” he said louder. He couldn’t find the door, he’d gone in circles and hadn’t bothered with remembering where it was. There was silence, the shadow left its hiding place and slunk across the wall to the other side of the room, solid and black.
Run
Johnny jumped again, “who are you?” he asked he wanted to keep the shadow’s hiding place in sight but he needed to find the door and get the fuck out of the basement.
Johnny, run
“Run from what, what the fuck are you?” his voice was high and shaking. A soft breeze blew through the enclosed space and a cold finger touched his cheek. He yelped and whipped around to find what was touching him and his lens landed on the door.
Run
Run
RunRunRun RunRunRun RunRunRun RunRunRun
The words blurred together and terrified tears stung Johnny’s eyes, “what’s going on?” he whimpered. The tape deck thing was blinking as the words rolled across the screen. He grabbed it off the table, “who are you?” he yelled at the box.
RunRunRunRunRunRunRunRunRunRunRunRun
It continued uninterrupted by his outburst. “What am I running from?” He could see the door but the heavy feeling of something waiting on the other side kept him rooted where he was. Something was in the room with him and something was outside waiting, he wasn’t sure which was worse. The jars rattled again and from the darkness behind him came a throaty growl. He whirled around and found nothing but jars of preserved food.
DE-EM-ON
The low word hung in the air and the box fell silent. His breath came out in ragged pants. Demon? He was running from a goddamned demon. The loud static of his walkie talkie kicking on dropped his legs out from under him. He hit the hard floor breathing hard and scrambling to turn the volume down. The light wasn’t on, the walkie talkie wasn’t on.
Johnny
The voice whispered from the crackle of static and the hamburger he ate for dinner rose in his throat. “Leave me alone.” He pleaded. The growl came from behind him again and he staggered to his feet again, backing toward the door and whatever was waiting outside it.
Johnny
The crooning voice faded in the static and the radio switched off. All around him blackness pressed against him, against his ears and eyes, his mouth and nose. Burning came from his arm and leg and he fell down again trying to get away from it. The burning got worse and he looked at his arm with the camera, three long painful scratches ran down his arm. The radio crackled to life again.
John-boy
His heart hammered in his chest, he could feel it circling him in the darkness, his cheek started to burn with the same intensity of his arm and leg. He stumbled to his feet again and ran for the door. He had left it open a crack and now it was shut snugly. He hit the door hard and bounced off it winding himself and seeing starlight in the malevolent dark.
Johnny
Half-conscious the voice on the radio didn’t frighten him, a cool hand brushed across his cheek and the pain faded. Sound came rushing back to him when something growled close to his head, he screamed and bolted to his feet, he kicked the door and pulled on the handle but it refused to give. Behind him something shuffled through the dirt, someone knocked on the door.
“Matt? Matt! Randy!” he screamed banging on the door. Someone kicked it hard enough to rattle the hinges and then booming laughter filled the room. He screamed again and covered his head with his arms, “please don’t hurt me.” He whispered. The air was heavy with dust from his frantic scrambling and the musty odor had become something rotten. Laughter came again, quiet, right next to his ear. He threw up. It was going to hurt him and it was going to enjoy it.
A cool breeze cleared the air around him and he could breathe again and then an aftershock of something powerful pressed him back against the door, whatever had been next to him snarled and the latch popped open. He grabbed the handle and yanked the door open no longer caring what was waiting for him in the rest of the basement. He slammed the door behind him and shot the outer bolt home before running half blind away from the root cellar.
He caught his shoulder on the doorway leading to the large part of the basement and almost dropped the tape recorder thinking something was trying to grab him. He stumbled and fell up two stairs before he got his feet under him and scrambled up the steps. Behind him the root cellar door cracked and groaned as something pummeled it from the other side. He got to the top of the stairs and there was a loud “Whack” that reverberated through the basement and then an angry snarl. Johnny grabbed the basement door and slammed it shut, his hands fumbling for the lock and latch. As soon as the lock slipped into place the door jumped and cracked, a snarl came from behind it and Johnny screamed, back pedaling and falling against the dough table. The door groaned and cracked more. Dropping the tape deck and camera on the table he felt around for the other end of the table and then shoved it as hard as he could. He squeaked across the wood a couple inches and stopped. The growling was louder now and the wooden door popped and cracked. Johnny shoved the table again and it shuddered forward another couple of inches. Breath heaved in and out of him but none of it seemed to be reaching his lungs. His legs shook under him and his arms were weak. Terrified tears rolled down his cheeks as he shoved the table again. The latch on the door rattled the solid whump whump whump of someone throwing their body against the door shook the house. Johnny abandoned the side he was one and stumbled his way to the side closest to the door and pulled the table. It moved easier now, scratching the wood floor and screeching across the room. He felt the vibrations of the door bucking against his back and ran around to the other side and shoved it hard as he could a final time and felt wood meet wood. The door stopped rattling but there was a low growl still rumbling through the floor. Johnny’s shaky hands found the camera and tape recorder and then he stumbled away from the table and door until his back hit the wall.
He sank down against the floor and forced his shaky hands to pull the radio off his waistband. “Guys, Zacky, Brian, Matt?” his voice was high and breathy and the radio stayed silent in his shaking hand. “No, no, no, no. Please work, work, please.” He whispered, he squeezed the button again and called to his friends but no static came through.
On
The tape recorder quipped. Johnny dropped the radio and ducked his head breathing hard, full body tremors racking through him. His arms inched down until he could look in the darkness, his mouth dry and shaky breaths still whistling in and out of him. His hand felt across the cool floor for the walkie talkie. He was afraid to turn on the flashlight, afraid to see what the darkness was hiding from him but he wanted out, Right Now. The small pen light burned his eyes but he found the on switch quickly and snapped it off again. The table squeaked and his head shot up. He brought the camera up and saw the table no longer pressed against the door. A crack was opening, slowly and silently letting in the darkness from the basement. He dropped everything and hit the table at full speed, knocking the wind out of himself but snapping the door shut again. A roar shook the house and rattled the china in its cabinet. The table shuddered as the assault on the door resumed. He looked behind him and saw the steady red light from the radio. He dove for it and the table lurched back with a high scream against the wood floor. His hand closed over the antenna and he pushed the table back against the door again. He squeezed the button, “there’s something in the basement!”
*~*~*
            Zack wandered around the upstairs of the big house. He hadn’t seen one ghost, not even a shadow. Hell, they hadn’t even heard a thump. So when his radio burst to life with Johnny’s terrified scream he just about when through a window. From downstairs Aaron’s radio echoed his and so did his hard curse. The static ended and Zack’s numb fingers yanked the radio off his waistband, “mother fucker, Johnny. You scared the shit outta me, what?” he said still trying to catch his breath. He made his way to the stairs listening for a response. Aaron’s quiet footsteps creaked across the floor board and he looked up at Zack, “dude, he sounded pretty freaked out.” In the dark house his voice had an eerie disembodied quality to it but the longer the radio silence stretched on the more Aaron’s words weighed on him. Johnny was solid, he could watch a horror movie while performing a satanic ritual in a graveyard and go to bed unfazed but the high strained voice that had crackled through the speakers was afraid.
            Zack got to the bottom of the stairs and could just make out Aaron’s bulkier body standing in front of the big bay window. Zack went over and tried the front door, Randy had locked them in tight.
“Johnny, Johnny are you okay?” Brian’s voice lit up the radio and Zack turned the volume down so the coming and going of voices wouldn’t keep scaring him. Another beat of silence and then Johnny was back on the radio. “It’s gonna get out, it’s gonna get out.” The high breathy voice didn’t sound like Johnny. “The door was open, it’s in the basement, it’s gonna get out.”
“Johnny, what?” Matt’s coarse voice was harder to understand through the static. Zack clicked on, “Johnny, what’s in the basement?” if the little shit was just fucking around with them, he was walking to the next show. The radio was silent for a minute and then it came back, “the thing from upstairs, the door was open, it’s—” his voice cut off abruptly and a chill crept up Zack’s spine, he looked over at Aaron’s shadow. “The thing from upstairs?” he said.
“He said the door was open, holy fuck…you don’t think he meant…” Aaron said. Zack kicked the front door and the oak didn’t budge, “fuck,” he yelled. He had to get out of this house and get Johnny. Even if it was all in his imagination he could hurt himself running up and down stairs in pitch darkness.
“Syn, get him.” Matt yelled. There was a hollow thump and then Matt cursed before the radio fell silent again. Zack started pacing back and forth in front of the door, “Aaron, call Randy and tell him to get here, now.” He said. The blue screen of Aaron’s phone lit up his face but left his eyes in shadow.
“Johnny, I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Syn said. There was no response.
*~*~*
            Johnny’s legs couldn’t handle pushing against the table much longer, he’d already given up a couple inches and the door was opening more. Burning, like someone running hot nails down his skin, flared up from his back and his strength faltered even more. The door opened and he could feel it seeping into the room. He abandoned the table and the walkie talkie, falling on the floor he found the camera and flashlight and tape recorder. The growling was louder now. He ran for the front door and hit the wood hard. He fell back and his head ricocheted off the hardwood floor. From the kitchen, the table screeched across the floor and slammed into the opposite wall, dishes fell from the cabinet and the chandelier tinkled. A woman laughed, somewhere close, close enough to touch. Tears ran over his nose and down his cheek to settle on the floor. The radio crackled to life in the kitchen, “Johnny, Johnny can you hear me? I’m almost there, hang on.” Syn sounded out of breath and Johnny curled into a ball. Heavy footsteps pounded across the floor.
“Randy said he’d be here in forty-five minutes.” Zack’s voice was distorted by the static. A breeze blew over Johnny’s skin raising goosebumps but soothing the burn coming from his back. The footsteps came to a stop close to his head and he tucked it tighter between his arms and squeezed his eyes shut. A roar shook the floor under him and something glass smashed into the wall, shards and liquid rained down on his covered head. There was an answering hiss and the front door rattled. The woman’s laugh came again and something grabbed his leg dragging him across the polished floor a foot before letting go. He screamed and kicked at the darkness and tucked his legs closer to his chest. Protected by his legs, scratches still raked down his chest and across his stomach. Another swipe went across his cheek and warm blood trickled across his lips. Someone grabbed his arm and he left the floor. In the blackness he couldn’t tell if he was floating or falling until he hit the floor. Breath rushed out of him and his head slammed into the unyielding wood. Sharp, hot pain shot from his right side across his chest and hip. He bounced once and rolled onto his back coughing and gasping. Each breath sent shards of pain through his chest and rasped down his dry throat.
The front door rattled again and the chain outside rustled. Johnny turned his head to the sound and tried to sit up. Something was pressing on his chest and neck, his breath whistled in and out as he tried to breathe past it. Fingers ran down his injured cheek and then the weight was gone. He rolled onto his side and belly crawled for the door. Someone was pounding on the door and the radio lit up in the other room, “Johnny! Johnny where are you?” Syn yelled. Johnny stretched out his hand and felt the smooth wood of the door. Someone grabbed him by the back of the neck and jerked him off the floor, he screamed and the terrifying feeling of vertigo took over again. His lower half caught the dining room table and flipped him one hundred eighty degrees before he came to a crashing halt against the floor. A pained sob caught in his throat when the air rushed out and didn’t come back.
*~*~*
            Syn pounded on the door again, kicked it a couple times and tried yanking the lock off with brute strength but the house stayed locked up tight. The thought of Johnny faking the whole thing had crossed his mind, but the terrified scream he heard put all that to rest. Even if Johnny was just scaring himself with ghost stories he still hadn’t answered any of Syn’s knocks or the walkie talkie. He could hear things moving around, footsteps, things breaking, a second ago Johnny had screamed and something hit the floor hard. “Johnny?” he yelled. They shouldn’t have split up, someone should’ve been in there with the little bassist. “Fuck! Come on Johnny answer me.” He screamed kicking the door again. The chain rattled but didn’t give. Static burst from his radio and he held it up to his ear listening for Johnny’s voice. Instead a low growl rumbled through. He pulled the radio away and stared at it, “Johnny? Did anyone else fucking hear that?” he asked.
            “What? Did he answer you?” Zack asked, Brian looked over his shoulder at the big house. How could they all be so close to the bassist and so far away at the same time? Brian waited for the static to clear before he answered, “no, my radio just fucking growled at me.” He said. Before anyone could ask what the hell he was talking about Nick’s strained voice came over the line, “what do you mean, it growled?” he was trying to be calm and that scared Brian even more. They hadn’t walked into this thinking they’d actually find something, this was supposed to be a fun night looking for spooks not finding them. Syn swallowed hard and paced up and down the porch trying to see into the dark house, “I mean it growled, like a dog or something.” He said impatiently. “Johnny?” he yelled at a window. Nothing moved.
            “Where are you?” This time it was Zak’s voice, it sounded like he was running. He was leaving the graveyard too? Brian felt this was a very bad sign and he ignored the question for a minute while he tested the windows. “I’m at the house, I’m going around back to see if the cellar door is locked.” He said.
            “Don’t bother, I already checked.” Matt’s voice came from the dark and Brian jumped back into a defensive judo stance before he relaxed. “Shads? How the hell did you get out?” Brian asked. Matt didn’t answer the question, “have you seen him?” he asked instead. Brian filed away the singer’s Houdini abilities for a later time and shook his head, “I’ve been calling him but…he screamed when I got here and he hasn’t said anything since, I haven’t even seen a shadow.” As he spoke, a shadow darted by the window, too fast to be their bassist. Shadows’ kicked the door rattling the frame and making the chain rattle and scrape against the handle.
            “Shads, I saw something.” Brian whispered. Matt was at his side half a second later, “not Johnny.” He said staring hard into the dark beyond the glass. Brian shook his head. From the dark a shadow broke off and approached the glass, a low growl rumbled through Matt and Brian looked up at him surprised. When the shadow was close enough the dark seemed to coalesce around it, giving it substance and then it fled leaving behind an elderly woman glaring at them from inside the house. Coal red eyes glared out at from pits where normal eyes would be, she bared her teeth revealing too many rows of pointed fangs. “Mother of God.” Brian whispered. Matt instead punched the glass separating the two and snarled at her. The red eyes fixed on him, “you hurt him bitch and I’ll burn this shithole to the ground.” The singer snarled. The old woman opened her mouth, distending her jaw and revealing even more teeth before a high pitched shriek rattled the windows and forced Brian back a step, ears ringing. Matt screamed back, his coarse scream not as loud but just as lethal.
*~*~*
            Johnny crawled to his hands and knees, his nose was bleeding and his chest ached with each breath, he could hear voices outside, familiar voices. “Matt?” he whispered. He couldn’t remember where the door was and he had lost the camera and his flashlight. He fell to his side again with a sharp yelp of pain and then settled breathing hard and shallow.
            Johnny
            The tape deck called from the other side of the room and he raised his head. He’d dropped the tape recorder next to the door with his camera. A crackle on the radio and then the soft crooning voice: Johnny. Choked cries caught in his chest, “I want…I want home.” He whimpered. Something growled next to him and a woman screamed upstairs. The stairs creaked, descending quickly. A breeze brushed his shoulder and the squeaking stopped, the growl came again from the other side of the room.
            Johnny
            The tape deck said again. He got to his hands and knees again, shooting pain radiating from his hip and knees. He dropped to the floor breathing hard, outside the chain rattled and the handle. Matt and Brian yelled for him.
            Johnny
            The voice beckoned, the breeze ran down his neck and back, across his sore body and the pain receded enough he could drag himself over to where the voice called. He stopped when his fingers touched the tape recorder and dropped his head to the floor, a floorboard creaked behind him, salty tears stung the cuts on his cheek.
*~*~*
            Brian and Matt both yanked on the chain but it was brand new and unmoving. While Brian was shining the flashlight on the lock wondering if he could jerry rig a lock pick the beam flashed across Matt’s bloody hand. “Matt, what happened?” he said almost dropping the flashlight. Matt looked at the damage and shuddered but didn’t answer. He moved his hand out of the light and paced back along the porch. Brian watched him go and looked back at the big house, Randy was still at least twenty minutes out and they needed to get Matt to a hospital. “You broke a window, what else is cut up? How bad are you bleeding?” Brian demanded. Matt paced back to him, “it’s not that bad, it stopped bleeding before I got here.” He said softly. He dropped the lock and took Matt’s hand playing the light over it again. Beside him the lock rattled and he flashed the light over to it. “Johnny, Johnny are you at the door?” he called. The lock jiggled and trembled and then popped open. It fell to the porch and the chain hung loosely. Brian stared at it dumbfounded until Matt reached into his line of sight and ripped the chain off the door.
            “Johnny!” Brian yelled jerking the door open. Light hit Johnny’s prone form and Brian dropped down next to him. “Oh Jesus, Johnny, Johnny can you hear me? John?” the bassist’s breathing was thready, dark blood was drying on his cheek and blood dripped from his nose on to the floor. Matt kneeled down too and gently rolled the smaller man onto his back, Johnny whimpered and new tears squeezed out of his eyes. “Hey, hey, it’s okay Johnny. It’s Matt.” Brian said brushing his hair off his forehead. Dark brown eyes flickered open and turned away from the bright flashlight. Matt worked an arm under his shoulders and legs and hoisted him up, “we’re getting the fuck outta here, okay.” He whispered. Johnny pressed his head closer to Matt’s chest and didn’t answer.
            Run
            Brian jumped and looked around for the computer voice that came from the floor. Next to his feet were Johnny’s camera and flashlight and the weird voice box thing Zak and had given him as they were walking out the door. The green screen pulsed to life with stark black letters R-U-N scrolling across.
            Run
            The voice demanded. Johnny jerked awake in Matt’s arms and the singer did his best to quiet him. Johnny’s breathing picked up, “it’s coming back, it’s coming back.” He panted.
            RunRunRunRunRunRunRunRunRunRunRun
            The words blurred together and the scrolling letters disappeared entirely unable to keep up with whatever was speaking. Matt stepped past Brian onto the porch while talking to Johnny, “what’s coming back? Nothing’s coming after you, not anymore.” He whispered.
            DEMON
            Brian picked up the camera and the voice box and looked around the dark house. “Demon?” he whispered, the old lady was a demon, he’d seen that in living proof. A shadow moved in the kitchen and a breeze blew across his face. Something in the air was familiar and he wrinkled his brow trying to place it when something shoved him back. He stumbled out of the house and landed squarely on his ass. The door slammed shut an inch from his toes and something slammed into it from the other side. Johnny screamed, a high raw sound that got Brian to his feet.
            Lock
            The voice box demanded. He stared at the device in his hands breathing hard and uncomprehending.
            “Lock the door, lock the door before it gets out!” Johnny whimpered from behind him. Matt’s soft words overlapped his panicked ones and Brian put the camera and voice box down, grabbing the chain and snaking it around the handle again. The door bucked and rattled making slipping the lock through the links more than difficult. He got the lock through and snapped it closed, it popped open again. He stared at the heavy metal, “no motherfucker, now you stay closed.” He yelled, he snapped it shut again and it stayed for a second and then clicked open. He closed it again and held it there. Cool night air blew his longish hair off his neck, something semi-solid bumped his shoulder and cold fingers brushed over his. The lock clicked shut and when he pulled his hand away, stayed that way. His hands shook and his breathing increased, something was standing next to him. “Matt?” he whispered, it was still there, still just touching his shoulder, cold fingers running down his cheek.
            Syn
            The soft sigh drifted up from his radio, the familiar smell was back. He knew that smell, he’d fallen asleep with it more times than he could remember; laundry detergent, cigarette smoke, and warm skin. “Jimmy?” A cold forehead pressed against his and he didn’t flinch away from the freezing contact. He closed his eyes and could see from a thousand memories playful sky blue eyes, flecks of gold and green closer to the pupil. An arm, solid with its cold wrapped around his waist for a brief second and then it was all gone.
            “Guys! How’d you get him out?” Zak’s voice broke up the night and Brian opened his eyes to nothing but a dark porch. His teeth bit into his lip and he had to blink away tears before he could face Zak. He stepped away from the door when the lock rattled and looked over his shoulder. Johnny was either asleep or unconscious in Matt’s arms but the singer was staring over Brian’s shoulder not paying any attention to the new arrival. A feral snarl brought Brian’s attention back to the door in front of him. The lock that had seemed to secure when they were trying to get Johnny out looked woefully unqualified to keep in whatever wanted out now. The door bucked and splintered and he jumped down the three steps to the brick walkway. Lights suddenly came on in the upstairs windows and then the downstairs blazed to life. Zak still had his camera in his hand but was staring slack jawed at the display. Upstairs, the woman reappeared and Matt backed up more with Johnny. Another shadow appeared in the next window but didn’t take on the lifelike detail of the woman, instead it stayed solidly black.
            “It’s Wringly.” Zak said, camera once again up and filming. Brian didn’t take his eyes off the upstairs window, “how do you know that?” he asked. Zak had to clear his throat twice before he could answer, “we’ve done a couple civil war sites, re-enactments and stuff. The outline, definitely a civil war hat, and that point over his shoulder, he’s got his gun, that’s the bayonet.” He spoke in a high, excited voice. “They’re both demonic, oh my God, they’re both demonic.” He breathed, “two demons in one place, we’ve dealt with them one at a time before, even a succubus once but holy fuck, two demons in one house.”
            “Matt, Randy just pulled up, did you get him?” Vengeance’s frantic voice asked over the radio. The front door shuddered again while Brian reached for his radio and found nothing. “Fuck me,” he muttered looking at the porch where the voice box, Johnny’s camera, and his radio were lying in a pile.
            “Yeah we got ‘em man, and you are not going to believe what we’re seeing right now.” Zak answered. Minutes later flashlights played over the front steps and Vengeance and Aaron came to a sliding halt with the group. The shadows upstairs flicked out of sight and a low moan drifted out of the house. Lights began snapping on and off upstairs, the front door knocked in its frame and a concussive bang came from behind the house. Aaron and Zak began talking all at once, describing to the camera, themselves, and anyone else what they were seeing. Between the flashes of their conversations a mechanical voice called from the porch.
            “Hey, zip it.” Brian barked. Both ghost hunters quieted and looked at him, waiting for an explanation. Zak was the first to notice the sound from the voice box, “It’s the PX, what’s it saying?” he asked excitedly. Vengeance came up next to Brian and cocked his head to the side, “run?” he ventured.
            “Oh fuck.” Matt said, Brian nodded, “something got out.” He grabbed Vengeance and hauled him away from the house while shouting and Zak and Aaron to get away too. The porch light flicked on and the two rocking chairs began to move, dark mist rose up from the porch and settled into the moving chairs, solidifying into the old woman and the shadow soldier. Vengeance’s hand tightened on Brian’s, “what the fuck is going on?” he whispered staring at the apparitions.
They were halfway to the big house when Johnny screamed. Brian whipped around in time to see Matt dump the little bassist on the ground and take a swing at the night. Three crimson lines opened on his face and he stumbled back a step before he swung again. A sharp pain started in the back of Brian’s head and when he reached up to feel what was wrong a cane came down squarely on his fingers. He yelped and jumped around but there was nothing but the house, the two demons still rocking in their chairs, the woman grinning at them with her too many teeth. “It’s Bernie, it’s fucking Bernie!” he yelled.
“Guys, what’s goi—Holy Mother, what the hell is going on?” Nick yelled when he and Randy came jogging through the orchard. He stopped and stared at the house, dropping his flashlight and tightening his hold on his camera before it fell too. Before Brian could tell him what the things on the porch were the invisible cane cracked him on the side of the head. He stumbled and dropped to the ground. Vengeance grabbed him under the shoulders and helped him to his feet again, a hard gust of wind tore through the orchard, stripping leaves and kicking up eddies of dirt and sticks. An angry howl raised the hair on Brian’s arms and Johnny screamed again. Matt crouched next to the bassist shielding him from the worst of the wind and debris, the wind kicked up even more and the howl cut off. Once the sound was gone the wind died to a pleasant breeze and the pain in Brian’s head disappeared.
Away, Go Away
All the radios relayed the message at once. Brian grabbed Vengeance and started pulling him away from the house, “that sounds like some damn good advice.” He said. The three ghost hunters and Randy also started backing away. The figures on the porch disappeared leaving their chairs rocking.
“Wait,” Zak said, he took a deep breath and then sprinted for the house. Brian watched him run, mouth open to yell a warning but his vocals were paralyzed. The kid was insane, did he not just see and feel what happened not three seconds ago? Zak cleared the three stairs with one jump, picked up the camera and PX device and booked it off the porch back to the group.
*~*~*
A/N: I read this at noon one day and didn’t think it was that creepy, read it again at eleven at night, scared the shit outta myself, lol. Thank you for reading and reviewing.
- 2
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Harlow House Investigation