Horror House

“Bro, how’d you even fuckin’ find this place?” Aidan questions. His voice shakes as the car jumps over countless dirt mounds.

“Craigslist,” Bruce shrugs casually, “but we won’t gotta worry about cops or noise complaints out here, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it’s literally the fucking middle of nowhere,” Hayden complains, “Is anyone even gonna show up?”

“Dude, it’s gonna be the party of the god damn century, of course people’ll fucking show up.” Bruce retorts. The car shudders to a stop, keys jingling as Bruce pockets them. The band of four young men clamor out of the vehicle at a volume which tears through the sound of cicadas and birds filling the hot summer air, introducing a decibel level that the field had never heard before.

“This is the place?” Tank practically shouts, unimpressed by the eerie atmosphere surrounding the black building.

“Grabbin’ the keys, the place is a couple minutes down the road.” Bruce says, gesturing into the distance. “Shut up and just trust me guys, it’s gonna be a fuckin’ banger.” He knocks on the door and takes a step back, sliding his hands into his tight jean pockets.

“Oh.” The woman and Bruce say in unison as the door swings open with a noisy creak.

“Didn’t expect your type to come out here.” The mysterious young woman says, draped in a thin, black bathrobe that hung a little too low to leave anything to the imagination.

“Damn, me neither,” Bruce says as his eyes struggle to decide which breast to settle on, “Thought you’d be fat and old or something.”

“Don’t be too rowdy. Sound travels far out here and I’m trying to get some good sleep tonight.” She brushes off the comment, offering the keys in the palm of her hand. 

Bruce’s hand shifts past the keys, suddenly wrapping around the woman’s thin wrists and pulling her in uncomfortably close. “No promises, baby girl, we’re a wild bunch,” he winks, “come with us, tonight. A babe like you shouldn’t be alone. What’s your name?” Bruce shines his signature white smile while jokingly undoing the knot holding up her bathrobe.

As her bathrobe slips down slightly to reveal more skin, she looks at the group of men behind Bruce, whose eyes all hungrily bored into her flesh like a pack of wolves stalking prey. With her unrestrained hand, she takes an inhale of her pipe, unfazed. “Belinda,” she says matter of factly, exhaling the smoke straight into Bruce’s face. “You boys are about a hundred years too young to be barking up this tree.”

Bruce’s expression sours as he rips the keys out of Belinda’s hand and throws her arm down. “Whatever, bitch. Your loss.” Bruce is not a man used to rejection.

“Fuckin’ slut.” Hayden mutters as the college aged men trudge down the woman’s porch steps.

“A horny lot, aren’t you? I know just the perfect thing for y’all.” Belinda says, barely loud enough for it to catch the group’s attention, before ghostly slinking back into her dimly lit home.

“What?” Tank asks with his classic booming voice, clearly illiterate in volume control, “Did she wanna fuck or not?”

“Fuck if I know. At this point, that bitch doesn’t even deserve me.” Bruce says dismissively, “I do know one thing though. IT’S TIME TO FUCKIN’ PARTY!” Bruce cackles, shaking the keys loudly in the air as the group shouts rallying cries, more allured by Bruce’s energy and charm than the prospect of partying in the middle of nowhere.

From the comfort of her home, Belinda steps into her office with such gentle touches it’s almost as if she’s floating.

“This should do the trick.” the woman muses as she swirls a glass vial, pouring the purple black concoction onto the ground that spreads unnaturally to form a dark circle around her.

Belinda falls gracefully to the floor with legs crossed and eyes shut, filling the silence with a tongue long forgotten. The air stills in anticipation. Pitches and words beyond the comprehension of humankind shatter the dull room into chaos. Violent winds sweep through, as if the space itself is retaliating in defiance to Belinda’s words, causing her bathrobe to billow. The woman’s house creaks and groans as if it could topple at any moment. With untold power, the woman continues uttered mantras that had gone unspoken since the time of the Ancients. The shadows of deities lost eons ago shimmer into existence, communing in the presence of their elder as they bleed raw and vibrantly into the ring of liquid. This power did not belong to a realm of sapients. The circle reeks of something uncontainable as the ring bubbles and grows until plasma effervesces from every atom. It glows an unimaginable color that only builds with intensity until the room is straining with effort to contain the all consuming searing light of impossible black luminescence. As quickly as the magicks had begun, everything vanished. As the winds die and the light fades, the quaking room rests its tired wood with comfortable normalcy. Belinda’s eyes shoot open, glowing with the same intensity and color as the ring that had surrounded her moments ago. The scenery around her shifts and snags, until reality itself cannot bear any longer and tears at the seams. The room melts into an eagle eye view following the boys as they climb out of their car and into Belinda’s guest house.

“LET’S TRASH THIS FUCKING PLACE!” Tank shouts with savage excitement, swinging the door open with such force it almost breaks the beautiful mansion’s pristine door at the hinges.

“Asmodeus.” Belinda whispers in a primordial tongue with gentle venom dripping from her voice, “I beseech thee, Demon of Lust, deliver what is deserved.”

A spark cuts through the sky, ripping Belinda back into her home.

“Well, now that that’s been dealt with.” Belinda says lackadaisically standing up, dusting herself off, and stretching before continuing her mundane day.

“Grab the fuckin’ beer, guys!” Bruce shouts at the boys hastily entering their newly rented party house.

The sun beats down on their skin as Tank and Aidan return to the car, passing Bruce on his way in with a couple twelve packs of Natty Light in tow. The dirt covered trunk pops open with a click, sending a dirt mist into the men's faces.

“I’ve got the kegs.” Tank declares, puffing his chest.

Aidan laughs, “Both? No way you can carry those.”

“The fuck?” Tank shouts, face immediately growing red with rage. Without warning, he strips his shirt off and throws it to the ground, “You callin’ me fuckin’ weak?”

“Dude-”

“Shut the fuck up and fight me, bitch!” Tank pounds on his chest with a closed fist, leaving a white silhouette on his blood red muscles.

“Bro, chill, you’re fucking twice my size, I’m not fighting you.” Aidan rolls his eyes.

“That’s right, pussy. Stay in your fuckin’ lane.” Tank says, “I’ve got the kegs.”

Aidan is no small man. Perhaps light in terms of weight, Aidan bears a shredded 170 pounds of pure muscle, built for efficiency after a lifelong sports obsession. His build, though, serves as a testament to Tank’s. Eclipsing Aidan, Tank stands tall as a monolith of bodybuilding, a mess of rippling muscles pouring out of every inch of his physique that fill out his large frame and more.

“Where’d your shirt go?” Hayden questions from the kitchen island, barely looking up from his phone.

“He’s fucking roided out, dude. We’re here two god damn minutes and he’s tryna start a fight.” Aidan complains from behind the heaving mass of muscle carrying a keg on each shoulder.

“I don't blame him. You’re fuckin’ annoying.” Hayden comments nonchalantly, drawing a smug smirk on Tank’s face.

“My man.” Tank nods and throws down the kegs, which resoundingly crack the wooden floor. He puts his hand up to offer a fist bump, “Big guys stick together.”

Hayden is no giant. His build is fairly average among his fit college peers, but the ‘big’ that Tank was referring to is a different type. Hayden touches knuckles with a knowing grin as his other hand pulls up his gray sweatpants, sporting a comically oversized bulge soft.

“Good looks boys,” Bruce stands atop the balcony, looking down on the kitchen, living room, and foyer. “We’ve got bedrooms, beers, and bitches coming” He calls, arms spread with ‘am I good or what’ written all over his face.

The men cheer for the All American dreamboat looking down at them. Bruce is perfection. His charisma and success with the ladies makes him a bona fide casanova, which demands immediate respect from every one of his fraternity brothers. With the perfect face, perfect body, and from the sounds of moaning women that constantly echoed out of his room, perfect dick, Bruce is the type that every man is jealous of. His personality could use some tune ups, but that never seems to be enough to put anyone off.

“We’ve got bitches coming from DG, Zeta, Sig Kap,” Bruce announces, counting off his fingers as he suavely slides down the staircase railing, “and best for last, KD.”

“Kappa Delta!?” Aidan shouts, practically spilling his seed in his pants, “Dude, they’ve got the hottest fuckin’ chicks, bro.”

“Yes, sir, they certainly do,” Bruce says with a smile, dapping Aidan up. “So don’t wait up for me boys. Soon as they get here, I’ll be in one of those rooms.” He continues, jokingly humping the air in front of him.

“Hell fuckin’ yeah, bro.” Tank bellows, “How long we got?”

“The rest of our brothers are gonna meet us in a couple hours, girls get here sooner,” Bruce winks, “so lay down some good groundwork.”

A sharp ringing squeals through the air, souring the mood.

“The hell was that?” Bruce questions.

“Dude.” Hayden starts, bewildered, “Why’s it so dark outside?”

The room is silent.

“Why’s it so dark!?” Hayden repeats with growing worry.

Just moments ago they’d entered the house, relieved to have escaped the burning summer sun. The sky had suddenly turned pitch black, as if the sun’s light switch had been flicked off, leaving dark shadows to crawl through the once lit house. No one can come up with an explanation. Hayden takes a reluctant step out the open door. The mess of cicada noises and birds chirping had been replaced with a petrified silence, as if the air itself was holding its breath, not daring to wake what rests in the dark.. Never in his life had he heard such quiet. 

“Hell no, bro.” Hayden shrilly cries out with panic constricting his airway, “I’m fucking out of here, dude, the hell is this shit!? Gimme the fuckin’ keys.”

“Dude-” Bruce starts, before immediately being cut off.

“GIVE ME THE GOD DAMN KEYS!” Hayden screams with boiling anxiety.

Bruce’s expression darkens,  “Calm down, dude. I’m not giving you the keys.”

“Fuck this…” Hayden mutters with restless feet and shifting eyes, double checking that the shadows inside the dark room weren’t going to leap out at him, before he suddenly sprints out the door into the unknown darkness.

“The hell is he so scared of? I’m sure it’s fine.” Aidan says as if trying to convince himself, “Trick of the light or something, I don’t know.”

Bruce just sighs, leaning his weight onto the table and pinching his nose bridge, “Tank, go get him.” 

“I-” Tank stutters, “Yeah, I got it.” he says, in an uncharacteristically quiet voice as he ducks under the door frame.

Without warning, the door slams shut behind him.

“What’d he do that for?” Aidan scoffs, “He’s gotta lay off those fucking roids, dude.” He says, turning back to look at Bruce.

“Bruce?” Aidan asks the vacant room, “Where’d you go? Not funny, man.”

The silence is deafening.