Creepy - The House That Death Forgot

Episode Date: February 19, 2018

It's late, you're tired, there's a place to rest...a place that feels different, wrong. Would you take your chances or just keep on driving? It's such a quaint little house...what's the worst that could happen***Subscribe to the show on YouTube at: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCQ3SrH_3fsROXFAjomKcUtw***Please consider supporting the podcast at Patreon.com/Creepypod or creepypod.com/support***Guest narration by Nichole Goodnight, Rhiannon MacAfee, and Dan Zapulla***Produced by Steve Blizin***Title music by Alex Aldea***Intro/Outro Narration by Joe Stofko Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

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slash creepypod. This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepypastas and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or are simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Creepy Presents

The House That Death Forgot. Written by Josh Parker With guest narration by Nicole Goodnight, Rihanna McAfee and Dan Zepula. Melinda hated driving a night. She did her best to avoid it. Short trips to the store, she just realized that she ran out of tampons or had nothing for dinner after getting home. That sort of thing happened now and then.

But she did her best not to go out after dark unless someone was coming to pick her up. So naturally, she found herself on the longest drive of her life tonight, with no moon, few stars, swirling clouds above her, and acres of forest on either side. As so many unpleasant things in her life, This was her father's fault. She hadn't seen her spoken to the bastard in 15 years, but just after falling asleep tonight,

no, that was wrong. It would be yesterday by this time. Out of the blue, her phone rang, and his voice was on the other end. I need you, Mellie. Please come, now. He'd said just that. and then the line went dead.

The old ass was probably drunk, but he'd never called her before. Not since she was a child and he was still trying to convince her mother to take him back. It felt like she'd been dreaming, waking up to hear his voice again after all these years. It sounded like he was crying. His voice sounded just the same as the last time she'd heard it.

As though in a dream, she had risen, dressed, and gotten in the car. She was well out of town and halfway to his old place before realizing that she had no way of knowing if he even still lived there. She received updates from her mother from time to time over the years about where he was. The last time she heard from her mother about him was seven years ago. Had he ever stayed in one place that long? Not to her recollection. She'd been seven when her mother finally had had a little. enough and showed him the door.

Prior to that, a move would come every few months. The house they'd been living in was her longest stay in one place, a full 16 months. It turned into two years after that, and then the next house had been the one that she left when she moved out on her own. In all that time, she heard from him sporadically at best, and finally decided it was best to simply forget about him. Until tonight. She'd found out after a two-hour drive that she'd been right to wonder if he was still in the same place.

His last known address was a sketchy apartment in a low-income area of town she'd grown up in. Had he been number 24 or number 42? Maybe he was 14. It definitely had a 4. It didn't matter. His name wasn't on any of the buzzers. Bastard. Her drunk of a father had called her at night.

All but demanding, she'd come get him for reasons. He didn't even feel were important enough to tell her over the phone. And then just expected she would know where he lived now. In a flurry of rage, she turned and marched back to her car, slamming the door and starting off in the direction she came. She was so angry she didn't even look where she was going and missed her turnoff. The next thing she knew, she was on this lonely. stretch a road. Cars were sparse, but she took some comfort in the fact that she would

pass one every half hour or so. Her dashboard clock now read 2.27 a.m. She'd been driving for more than five hours since leaving her house. At night. Every five minutes or so, she checked her cell phone. Ever since realizing she was lost, she'd checked her phone and found no bars at all. She even stopped at a gas station, closed of course. Just sure there should be some service around here somewhere, but nothing. Take stock of your life, Mellie. You're over 30, you hate your job. You and your mother don't get along. You haven't seen or spoken to your father and just under half your life. You have no time for your friends or a relationship thanks to the aforementioned job you hate. And now here you have.

are. Trapped on a road you've never been on before, at night, and you can't even so much as call AMA, let alone check Google Maps. Smart lady, you are. She briefly considered stopping and flaking down the next car that passed. She quickly realized a futility of that plan. Any car on this road would also have no service. So there was nothing for it. She'd have to drive until she phoned a house. She'd feel bad for waking someone up, but there was no choice. She needed to find her way back to the main highway. But so far, all she could see on either side was trees. Mile after mile trees.

No lights shining through the bows. No sign that anyone had ever been here before except that there was a road, and people were obviously still driving on it. There weren't even any road signs as in the mile markers. Had she really found the middle of nowhere? She was just in the middle of this thought when her headlights illuminated something just up the road. A square wooden sign, obviously made by someone other than the government. This wasn't a gas food lodging sign or a mile marker or a distance two sign.

This looked like the kind of sign advertising a private business was nearby. She slowed down to read it. Granny Royce's Roadhouse. Come stay the night at Granny's. She'll take good care of you. Room, board, low prices. Next exit. Her heart sped up.

She certainly wasn't interested in spending the night at Granny Royces, but every business had a phone. At the very least, she'd have a map. Or another way back to the highway. She decided she would stop there. She almost missed a turn. Granny Royce's roadhouse was buried at the back of a long dirt driveway, secluded amid the trees. She was almost past a little dirt road that led back to it before she realized it was there.

She skidded to a stop and turned in. The little house lay ahead. It was two stories and looked to have about eight or ten rooms. Big for a home, but small for anything, an ounceing room and bored. She got closer and looked for a vacancy sign. Nothing. It wasn't that the sign wasn't lit. There was no sign.

The porch light was on and the front of the building was illuminated by that light and by her headlights. No signs of any kind. She almost wondered if she got into the wrong place, but she was certain that she'd seen no other exits between this house and the sign announcing it. She paused in the driveway and took out her cell again. Still no service. She did a quick search for any available wireless signals. To her complete lack of surprise, there were none.

Not even any secured. There's no one here but me. This point, she wouldn't be surprised to find the house empty as well. But the light was on, and this was supposed to be a roadhouse. Someone would be manning the front desk. She got out of the car and headed for the front porch. as she turned around to make sure the lights flashed when she hit the lock button on her fob. She thought she could see a flashing movement in the trees.

Something human-shaped. She stopped and looked again. Nothing. She decided she imagined it. At the front door, she hesitated. If it really was a roadhouse, then she should be able to just go on in. But what if she got the wrong house? She tried the door and just walked in.

She could find herself arrested out here in butt-fuck nowhere. Cautiously, she tried the knob. It turned. She pressed gently on the door. It opened. Relief flooded through when she saw that she was in a small but tastefully decorated foyer that had obviously been repurposed as an admissions area. A quaint desk with an honest-to-god guest book had been placed in the far right corner

and some chairs have been set out, along with magazines on a table. She read the titles briefly. Mademoiselle, Blue Book, the new country life, arts and architecture, before turning her attention to the little desk. There wasn't a computer. That was a cute touch.

It was like the house was from a past era. Perhaps old Granny Royce didn't like modern technology. There was, however, a little, little bell, just like there would have been in 1929. It wasn't even a round silver kind you slapped a ring. It was a little porcelain handbell. This place was staring to out cute her. Please let her have a phone and please let it use the number plan, not 50s exchanges.

She picked up the bell and gave it a shake. For a while, nothing happened. Then she saw a light come on in the back room in shadows of a an old woman sprang up on the wall. The shadows moved towards her, and within seconds she saw its owner. Granny Royce, who perhaps looked like every grandmother and every storybook ever. Well, goodness me, my lands. Good morning, dearie.

Pardon my tardiness, but it's been a while since we got guests at this hour. Can I take your name, honey? Granny Royce was smallish. Her gray hair tied in a knee. bun behind her head, a dress that would have looked like it belonged to a senior citizen in the 20s, and a faded pink sweater. Linda thought that she looked just like she would have wanted her own grandmother to look like, but her mother's mother had died when she was young, and she'd never met her father's mother. It almost hurt to deny this sweet little woman or business, but nevertheless,

she had to get home. Actually, I'm sorry, but the fact is I'm lost. I'm not even sure where I am in the direction of... Oh, you poor thing. Oh, you just sit down and let me fix you some tea or something. Oh, you must be cold. Really? Thank you, but I'm okay. I just need to use the phone if I could.

Or if you've got a map, even that would be lovely. I really only live a couple of hours from here. She trailed off, not knowing if she was even right about that. She easily could have driven those five-plus hours in the wrong direction entirely. Oh, dear. I'm sorry, honey, but the phone lines are down. As for a map, well, I used to have one. And if I look, I still might, but it's probably quite out of date by now.

The highway has moved since then. I know that much. Melinda's heart sank. How could her luck get any worse? No phone, cell or landline, and no map. What could she do? She had to get back home. She was expected to work at 8 a.m. tomorrow.

And why were the phone lines down? The weather was coldish but clear. Were they fixing a line nearby? She told Granny Royce the name of her town, but Granny only said. Oh, believe it or not, I've never heard of that town. What did you say the name was? She told her again. No, doesn't ring a bell, I'm sorry.

I couldn't say which direction it's in. Why don't you stay the night, sweetie? I'll give you a discount for your trouble. Oh, thank you. You know, that's very kind of you, but I have work tomorrow and I need to get back home. I'm not even sure why I'm out tonight. The only reason I had doesn't seem to matter anymore. Honey, I wouldn't advise trying to drive back that far tonight.

Why, it's almost three in the morning and you've not had any sleep. Maybe the lines will be up in the morning and you can call your work and let them know you'll be late. That won't work either. I'm the opener. No one will be there. No, I'm sorry. I've really got to leave. I'll head in the other direction until I find the road I was on.

At that, Granny Royce's expression, already one of kind of concern, seemed to shift somewhat, to one of fear. She paused, looking at Melinda as though she wanted to say something else to keep her inside. Finally, she said reluctantly. All right, honey. If you're sure, just... You'll be careful now. Don't speak to nobody until you're back on the road. That last warning seemed a little silly.

After all, what was Melinda? A little girl? She thanked Granny Royce for her kindness and headed back to the car. About halfway to the car, she remembered thinking she saw something moving in the trees. Her eyes scanned both sides of the secluded, little cleared area she was in. Looking for anything that appeared to be moving on its own rather than being blown by the slight wind, she saw nothing.

Satisfied, she headed for her car. All four tires were flat. God damn it! She leaned down and saw long slash marks on each tire. Someone in this little slice of green acres had slashed her tires in the time of the time of it took her to find out that she had no way of contacting anyone tonight. Kids from a local farmhouse, gotta be. Nothing else to do, so you might as well go out at night and slash tires.

She stopped and let the reality sink in. She wasn't going anywhere tonight. She had no choice now. She had to stay the night here until morning, when hopefully the phone lines would be up and she could call someone from work to ask them to go in for her. and that AMA to get her tires dealt with. She sighed and walked back in the house.

She could hear Granny Royce as she was walking back to her room. She had already turned off the lights. Resigned to her fate. Melinda rang the little bell again. Is that you, miss? Yes, it's me. Sorry to be a bother. My name is Melinda Orton.

and sorry I never mentioned it before. I guess I will take a room for the night, if the offer is still good. Oh, of course it is, dearie, said Granny Royce, reentering the room and turning the lights back on. Melinda. Oh, that's such a pretty name, honey. Let's get you situated. You put your name and arrival time in the book there, and I'll get you a key. All the boarding rooms are on the second floor.

and there's only a couple left. There are others here? This was surprising. Not a single car had been in the front lawn when she pulled in. Oh, yes, Miss Melinda. Granny was putting around in the adjacent room. Mr. Norris, young Calvin, there's a few of us here. She came back out with a key in her hand.

Just out of curiosity. What made you change your mind? She seemed to brighten as she asked the question. Is there relieved of Maloney's a little? Linda would stay after all. Oh, it's probably just the local kids getting kicks. But I found my tires slashed. Granny stopped suddenly.

Her face twisted with concern and worry. Then she resumed, as though nothing was wrong. Nothing to be done for it, I suppose. She said with an air of sadness. Well, not until morning at any rate. Then hopefully the lines will be up. said Granny Royce, distractedly. Yes, hopefully.

She led Melinda up the darkened staircase into an empty quiet hall, or perhaps not so quiet. From one end of the hall came the muffled sounds of someone crying. Whoever it was was crying softly, not with anger or petulance or fear, but with deep sadness. It sounded a little. as if crying was something this person was used to,

but they were still unable to stop. Who is that? She said, pointing in the direction the crying was coming from. Oh, pay that no mind, honey. That's just Mr. Norris. He's been like that a while. Older man, you understand. Not all there.

She tapped her temple. I understand. Melinda replied, but wondered privately how an old out-of-touch man would wind up at a roadhouse. Has he been here long? A while, I'd say. Don't really recall how long exactly? How does he pay for his room and board? I guess he doesn't drive.

Actually, it doesn't look like anyone else here has a car. Granny started at this, looking up with an almost guilty expression. Oh, well, that kind of thing is the business of the guests. I don't ask about such things. She turned the key in the lock of the room she led Melinda to and opened the door. Turning on the light, she showed Melinda the quaint little room. Linda thought it looked like stepping into the past. She could swear this room would have looked modern in the late 50s, at the earliest.

Come to think of it, so could the rest of this place. No wireless service, no computer, that old bell. Those magazines, they looked new, but... That thought was cut off as Granny put the key on the nightstand and started in with the instructions. Now the bathroom is down the hallway there. You'll be sharing with the whole floor, so please bear that in mind if you have to go.

There's a shower schedule on the door as well. First come, first serve. You just add your name to the first available line, and that's the order the showers are in. I wouldn't worry about that if I were you, though. I'm sure you'll be first in line. I get up at 6 a.m. sharp every morning and start breakfast, but you come on down whenever you're ready, and I'll whip something up for you.

Oh, and one last thing, my dear. I would strongly advise you not to leave the house until sun up. You just never know what could happen out there. in the dark. Of course. I'd never go out there in the dark if I didn't have to. She stopped that train to thought right out of the gate. After a few moments, she was alone.

Alone, without anything to wear to bed and nothing to shower, brush her teeth or hair with in the morning. She sat on the bed and looked out the window, which faced front. Her car still sat where she left it. The only thing for miles that seemed like part of her world. And an expensive, over large paperweight until I can get a hold of someone. Despite the hominess of the room, she felt an unwillingness to rise and shut off the light. Somehow the thought of going to sleep in this backward little room seemed unthinkable.

So instead, she continued to sit and stare out the window. A figure in black detached itself from the shadows of the trees and made its way to her car. The hell? She jumped up and ran at the window. The figure was tall. It seemed to be wearing a cloak made of a night. She saw as its arms extended. In its hand was a long jaged dagger.

It dragged the dagger across the side of her car, leaving a long gash mark in the paint and metal. Hey The figure kept dragging the dagger She reached for the window to open it It wouldn't budge She looked for the lock but couldn't see one Hey This time the figure raised its head

She could see the glint of two eyes under the hood The figure raised the dagger Slowly Determinally when it is straight at her face She leapt away from the window and ran for the door The noise on the other side stopped her Footsteps Dragging, shambling footsteps

The sound of a person for whom deep longing sadness is a way of life Mr. Norris She waited Somehow she just felt that she could let the old man pass Before she opened the door Before he got very far however she heard other footsteps. These much quicker and lighter

ran up the stairs and stopped me to the front of her door. Back in your room right now, you know better. She can't see you yet. Hopefully she won't have to at all. Now you go back in there. You've got no business being out at this hour anyway. What on earth? How could that sweet old woman talk to another human that way?

Let alone an old man with a foggy mind. She almost opened the door right then, but somehow her hand stopped and waited until the shuffling, crying man had made his way back down the hallway. She heard his door open. She opened her own door just in time to see his foot, shot in a well-worn house shoe, slide into his room. The door closed softly after him. That poor man. But now she was determined to find out what was going on. The punk outside in the Halloween costume slashed up her car, followed by Granny yelling at an old man,

made her begin to understand that not all was well here. She went back down to the front desk area, which was completely unlit except for the moonlight and porchlight coming through the window. There was, however, a light on near the back room that Granny Royce had emerged from. Melinda paused to take a look outside the front window. The maniac with the day eager was nowhere to be seen for the moment, but she was now determined that it was he that she had seen moving through the trees. He could have killed me. She strode in the direction of the light,

seeing that it was the light to the kitchen. She kept going, expecting to find Granny Roy still puttering about with whatever an old innkeeper did with herself during the early hours of the morning. Instead, she found Granny Royce with a young man of about twenty. He had dark hairs and a scruff of stubble and was wearing a dark brown corduroy shirt and khakis, along with a pork pie hat. It looked like he was ready to go sell newspapers on a street corner in the 30s. He was quietly sipping tea while Granny was admonishing him from the other end of the table.

Now what a horrible thing to say when I was your age, young men minded their manners? That's a laugh talking about my age. muttered the young man with a sneer. And just how old are you? Do you even remember? Calvin Davidson, you are trouble, young man. Neither had noticed Melinda yet. One of these days you're going to say something you'll regret.

Oh, come on, Granny. What could I possibly say that'll make things worse than they already are? I mean, look at old Mr. Norris up there. Both of us are old... Oh, um... Hello, miss. I didn't know we had anyone else here. He had just seen Melinda. Uh, hi.

She had the feeling she'd walked in on an old argument to do with them had many times, and that did not concern her. Her fear and anger were forgotten for the moment. Kelvin had been talking to Granny like a sullen kid, but something about what they were saying seemed wrong. Can I help you, Melinda? Is there something wrong with your room? That brought her back.

No. The room is fine, but nothing else is. I mean, why on earth do you even have a roadhouse out here where it seems like no one ever stops? Why are most of the rooms full, even though mine is the only car out there? Why did I hear you talking to Mr. Norris like he was a dog? And why would you want to make sure I didn't see him? She got no further before Kelvin cut her off. Good Lord, she's not even been here a night and she can see it.

Why'd you even let her in, Granny? Why don't you just bolt the door? Hell, if I could go take down that sign, don't you think I would have by now? Lord, love a duck. There's something you don't hear many young men say. She decided to ignore Calvin for the moment. And besides that, there's someone out there. He's the freak who slashed my tires and he's been out there messing up my car.

since then. And you can't even call the police. Are you going to tell me you've never had vandals out here before? There's a long pause in the room. Neither Granny nor Kelvin seemed willing to break it. Kelvin scratched at his neck. For the first time, Melinda noticed a red slashed his throat, half hidden by his collar. It looked like either a very fresh scar or a slightly healed wound. Listen, miss, I don't know your name. Melinda. Melinda. Melinda, I think you should sit down.

I have to tell you something that you may find troubling. Melinda didn't not like how he said that. She also didn't like the way his tone had switched from so on child to serious adult. He looked several years her junior, but he was talking to her like he was her uncle or boss. He swallowed a sip of tea inside. Then he looked straight in the face and said, The reason I don't have a car out there is that when I got here, no one my age, no one in my line of work would have owned a car. Would have seemed like an impossible dream. What are you talking about? I worked in a textile mill. The mill was shut down by the time I got here.

most businesses were. So I struck out on my own, a drifter looking for what work I could find. I stopped here, forever. Businesses were shut down. I don't understand. We're having a rough time of it right now, but businesses are mostly staying open.

Not then they weren't. I arrived here in 1929. "'Mondered, something had exploded behind her eyes. "'This place was new, then. "'My man and I had just opened it, "'and young Mr. Calvin was a sweet young lad of sixteen. "'I offered to take him on as hired help over my husband's objections. "'Well, my husband was a well-meaning man,

"'but he knew how to pinch a penny. "'Twas a year after I took Calvin on that Mr. Royce, died. Calvin and I have been here ever since. And every few years or so, someone joins us. Yep. Kelvin broke in. Miss Tilly was first. She was a woman of ill repute who ran here, pregnant and scared that the man who'd run her trade up in New York was going to find her and kill her. She and that baby. He broke off, now seeming on the point of tears. And then, it was he, it was. was Mr. Standish.

He was a traveling minister. He doesn't travel anymore. Mr. Norris got here in 69. His story is probably the worst. He was a... Well, he was a bank robber, you see. Carried a pistol. Now, he didn't like learning

how long we had all been here. He tried to leave on his own, you see. He ain't the first to try it. That was me, actually. I warned him not to try, but he wouldn't listen. When he got outside, and he met him. Calvin, we don't talk about this. She's got to know.

There's no point in her finding out slowly. There is still a chance for till morning. She's not going to wait till morning. Said Kelvin with some remorse in his voice. No one ever waits till morning. The fact that she came down here is proof enough of that. Besides, what good would that have really done her? Cars useless.

We have no phones here. There was no phone when this place went up and there won't never be a phone here. You know that. Okay, everyone, stop. That's enough. Now, you can't keep me prisoner here and I have no intention of staying any longer. Only that knife-wielding maniac out there is keeping me from running up the road this minute. Now, I need to know what's really going on here, and I need to know it now.

We've been telling you. Granny may not want you to know everything, but you need to, because you won't be leaving. Oh, we're not trying to keep you prisoner. I don't even care if you run out that door right now, but you'll never leave this house again after. Like how I won't. Listen, child.

Said Granny, rising from her spot at the table. Listen, please, none of us mean you any harm, my dear, not even Mr. Norris. There's scant he can do any more, and he knows. That's why he's up there crying all the time, but we're stuck here. All of us. I hope there was a chance for you to run for it in the morning, but Calvin's right. There's no guarantee you'd be safe in the morning anyhow. What the hell is wrong with this place?

She was beginning to break down. She could feel the tears welling in her eyes. It was about a month after me. Mr. Royce died. When he came, he was wearing that long black robe and carrying that ridiculous dagger. I saw him when I was trimming the hedges in the back. I told him he needed to get out of here because I didn't like his look. He, he moved so fast I never saw it coming.

And he got me from here. Calvin touched his neck. To here. He touched his lower abdomen on the opposite side from the neck slash. He began to undo his shirt Melinda almost vomited Under his shirt was a long ugly slash that went deep And it was still seeping blood

She could see bone, muscle, and intestines Wiggling within that mangled ruin I died that night But then I didn't The next thing I knew I was being dragged into the house by Granny and when I woke up, I nearly scared her to death. She was sure that I was gone, and the thing is, I was. But I was awake.

I could talk and walk and do anything I could while alive, well, except take any enjoyment or nourishment from food or drink anymore. I still drink that tea because it keeps my skin from turn and ash gray. I learned that about 50 years ago. Go away, though. Granny broke in. I went out to deal with him carrying my axe. He took my axe and buried it in my back.

I won't show you the wound, honey. Calvin shouldn't have shown you his either. No one should have to see it. But that's how he works, Melinda. He's got that knife, but if you try to use a weapon on him, he just moves like he does and takes it from you. You never stand a chance. He'll use whatever weapon you try to take him down with to end you.

Mr. Norris learned that the hard way. This is not happening. Melinda was ready to break down. She had to hold it together. She had to get out of your somehow. Nothing about this was right. Nothing about it could be real. It was all a dream.

Too much didn't make sense. Her father, calling out of the blue, her leaving to go to him without a second thought, getting lost so quickly and so irreversibly. No cell phone service anywhere on this road. This place, everything about it. She was dreaming. That had to be it. But if so, she was going to survive this dream.

She turned and ran for the stairs. Her purse was still in her room, but she was going to grab it and go. go, she'd had enough. Protesting voices began babbling behind her. She cared not one whit. Mr. Norris was waiting at the top of the stairs. Contrary to Granny Royce's description of him, he was not old at all. No more than about 40, but she saw instantly what she meant by not all there.

The top half of Mr. Norris' head looked normal. like a reasonably attractive man with dark hair peppered with gray here and there. His eyes, a clear green, were moist with fresh tears. The lower half of his face was a ruin of bone fragments, shredded muscle, and blood. So much blood. His left side was similarly destroyed. His arm hung on a few hanging strings of muscle. His hip was just as much a mess of bone and blood.

as his face was. He kept his one good hand on the banister as he shuffled toward her. Behind him stood a young woman in a bra and a pair of panties. Her stomach was cut open. And looking out of the wound, with bright, intelligent eyes, was the mangled remains of a baby. Melinda turned and bolted for the front door. Her hand was just closed around the knot. when Kelvin rushed up to her, placing his freezing cold hand over hers.

They're not going to hurt you, but he will. If you step out for so much as a moment, he will kill you and it will hurt. And it will go on hurting. Forever. After a while, you learn to function with the pain, but it never goes away. sobbing She asked the question She'd been afraid to ask since coming here Who is he? We don't know

Said Granny from behind Kelvin He just came here And he won't go away He likes to watch us And do things to incite us to come out again As soon as someone does He hurts them more But no matter how many times he kills us, we don't die.

Believe me when I say, we all wish we could. Melinda had had enough of this. She pushed Kelvin away and threw open the door. Was standing on the porch. The knife was held out in front of him just at face level. Melinda ran into him at a rush, knife puncturing her right eye. and its tips sliding on through. Out the other side,

she managed to see the grinning, pure white face of her killer. Before everything went black. A few hours later, the house erupted with screams from upstairs as Melinda awoke to a world of pain, the likes of which she'd never know. For more information,

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