Part 1: The Dare – by Kevin Ross

So how would YOU sneak out of your house on Halloween night? The bully Roger Simmons had targeted his prey for his “I double-dog Dare you” to spend the night in the haunted old Barnaker house. For Joey, it was simply walking out the backdoor leaving his younger siblings in charge of their parents drunk on the couch. The athlete Darren said he was tired from his late ball practice; so, went to bed early for his early morning weekend practice. Then just waited for silence downstairs to slip out his window. Rich had recorded himself snoring and looping that, he placed the tape-player under his pillow, arranged other pillows to shape a false body and left home. Harry…as normal his parents fell asleep on the couch so he just walked out the front door. Charles picked through his Halloween collection of candy, leaving his single-dad with his favorites to munch on while he too watched TV. Allowing Charles to slip out his bedroom window.

Each by his own means made it to the old house where Roger stood gloating. “Well, well. You made it this far; but can you stay the night without your balls sucking back into their sac? Oh yeah, yours haven’t dropped yet. I’ll follow you in to make certain you don’t chicken out.” Joey stood his ground; big enough and bad enough to whoop the jackass…if it wasn’t for Roger’s big brother Ace in high school who’d surely come to his defense. Rich too puffed his chest in defiance, “Are we talking or walking? There’s the door.” Rich came armed with his baseball bat. Charles wielded his #2 pencil while the youngest member Harry (10) held out his recorder to interview all participants for his report on fear, “So how do you feel right now?”

The rusty wrought-iron fence couldn’t contain the overgrown weeds and brush run rampant through the Barnaker yard. The gate already open and inviting. A two-story house with all its windows boarded. The dilapidated house looking scarier with the backdrop of storm clouds and their occasional flash of lightning. A nasty storm brewing. Each kid announcing the rumors he’d heard of the house. “Haunted by the ghost of an old woman. She lures kids inside to kill them and bury them in the backyard. I heard she cooks then eats them. I heard she drowned them in the pond out back. Some nights you can see her carrying a lantern room to room. Some nights you can hear crying and wailing.” Roger using the cue to taunt, “I think tonight will be one of those cry-baby nights.”

Joey and Rich stepped to the door, “Let’s get this over with to shut this craphole up.” The others followed. Roger right behind, taunting them with a key in hand, “I was here earlier today and unlocked it for you. And will lock it once you step inside. Stuck for the whole night till the light of dawn. Unless…I hid another key somewhere inside. Find it and you can leave early. I even placed candles to brighten the place up. And so I can see your frightened little faces.”

Cobwebs rustled in the corners from the rush of storm air once the front door was opened. The stench of rat urine and decay assaulted their noses. But they forged inside. Darren already checking out the grandfather clock; vandalized of its moving parts. So much for his idea of using it to keep time. Charles approached the row of pedestals topped with potted-plants (thriving despite the lack of water and sunshine? Yet reeking of decay?!). Tipping the first in search of the key. Roger with an irritating laughter, “You really think it would be that simple and near?” Again, bravado from the older boys, “We’ve got till dawn; you might as well give us a tour of your mom’s house.”

The kids splitting up: Harry/Darren/Charles to the right dining room. Joey and Rich with Roger in trail to the left parlor room. Harry already scanning the ceiling, “That large water spot means the upstairs floor will be weak.” Charles upping his armory with a lone metal fork while Darren moved around the dining table to checkout the cabinets. Broken china. “What’d ya find?” was answered by Darren tossing a plate at Harry…who jumped as it shattered.

Meanwhile, in the other room, Joey and Rich spotted a tattered old backpack propped on the fireplace mantel. A mad rush, both tugging till the bag split spilling its contents. Joey claimed a flask (with whiskey inside) while Rich picked up the roll of dollar bills (“ya snooze, ya lose”) and the tobacco pouch and paper, going thru the motions of rolling a smoke. And picking up a pocketknife and sewing kit also spilled out.

In his own taunt, Joey opened the flask and tipped it to his lips before offering to Roger who scoffed at the idea, “Yeah, right.” Joey continued by pulling a cigarette out of his pants pocket and putting it to his lips. Joe cool! As Roger watched and snickered, Rich wrapped a tattered rag around a broken chair leg and tried to sneak up on the bully to tickle his ear with the cloth. Hoping for a jump at a believed spider. Sounded good till Rich accidently kicked an empty bean can, “What da ya think you’re doing?! Sneak up on me? You can’t scare me you little dweeb.” Undeterred, Rich fiddled with the fireplace. Someone had tried to start a fire. Maybe the flue was closed. He jiggled the handle which was stuck. He put his shoulder into it…and out tumbled a decayed raccoon. All flinched at the sight but managed to stay calm.

And that’s when Harry entered the room to ask, “Roger, how do you feel about tegenaria domestica? You know, the spider crawling on your back.” Roger brushed at the non-existent thing, drawing a harrumph out of the ‘Know-It-All’ Harry speaking into his recorder, “Roger is not afraid of spiders.” Meanwhile, alone in the dining room, Charles whispered toward the water-stained ceiling, “Mother?” And in reply, the sound of rats scurrying inside the walls and ceiling space. Followed by the close crack of thunder and flash of lightning and the hard pelting of large raindrops on what was left of the rotting shingled roof tiles.

Tension was growing as Roger traded barbs with Joey and his sidekick Rich. Joey acting the tough guy, “I’ll assume you planted the raccoon. Funny. You’re boring me.” Rich raised an eyebrow at the thought of his bike left in the rain, “Damn, I hope the chain doesn’t rust.” Harry voicing more concerns, “First rat urine and filth. I bet this house is leaky and we’ll get even sicker.” And that’s when the group split. Darren staying down stairs to explore another room further down the hall. The others climbing the staircase to an intermediate landing with a bathroom just to the right. Harry having to scream to be heard over all the bantering, “I said be careful. That bathroom is right over the dining room that has a large water-stain. I’m guessing the floor is weak. Don’t step in the middle. But it would be a good place to hit the key in the toilet bowl.”

Charles scanned the floor for mold and evidence of a once overflown tub. Possible. Then his eyes wandered to the stained mirror over the sink. His grandmother Mildred looking back at him. A pleasant smile that quickly turned into a wicked grin with stained and crooked teeth. [Failed Sanity] Charles squealed as he turned to look behind. Only the other kids. “Did you see her? My grandmother? I swear.” The others turned to look behind, finding nothing. “Who you trying to scare; it was just your own ugly reflection.” They continued up to the 2^nd floor finding more mildew, rot, and wet ceiling. The wind and pelting rain assaulting their ears while the mixture of unimaginable scents assaulting their nose.

Downstairs, Darren entered the kitchen. Safety first, using his aluminum bat, he broke the lock on the frig, “Wouldn’t want one of us trapped inside.” The stench of rotting meat and food made him reconsider the now loose seal. As for the stove; inside he found ashes and bones. He shrugged his shoulders with the passing memory of the rumors of children cooked. He rummaged through cupboards and draws just in case Roger hid the key there. He glanced at an interior door with stairs down to a basement. Instead, he walked over to an old-style crank phone. Dead but with time and tools possibly fixable. Onward to explore across the hall when the phone rang. And rang. Darren picked up the receiver…static, then a distorted voice, that settled to a motherly voice, “Hello my dearie.” Followed by crackling and an electric jolt! Causing Darren to yelp, “Ouch!”

Upstairs, Joey and Harry heard a phone then a yelp and rushed downstairs with the others following. Joey collided with Darren exiting the kitchen holding his ringing ear, “The phone…it shocked me!” Joey thought loose wires and short-circuit, Rich remembered warnings to stay off of phones during storms. Harry explained how cranking the phone built up the charge, “If it had been a lightning strike, you’d be dead.” Comforting.

Charles entered to check out the phone he considered a means to contact mom. “Have any of you watched the movie Poltergeist? I don’t like to talk about it, but 5 years ago my mother and younger brother Jack were killed in a car accident. The movie makes me think MAYBE they’re just in another dimension. This house a conduit. Just like I saw my dead grandmother; maybe I can contact them and pull them across dimensions.” Joey summed it up, “Weirdo.”

The topic too much for Darren to handle as he immediately headed for the basement stairs, “Anyone, except Charles, joining me?” Rich peered into the darkness, “I see Roger was too afraid to visit it as there are no candles to light the way. Let me grab some candles and join you.” Thus once again the kids split up, with Joey/Harry/Charles up the stairs to the 2^nd floor to enter the first room on the left. With Roger trailing them.

The scent gagging even more inside this room that contained a queen bed center-stage, a discolored mirror, and a closet in the corner. And from the stench, maybe another dead animal. Harry pondered, “Maybe we’ll find skeletons.” Joey checked the bed while Harry jiggled the locked closet handle. The stench even worse. Charles on his knees checked under the bed. Bored, Roger turned to find the upstairs bathroom.

And that’s when the closet lock clicked open. Everything in slow motion. A towering body tumbled out of the closet. Joey thought it someone jumping out to attack. Harry screamed [failed Sanity, -11 points] and tried to backpedal but slipped in a growing puddle of blood at his feet. The falling body pressed Harry to the floor. Harry face to face with the decaying corpse, almost yelling into its open mouth. Charles on the other side of the bed and thus didn’t see but heard the screams now from both Harry and Joey [failed Sanity, -4 points]. Joey rushed to aid trying to kick the body off Harry. Finally succeeding. Which freed Harry who jumped to his feet in flight out the room and down the hall screaming all the way. Charles finally stood to notice Joey over a body, before Mr. Tough Guy, also screaming, turned to run after Harry. Pulling the room door shut behind him. 

Leaving Charles alone to finally stare and comprehend the scene [failed Sanity, -4 points]. A double-take at the body to notice its left hand missing. An eye also missing. Along with his lips…eaten away by rats. Slow recognition what remained of the homeless man seen wandering the streets up to a month ago. Charles turned to run only to be stopped by the closed door…that wouldn’t open! It’s jammed. Or really, Charles too panicked to realize he pushed instead of pulled. “Wait for me! Why’d you lock me in?! Harry? Joey? ROGER?!”

His mind racing…the hand…the missing hand…his spook story readings about severed hands…the hand that did the misdeed…a ‘Hand of Glory’…each finger made into an individual candle. As long as a candle stayed lit, provided light only for the holder. Can lock or unlock any door to maintain control of a house. And that’s when the bedroom door opened! Charles quickly exited, “Where are you guys?!”

Meanwhile, Darren and Rich, with candles in hand, descended the creaky stairs into a basement workshop. Stone outer walls and an uneven flat-rock floor. Small boarded windows rung the large room. The air unnaturally humid. A coal furnace in a corner; plumbing supplies scattered among the other debris. Rich found a flickering flashlight that allowed him to place his candle on a bench to light the room as they explored. Interior doors made of mortar-n-horsehair. Doors barely hanging on their hinges implied other rooms. Darren found what looked like a study, complete with sofa, chairs, and floor-to-ceiling bookcase. “Strange. What did you find?” Rich announced the other room the coal storage. They returned to the main-room center scuffing their feet on a metal grate they’d overlooked. Rich aimed his flashlight, “A drain? A chute with handholds to get down. And side tunnels.” Darren corrected, “Secret passage. See-kret pass-a-age. SECRET PASSAGE. Roger hasn’t been down here.”

Meanwhile, hyperventilating, Harry started coming to his senses. Dark. In a room; the smell of scorched wood. His eyes slowly adjusted…a bedroom. Dresser. Boarded window with torn curtains that looked partially burned. Suddenly a crack of thunder and the flash of lightning leaked thru the boards illuminating the room. The faint sounds of someone calling his name. Harry screamed at the top of his lungs, “HELP ME!” Another crack of thunder but without the flash of light. And again. Realization something large outside the window was blocking the light. Memory of the first flash to find the door he’d spied. Stuck. “Help me!” Unwittily both Harry and Joey tugged on the door…opposed strength. A final tug pulled the door open, spilling Harry into the hallway. “I wanta go home. I wanta go home. PLEASE, take me home.”

Charles reminded they needed a key. Joey exclaimed, “I’ll break the damn door down. We’re getting out of here.” Hysterical Harry asked, “Where’s Roger? He has a key.” Bathroom? But he was nowhere to be found. They headed downstairs; Harry clinging to Joey’s back. And that’s when the dark shadowy shape crossed in front of Joey. Distracted. Missing that first step [DEX 80 but rolled 91]. He tumbled…with Harry still clinging on pulled along for the tumble [his DEX roll 99]. And once again Charles left alone. But he too had seen the shadow. And not wanting to be left behind (else Joey get to the front door and exit and shut the door again), Charles leaned across the banister hoping to slide down the staircase (faster than he could hobble). Sounded good…unwaxed railing, splinters, halfway, off balance, Charles tipped forward off the railing and fell to the floor below. Umph!

By now Rich and Darren had explored other basement rooms. They entered a pantry. Broken glass jars littered the floor. Either purposefully broken by vandals or slid off the slanted shelves. Preserved fruits and vegetables long spoiled. But there, in the back corner, an intact large jar. Darren pulled it closer…several human eyes floated in a pinkish fluid. Both kids gasp at the sight [failed Sanity]. Roger stood at the doorway, “What’d you find?” Glaring with a vacant stare. They held out the jar for him. With a maniacal laughter, Roger declined the offer, “Oh, you best hold onto that. You’ll need it where you’re going.”

And that’s when his right arm, held behind his back, swung forward with a butcher knife in hand. Without hesitating, Darren charged with his bat while Rich readied the pipe he’d picked up. But in his rush, Darren’s bat caught a pantry shelf to slow his swing that missed (rolled 98). Roger too missed in reply. Rich swung downward on Roger. On the collarbone that seemed mushier than expected. Roger laughed as he swung at the closer Darren who fought back...they both barely missed. Realizing the pipe hit didn’t seem to damage that much, Darren went for a disarming swing, hitting Roger’s arm. The squishy crunch of bone sounded as the knife clattered to the stone floor skidding out of reach.  Swing-and-a-miss from each opponent.

Darren tried to bulrush Roger hoping to knock him prone so he could grab the key, but Roger easily sidestepped the smaller kid. Rich tried to use the opening to swing for a headshot but he too missed. Desperate, Darren swept his legs and connected, knocking Roger prone. Giving Rich higher ground for his downward swing to knock him out.  A hard hit to the back which had Roger convulsing before he slumped unconscious but still alive. And that’s when the arm that had been crushed earlier split open…but instead of blood, a swarm of spiders spilled forth! Sanity loss!

And that’s when the entry grandfather clock began to chime. Joey, Harry, and Charles prone on the floor almost at its feet. The rhythmic clang of the hammer on the pipe. But the clockworks were vandalized! It continued, three, four, twelve, and a thirteenths time! More sanity loss.