Free Nightcrawler Tales: Open House by Eric Hobbs

  
       
       
       
       
       
       1. Sunday, 2:07 pm
       
    Shaken, Scott and Linda stumbled out of the house and hurried down the walk. He strode toward the pick-up parked near the curb, and she was close behind, nearly running to keep up with Scott's determined pace. All the while, Linda kept eyeing the red sign in the home's front yard: Open House, This Sunday, 1-3. It had seemed so inviting when she saw it before. Now? Now it seemed to be laughing at her.
       They quickly climbed into the truck, both doors slamming in unison. A moment later, the engine screamed, and the wheels screeched with fury, kicking up dust and leaving long ribbons of black rubber on the street behind them as they sped away.
       Neither spoke. Finally, when the house was little more than a speck in their rearview, a shaky sigh escaped Linda's lips. It was all that was left of the scream she'd been biting back since they'd seen what was waiting inside the house at 51 South Taylor.
       Scott merged onto the freeway before turning to see if Linda was okay. She was doing better, it seemed. Her color was slowly returning. There was life in her eyes again. It seemed to have done her some good, that ghostly wheeze.
       Their eyes met, and the corner of Linda's mouth twisted into a silent question.
       What was that? That wasn't real, right? It... it couldn't be.
       That was all Linda could think to call what they'd seen. It.
       Scott grinned, trying to show her everything was going to be okay. Instead, Linda felt her stomach sink. Scott was changing right before her eyes, morphing into something else. His grin turned thin and hollow. His eyes filled with a swirl of darkness that left them looking like tiny orbs of black glass. This wasn't the man she was going to marry. This was the monster she'd met while touring the Taylor house. It had clawed its way inside of Scott and was still there as they started across the bridge toward their side of town.
       Linda watched as his dark eyes fell on the road ahead of them.
       His empty grin grew. She followed his gaze and saw where his eyes had landed.
       "No! Scott, baby! Don't – "
       Scott jerked the wheel, and his Chevy went through the bridge railing so easily he felt a slight tinge of pride. His boys would talk about it over a drink tomorrow night – how strong the big block under Scott Robinson's hood had been to knock the railing free like it did. They would raise a bottle for him. His eyes were cold and dark, but he warmed to the idea of a night in his honor. The thought consumed him so thoroughly that he didn't even hear Linda screaming from the seat beside him.
       He wasn't even worried about the water waiting a hundred feet below.
       
       2. Sunday, 2:38 pm
       
    Isaiah spotted the red sign and pulled into the driveway.
       He'd already seen a number of houses, but from the car, Isaiah was feeling pretty good about this one. In fact, the old Cape Cod home almost seemed too good to be true. He quickly grabbed his copy of the Sunday paper and checked the listing to make sure it was something he could really afford.
       The yard was a good size. There'd be plenty of room for Brian and him to toss the ball around once the weather improved. The shrubs that circled the house were already blooming in a cascade of pastels that appeared incredibly vibrant on the white backdrop the house provided. He thought the picket fence was a bit much but knew others would love it on sight. The owners had done their due diligence. The home had curb appeal to spare and would suit even the most critical eye.
       Isaiah got out of his car, grinning sadly when he saw the home's wraparound porch. Boy , he thought. Brian's mom would love that.
       He'd spent a lot of nights fantasizing about a day when he and Brian's mother would finally be able to leave his tiny apartment behind for the house of their dreams. A big, wooden porch was always right at the top of her list.