Free Nightcrawler Tales: Open House by Eric Hobbs Page B

led Isaiah through the house, sure to mention any amenities of interest. It seemed a little rehearsed, but Isaiah played his part, asking questions when it was appropriate so Andrew wouldn't feel like he had wasted his time.
       They went upstairs together, the old wood of the staircase yielding a moan of protest beneath their feet.
       "Master bedroom's at the end of the hall," Andrew explained.
       "You aren't coming?"
       "W-what?" Andrew stammered. "No. I should stay by the front door... in case... well... in case anyone else should come."
       Isaiah studied his expression. His attitude had changed, it seemed. He was quiet now. Subdued. Andrew had ditched the salesman shtick. When he talked about the master bedroom he almost seemed to be asking a question. Like, Is the master at the end of the hall? Or, Do you really want to go into the master? All at once, Isaiah was curious to know exactly why Andrew was selling but felt it was probably rude to ask.
       He went through the motions, poking his head into one of the bedrooms before stepping into another and eyeing a closet he had no intentions of opening – not after the last one. He continued on, stopping to spend an appropriate amount of time in the hall's bathroom before turning his attention to the bedroom Andrew had mentioned.
       The master bedroom wasn't empty like the rest of the house. In fact, it had the cluttered look of a room that was very well lived in. The bed was unmade. Last night's dirty clothes were piled near a cluttered dresser. Isaiah found it curious Andrew had left the room in such a state, but he was thrown completely off balance by something else.
       The cherry bedroom suite looked just like his.
       "I thought you said the place was empty?"
       Isaiah turned to find Andrew was no longer standing atop the staircase. He'd retreated down the stairs just as he promised.
       Isaiah stepped through the doorway, and his stomach knotted. He couldn't understand why the sight of a bedroom suite had left him in such a state. But it was more than the furniture. It was everything. The clothes, the clutter, the way only one side of the bed had been slept in – it all seemed a bit too familiar.
       The room was particularly large for a house this age, its main feature a cozy reading nook that looked out on the wooded backyard. A huge maple tree stood just outside the window. Too close, really. Its gnarled branches reached for the house in a way that was sure to scare Brian in the darkness of night. Isaiah guessed it was older than the neighborhood and assumed no one felt they could chop the relic down when they settled in the area more than a century ago. So it stayed, for a hundred years, looming at the window like an ancient custodian of the property.
       Isaiah was ready to leave when another gruesome thought tried to take over. This time, though, Isaiah was ready, latching the door of his mind before the idea was able to kick it down and come inside. He forced his eyes from the knotted tree and moved them to a cracked door that led into the last room of the house: the master bath.
       There was a thick stench of mold hanging in the air, almost more than Isaiah could stomach. A toothbrush broke under his foot as he entered the dark room, flipping a switch on the wall to no avail. His eyes adjusted quicker than he expected, and he saw all the drawers had been pulled open in the vanity beneath the sink. The mirror above the sink had shatter-lines that worked together in creating a spiderweb effect, splitting the mirror into a dozen puzzle pieces, each offering its own reflection of Isaiah, the bathroom... and the small boy standing in the doorway behind him.
       Isaiah whipped around but found he was still alone. His mind was playing tricks on him again, it seemed. Although, Isaiah was beginning to suspect the Taylor house had gotten in on the fun. His mind and its new friend were having a grand ol' time, too. After all, Isaiah