Everyone was just finishing up the pizza that Bob and Anne had ordered as a "thank you" for helping with their move. It was a tiring day, but well worth it. Everything had gotten moved. Anne had been nervous that they wouldn't be able to finish it all in time, but Bob was convinced it wouldn't be a problem. It's a good thing he was right.
"Well, I'm going go now." Jim rose up off the folding chair as he spoke. "I'm exhausted, and I know you guys are too. So don't stay up too late." Jim stretched and yawned, causing his voice to crack as he spoke. He walked over to the front door and grabbed his jacket off of some boxes, turning to say a last good-bye as he walked out.
The rest of the moving party took that as a cue that they should be leaving as well. Mary and Dave stood up to leave; Jill kept including "but I really should get going" in every other sentence while otherwise making no effort to get up. Mark was yawning and looking around for his jacket.
It took another twenty minutes, but everyone finally managed to leave. Jill promised to come back first thing in the morning to help them unpack, but Anne knew that she'd be asleep until at least noon. Even then, she'd probably forget her promise and spend the day lounging around. Not that Anne blamed her, it was wonderful of everyone to help them move, but she knew that unpacking was not part of the deal.
Bob waved one last time at the door as the final car pulled away. He turned and took a good hard look at the house they had bought. Their house. Bob held his hands on his hips as he surveyed it. Of course, it wasn't as big or as grand as they had hoped their first house would be, but it was big and grand enough. And they'd gotten such a good deal on it, they couldn't really pass it up. Anne had insisted that they could use the money they saved on it to add on another room or two, and maybe re-roof it. Regardless, Bob thought it was a very good house.
He couldn't understand why the realtor hadn't been able to sell it and had come down so much on the price. Apparently the place had been on the market for almost four years, and in this area it was unheard of for a house to be listed for more than two or three months. They had had the house inspected, of course, by both the realtor's home inspector and one of their own. Neither one found anything wrong and agreed the house was a steal. The closest thing to a problem was that the guy they had hired recommended that they may need to have it re-roofed in seven or eight years, since the shingles were just starting to wear.
Bob stretched his arms out and started to run back into the house. Almost immediately, he changed his mind as his legs ached and threatened to buckle under him. He glanced at his watch - 8:30. It had been a full day, but it wasn't that late. Bob yawned. It was late enough, though, and he decided they should get to bed.
Inside, Anne was unpacking pots and pans, stacking them in the sink for lack of any better place to put them. She was tired as well, but wanted to get at least a start on the unpacking before going to bed. She hated leaving things untidy.
"Where are the sheets and pillows?" Bob called over his shoulder while locking the front door. "We both should get to bed."
He turned around to see her unpacking and chuckled.
"I mean it, up to bed now."
"But I just want to get some unpacking done. I'll come to bed in a few minutes. I have no idea where the sheets are, but the pillows should be up on the bed. Go clean it off and I'll be up in a little bit."
"Well, you could put your unpacking energy into cleaning off the bed instead of trying to put away pots, right?" Bob had his 'pathetic but still cute' look on his face and Anne laughed at him.
"You're a big baby," she said. "But fine, I'll go clean off the bed." She tossed down the dish towel she'd been holding and walked into the living room to the staircase. "Do you need me to carry you too?"
Bob smiled. "Well, if you wouldn't mind, I'd...." He trailed off when she swatted his shoulder. "Ow. Fine. Be that way." He rubbed his shoulder, feigning great injury, but Anne didn't care. She was already climbing the stairs, determined to get the bed cleaned off in record time. She was very motivated at the moment only because she had suddenly felt herself getting sleepy as well, though she wasn't about to admit that to Bob.
Their bedroom was a disaster. Anne hadn't realized how little method there had actually been to the moving madness. Boxes stacked along the walls. Boxes stacked in the middle of the room. Boxes stacked on the bed. It was almost impossible to squeeze into the room. They sure had packed it tightly.
Once inside the room, she surveyed it again. There were about fifteen boxes along the wall and around the door, and about another five on the bed. The rest of the room was pretty empty. The dressers were huddled together on one side, and her vanity was next to them, still disassembled. Otherwise, it wasn't that horrid; she was relieved to see that it wasn't as bad as it had looked from the hallway. The bathroom was completely empty and nothing was blocking it. And the three built-in floor-to-ceiling mirrors were completely unobstructed.
She paused, looking at herself in the mirror for a few minutes, before turning back to the bed to clear it off. Boxes of clothes. At least they were easy to move. She stacked them at the foot of the bed, just out of the way, and arranged the pillows at the head.
Anne could hear Bob staggering up the stairs. She darted into the bathroom to make sure that she got it before he did. The other one was downstairs and she didn't feel like making another trip. She was only in for a few minutes, but when she got out she found that Bob was already sound asleep and snoring. Anne smiled, kicked off her shoes, and crawled into bed next to him.
They slept peacefully for hours, until Bob was stirred awake. Something was irritating him. It seemed bright in the room, but he was sure that it wasn't morning yet. He was still exhausted. He closed his eyes tightly, and wondered if it really was morning and he was just overly tired. He glanced down at his watch, which he had neglected to take off, and saw that it was two o'clock in the morning. So why was it so bright in there?
Bob squinted as he blinked his eyes open and wasn't quite sure what he saw. The center mirror appeared to be glowing. Light was escaping from around its edges, and the rest of it was growing brighter by the second. He tried to focus on the peculiar light in front of him. It became a little more intense and then finally stabilized.
The room was fairly bright at this point. Bob shielded his eyes with his hand and continued to squint at the mirror, wondering what was going on. He shook Anne with his other hand and told her to wake up. She murmured and rolled over.
"Turn off the damn light. I'm trying to sleep." She swatted her hands in the air. "I mean it. I'm tired. Turn it off."
"Anne, I didn't turn on the light."
"Turn it off!"
"Anne, I didn't. The mirror is glowing. Look."
Anne grumbled and sat up, squinting. She looked towards the mirror and opened her eyes fully.
They both sat quietly looking at the mirror when the silence was broken by what sounded like an old automobile starting up. It choked and sputtered and whirred and sounded like it was coming from behind the mirror.
Naturally, their curiosity was overwhelming at this point. There was definitely something behind their mirror, but neither of them had any idea what it could be.
They didn't have to wonder for very long, though, as the center mirror slid to the left, behind the mirror next to it. Light poured into the room, and they could just barely make out what it was coming from. Behind their mirror, clicking and groaning, stood a gigantic robot.
The light was coming from what must have been its eyes: two giant spotlights attached to a flat, rectangular box which rested on top of a cone-shaped apparatus connected it to the rest of the body. The body itself was boxy, about six feet in total height, with a series of switches and dials on it. At the base was a larger hunk of metal with two sets of treads on either side.
It rolled forward out of the small room hidden behind their mirror. Once through, it extended itself out to what must have been its full height. The "head" was now on an extended pole coming out of the cone, and several antennae sprang up out of it. The tip of the longest one almost brushed against the ceiling.
Then it extended its arms, holding them above its head. They were a fearsome sight, each tipped with a huge claw-like device lined with sharpened teeth. The arms themselves were coil-like in appearance, bending and flexing at all joints, giving them incredible range of motion. The bright spotlights remained focused on Bob and Anne.
They sat there, mouths agape, staring at the monstrosity that had appeared. Anne's mother had told her to expect some things to be wrong with the house, since that always happens, but Anne had never expected something like this.
The robot stood about three feet out from the mirror, sputtering and shaking. It looked like its head was going to fall off from all the vibrations. It rattled and belched out a cloud of black smoke from an exhaust stack on its rear left shoulder.
Clicking its claws together, the treads squealed as it suddenly lunged forward into the bedroom, jerking its head back in the process, threatening to rip it off. It reached the bed and came to a complete stop just as suddenly. In one swift motion, it whipped one of its huge arms down and plunged it deep into Bob's right thigh.
He screamed. Anne screamed. They tried to pull the thing out of his leg, but it didn't move. The robot had thrust its arm all the way through and it was stuck into the top of the mattress. Then the creature did a most horrific thing. It started to open the claw.
Excruciatingly slowly, the claw tore through Bob's leg, pulling it apart from the inside. The muscle ripped up the center and created a large gaping wound.
Bob writhed in agony and clenched his fists. He couldn't gather his wits enough to scream, he was in such extreme pain. Fortunately, Anne did enough screaming for both of them. She wailed and pounded at the robotic arm and pleaded for it to stop. Blood spurted onto her hands.
In one lightning-fast motion, the robot's other claw shot down and grasped Anne's arm in its serrated teeth. Holding her arm in its hand for a moment, the robot pulled her up until her now very bloody forearm was even with its eyes. The thing cocked its head to the left, looked at her, then clamped the claw down, severing her arm three inches above the wrist. She fell back down to the bed on top of her husband.
He had completely lost his leg now, the robot having finished opening its hand, and he'd passed out, either from the pain or lack of blood. Anne tried frantically to wake him, but he just wouldn't budge. Trying desperately to save her husband, she draped herself over him, hoping the machine would leave them alone.
Unfortunately, it was not to be. It plunged its right arm deep into her back, the tip penetrating her chest and entering her husband's. And then the claw spun around, completely ripping apart both of their hearts and lungs. Anne gasped for breath as her body instinctively spasmed backwards. She tried to scream, but couldn't draw enough air to make any noise and simply slowly sank into the bed.
With its other claw, the machine held the two twitching corpses down and pulled out the arm it had just killed them with. Blood and organs clung to it, trailing vessels back into their bodies. Extending the arm out in front of itself, it spun it around again, shooting gore all over the room, but mostly cleaning itself off in the process.
Sickly satisfied with itself, it let out another belch of smoke, then rolled back into the hidden room from which it had come. The mirror slid back into place. It continued to sputter and clank for a few minutes before everything was silent again.
Two days later, Jill came to the house. She had slept in the day before, but was determined to help them unpack now. She knocked at the door. No answer. She rang the doorbell. No answer. Their car was in the driveway, so she assumed they were home, but she didn't know why they weren't answering. It was early afternoon and they certainly would have been awake by now.
Figuring they must have gone for a walk, she shrugged and walked back to her car, deciding to give them a call later and find out if they needed any help.
Jill didn't see Anne at work the next day. Or the day after. Nor did Anne or Bob return the messages she left on their voice mail. She knew something was wrong. Anne never missed a day of work and she must have been eager to tell everyone at the office how the move had gone and what their house was like. Finally, not able to take it anymore, Jill called the police.
The officer tried to persuade her that nothing was wrong when she phoned in. People go on vacation spontaneously. Or get sick. Or just up and quit their jobs. Besides, a person would need to be missing at least 72 hours before the police would investigate. Jill, growing rather frantic, screamed that they had been missing for almost a week now, and managed to convince them that the least they could do was to send an officer by the house.
A squad car pulled into Bob and Anne's driveway about three hours later. The policeman walked up to the front door and knocked. Then he rang the doorbell. And knocked again. No answer. He took a few steps back and surveyed the house. It looked like a nice enough place. Brick siding, good gutters. He knocked again.
About to leave, but wanting to try something else, he bent down and opened the mail slot to call into the house. As soon as he opened it, the unmistakable scent of decaying flesh filled his nostrils and he gagged and leapt back. Coughing, he drew his gun and surveyed the front of the house. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
He ran back to his car and radioed for backup, then did a quick sweep of the perimeter. Everything seemed calm and normal.
Two more squad cars arrived within minutes and the police broke down the front door. The stench of death was everywhere.
The cops had the entire block cordoned off by that night. Jill tearfully identified both bodies before collapsing from shock. She spent the night with her sister. Detectives and forensics scientists combed the house for hours, cataloging evidence, analyzing blood stains, taking photographs.
At around ten o'clock that night, a breathless officer ran outside to the two detectives that were just about to leave.
"Guys, you've got to get in here and see this. It's unbelievable!"
He ran back inside, with the two detectives close at his heels. They ran up into the master bedroom, the scene of the murders. Chalk outlines were on the bed, blood was everywhere. They surveyed the room. Everything seemed the same as when they'd left five minutes ago.
"Yeah, it's a grizzly scene. But what did you find? Everything looks like it's in order."
"Don't you guys see?" The rookie asked. "Look at the mirror over there. It's glowing."
| 10/24/2006 | The Seventh Story of the House |
| 10/21/2006 | The Sixth Story of the House |
| 10/13/2006 | The Fifth Story of the House |
| 10/04/2006 | The Fourth Story of the House |
| 10/03/2006 | The Third Story of the House |
| 10/02/2006 | The Second Story of the House |
| 10/01/2006 | The First Story of the House |
| 10/01/2004 | It's Your Turn |
| 10/02/2003 | The Experiment |
| 10/02/2003 | The Stain |
| 10/02/2003 | The Recorder |
| 10/02/2003 | The Secret Room |
| 10/02/2003 | Why you should always carry tools |
| 10/02/2003 | The Solicitor |
| 10/02/2003 | The Picnic |
| 10/02/2003 | Moving Day |
| 10/02/2003 | The Very Short Life of a Fat Man |
| 10/02/2003 | Life on a Farm |
| 10/02/2003 | The Mooresbury Men |
| 10/02/2003 | A Better Killer |
| 10/02/2003 | Scary Noises |
| 02/01/2003 | The Wind Blows In My Heart... |
| 01/15/2003 | I Am The Goddess |
| 01/15/2003 | Freak |
| 01/12/2003 | They Won't Be Coming Back |
| 01/12/2003 | Bugs |
