Elizabeth Dappa had grown tired of the radically unhealthy city life, so she hopped in her car and drove a day’s time to her old hometown in Utah. Her grandfather’s home was still in the family, so securing it as her temporary quarters was easy enough to do. Standing in front of the sprawling farmhouse, she looked to her left and then to her right. She could see the faint twinkle of the neighbor’s farmhouse, some many miles away, she was alone; not cramped into a little box that shared walls with strangers who’d rather give her a bullet or a knife wound, than their name. Many people may have looked at this situation and called it isolation and not so much alone, and even fewer would agree that this seemed wonderful.
Elizabeth was a practical young woman and warmed the cold house the moment she stepped a foot inside. Once she had warmed the house up, she went downstairs to get ready for bed, for her bedroom had always been underground. Her grandfather had built this home as a two-story home, but from the front, it seemed like a low, long-stretched, single-story home, but if seen from the back, it was a sprawling two-story home. Her bedroom was tucked in the back downstairs.
Elizabeth was happy to be back in her grandfather’s home, his memory seemed to still be alive within the home, but not in that scary Amityville Horror way. She got dressed for bed, a matching pink silk pajama set, with fuzzy pink slippers on her feet, to keep her tiny toes safe from touching a nasty potato bug, a fearful idea that made her want to flee from her home state for all time, and hide, but Elizabeth just always wore shoes or slippers, to avoid such things.
She felt a hunger in her belly and went upstairs to the kitchen. She made herself a hot dog and a glass of milk – it wasn’t the fanciest meal of time, but it chased the hunger away. She looked at the clock on the microwave and saw it was indeed getting late, so she figured a chapter of her new Regency Era Romance book and some sleep were needed. Deep into the night, she was awoken by a loud noise outside, and when she went upstairs, the property was so dark she couldn’t see anything from the front of the house nor the back. Then someone rang the doorbell and rang it again. She opened the door. No one was there.
She looked down at the welcome mat. What she saw lying there on the welcome mat, in a puddle of crimson, was pure evil in her eyes and her heart. She knew all living things died – the circle of life and all that, but what she saw wasn’t a natural death. The cat that lay in the crimson puddle, twisted in fear, was gutted. Its intestines were strewn around the porch as if they were festive party streamers for a party, smouldering in the brisk night air. Elizabeth staggered back – she had seen death more times they she’d ever wish to admit to. She spat out the savior’s name and asked no one in particular who had killed the cat, knowing full well (and hoping) that she wouldn’t receive an answer.
Elizabeth Dappa knew she needed to call the police, she closed the door and hurried into the kitchen, she picked up the handheld receiver with the curly cord that kept her connected to the wall; like in the simpler days – and all she could hear was the dead air of a phone with its line cut – her cellphone didn’t get any reception out this way, Elizabeth expected to die a violent death and experience every single moment of it. She rushed downstairs, but something deep within her told her to leave, that she wouldn’t live to see morning if she stayed; Elizabeth went into her room.
She knew that St. George wasn’t that far of a drive, less than an hour away. She packed her bag back up – and closed the door to her room, and proceeded back up the stairs, keeping her breath sucked in as she did; keeping an ear out for any strange noise, she made it outside, and she looked at her car; all four tires were flat, she baulked and her eyes bugged, what had happened to her car?
Fear, an odd sensation for her, was produced within her body and was only intensified as she ran back to the house as her mind cluttered with snapshots of her death – a grisly scene with lots of blood and guts and gore. On the dining room table, there was a note and in the chair, which had been pulled out; was a box.
What was puzzling to her about this scene was, this note and box hadn’t been there before – someone was in the house or at the very least had a way in and a way out.
The note was brittle and frail feeling in her hands, and all that was written on it was a smiley face; and in the box was a decapitated head staring up at her. The victims head – with his blind eyes, his ill-smelling flesh and shunned gore – had lips that were the color of old deli meat, and they were stretched into an everlasting scream, a scream that would never end.
Poor Elizabeth stumbled out from the dining room, and spun around to once more view the front door, and saw there a female standing there, she held a long sharp knife. Indeed, she saw the female intruder, but it was as if the female intruder hadn’t seen her – and quietly snuck downstairs giggling to herself. Another intruder, another female, came out of the side room.
A room dedicated to her late-grandmother, and she quickly tucked herself under the hall table which was covered with a white, lacy table cloth. The second intruder walked over to the table where Elizabeth was hiding, and she drummed her fingers upon the surface, Elizabeth had no idea wether or not she knew where she was hiding; “Why are you hiding Sarah?”
That name, that was the name of Elizabeth’s step-grandmother, what on Earth had she done now, a drug deal gone bad? That seemed up Sarah’s alley, and now Elizabeth may pay the price of her mistake with her own life, and Sarah, upon hearing the news would feel not one bit of remorse. Then I remembered, in my grandfather’s office downstairs, he had a CB radio!
She stole downstairs, as quietly as she could. Elizabeth found his CB radio, but the cord was cut. The intruders had rendered the radio useless, she turned, and saw his gun safe. She ripped open the desk drawer and Elizabeth Dappa dug through the contents looking for the key to the safe, she wasn’t a fan of guns, but she wasn’t afraid to use one.
Finally she came across the key and Elizabeth turned towards her grandfather’s gun safe. She tore open the metal door – and her eyes fell, it was empty save for some dust bunnies that had gathered into the corners.
Elizabeth didn’t know if she was going to survive. There was no phone, her car had all flats, and she didn’t have a weapon. Her house was crawling with masked killers. Elizabeth went back upstairs, ever so quietly, and eyed the front window; she could run to the gas station, if she made enough noise it would wake someone up.
Sure the station was five miles away – and if by a rare piece of chance, she made it – she would survive to see yet another day, which was all she wanted. She ripped open the front door, taking a quick look at the massive front yard which met with Bench Road.
She could do this – second thoughts and deeper elements of horror started to nest in the darkest recesses of her mind – she jumped over the slain cat. Elizabeth went running for the gas station, running and not looking back, until she started to hear wild laughter.
She glanced behind her, not breaking her stride as she continued to run, and saw three people chasing after her; she summoned the strength to pump her legs even faster. As she neared the main road; she saw a car approaching.
Elizabeth launched herself in front of the car, and all at once, the laughter stopped, as the driver opened the passenger door for her. She no longer cared if the driver needed her to give them a delectable view of stunning tits encased in her delicate black bra. The man seemed breathless at what he had seen just for those couple of seconds and she breathed, he would not need for her to give him any views, and Elizabeth recounted the events that had happened to her.
The three masked freaks chased after the car for a number of miles, but they eventually gave up, did they go back to the house? What did it honestly matter? Elizabeth would never go back.