Part 4

Here is part 4 to the project that I am working, I currently have another blog in the works but due to just the insane amount of assignments I have this week I have decided to put in my fourth installation of this story that I have been writing for my blog. (Adding a note here, if y’all want me to keep adding to this pls tell me, I already have a few more installations ready) 

“Where the hell is everyone?” Otto uttered.

“What, there should be someone here” John muttered to himself

“I don’t know what’s going on but I’m sure as hell not going in there,” Otto said.

 

While their confused demeanor was one of a great extent it was not one that lasted very long, for as soon as they sat back, awaiting further instruction while simultaneously attempting to forget what had happened just minutes earlier, they heard a scream let out from inside the house.

“Someone please, help me.”  

 

These screams of distraught were low and raspy, yet the voices somehow boomed throughout the confines of the ambulance. An eerily similar voice to that of the one over the transmitter, even the static was still apparent, not from the radio but from the voice coming from the house.

“We have to go in, cmon” John stated abruptly, already climbing out of the ambulance 

 

“John I’m not going in ther-”

“GOD DAMMIT OTTO” John finally screamed. His exclamation left silence throughout the front seat. It was one of the few times that Otto had heard John raise his voice.

Neither spoke as they climbed out of the seats, swiftly closing the doors. Otto had never experienced such silence, the rain had suddenly and abruptly subsided sometime throughout that altercation , thunder had developed into nothing but a distant memory.

The steps of the porch had rotted, moss enveloped the corners of each rotten floorboard.

The remains of what seemed to be a rocking chair rested upon the porch, almost unrecognizable. The outside of the home was similar to that in that aspect. It was as if they had stepped on a carcass, a shell of what this home might have used to be.’

 

“How are we supposed to even get into here?” Otto whispered as they approached the chipped wooden door. However the moment that John pressed his hand against the rusted copper doorknob the front door creaked ajar. 

 

“No wonder someone got in here” otto muttered to himself. John swiftly nudged his elbow into Otto’s ribs, effectively silencing him.

Peeling, peeling, everything in the home was peeling, the dated floral wallpaper stained a deep yellow with brownish undertones. A once stoute leather armchair sat in the middle of the living room. It was left crumbling, The synthetic brown leather peeling from the arms and back of the padded giant. It was padded like the very floors that it sat on, the floors enveloped with a moldy cream colored carpet that spanned from wall to wall. It was as if stenches could pile.

 

“GO-GODDAMN IT OTTO” 

Otto turned to John abruptly, startled, “What the hell man?”

John was too startled to speak. His thoughts began to speak to him again.

“It sounded like me, it sounded exactly like me. What I just said, what the hell.”

“It wasn’t me” John said shakily 

The voice was not just similar, it was verbatim, neither of them spoke for a moment. Until it began to call out to the men again. 

“I’m not going in there” it called out.

“The attic” John said, quickly traversing to the second floor.

“Hell no the attic,” Otto replied

“Whatever” John said, finally tired of Otto’s unwillingness to do his job John finally climbed the final set of stairs.

The attic was cramped, dozens of boxes, stacked to the top of the low ceilings. John searched with caution, someone in such a small confined space would not be hard to find. Yet there was no one there.