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 Posted: Thu Nov 30, 2006 3:07 pm
::Adelline's and Arabelle's Haunted House::
 "Come and play with us. . ."
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Posted: Thu Nov 30, 2006 3:35 pm
The Internal Workings:
Just outside the boundary of Dalton, Ohio, stands an abandoned shack, its rather cliche`d outlook giving way for the banner hung on its worn shutters, the writing enscrypted in spattered, predictable crimson text: "Adelline's and Arabelle's Haunted House." The various trees and other forest plants around it give the house a more suited aura; the feeling that one would be completely stranded were they to try passing through the swivelling doors.
The two girls, supposedly the owners of the establishment, sit cheerily on the creaking steps leading to the entrance, at times playing childish games like jacks or checkers. In all honesty, they did not look the types to run a haunted house, too cheery and level-headed to keep their required scary outlook.
But if one were to be lured into the sisters' mediocre-looking set-up, they would not expect what lurked inside the house, or what brutal humor the two innocent-looking girls held. For, in truth, the poor fool would find his or herself unable to leave . . .
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Posted: Thu Nov 30, 2006 3:44 pm
Rules: .You must be at least semi-literate to enter the house, or you might not even make it past the door.
.Respect the sister's, or they will surely see to your demise.
.Killing is allowed by anyone, of course.
.No risque things around the younger ones--Let's hope your minds are on surviving rather than pleasure.
.No destroying the house, the residents wouldn't take too kindly.
.The residents have jurisdiction.
.Rules subject to change at anytime.
.Any rules broken will result in anything but pleasure.
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Posted: Thu Nov 30, 2006 3:54 pm
The Residents:
Arabelle and Adelline: The owners, of course. They take the master bedroom upstairs; perhaps the only decent-looking place in the house. No one is allowed there.
No one just yet, but please come and visit! The sisters will be sure to make your employment an excellent decision.
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Posted: Thu Nov 30, 2006 4:08 pm
Description: Most people happen upon the haunted house by mere accident: taking a wrong turn, getting into an accident. Few actually know of the strange place or dare to even enter.. but being the only establishment for miles and miles, one could only hope for a phone or a meal, but would find nothing of the sort.
After coming through the dense woods, the run down shack would look completely abandoned, except for the sign and children outside indicating otherwise. If you happen to go forth, since there is no other way, and something seems to pull you inside, you would find many strange things going on..
Within the enterting room lies a stair case to the left, and many rooms elsewhere. A kitchen, a dining room, all of it seeming ordinary. At closer inspection, one might notice the creaks coming from no one, the shiver from a draft unseen, or a moan in the dark corner. Blood stains the floor and walls in some spots, as well as other substances.
Up the stairs there are several rooms which can be rented. Only one nice-looking room belongs to the owners, but it is obviously off limits. The other rooms might be unoccupied, but some unlucky customer might find otherwise.
Those who venture inside will be extremely lucky to make it out, but if not, will be doomed to roam about the house forever sealed there, clinging to any new life that enters. They would plea for help if possible, yet only moans and screams exit their mouths these days..
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Posted: Thu Nov 30, 2006 4:26 pm
It was early in the night, and twilight was just setting in. The sun was sinking behind the horizon, casting a glow on the lower atmosphere. In practically the middle of nowhere sat a shack, creaking under the darkening sky, with only two visible occupants.
One of these occupants was already skipping outside, rushing into the dead grass that lay about. The girl was only over about five feet tall, looking to be at most fifteen years old. Her curls of raven black hair bounced behind her as she came to stop, gazing at the woods with crimson orbs.
"Sissyyy," she called in a sing-song voice, glancing over her shoulder at the house. She wore nice clothes for living in such a run-down place, her attire consisting of a dark blue jumper, knee high socks, and black shoes. The outfit was clean except for a red splatter near the bottom of the ruffles.
"Let's play Ring Around the Rosie!" She proposed, nodding a few times for emphasis before turning back around. Her entire body now face the shack, waiting for the other girl's arrival so they could start their innocent fun.
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Posted: Thu Nov 30, 2006 4:48 pm
Soon after Adelline's proposal of their favorite game, Arabelle skipped out of the mansion. Her pastel pink dress fluttered about her ankles as she pranced toward her sister, heels surprisingly making no sound as she leapt down the small stairs, barely placing a foot on the third step before landing the rest of the way.
Ebony locks spilled over her shoulders, though they only reached a few inches after that, contrasting greatly to her creamily pale skin. Her rather bright clothes stood out somewhat, though once the sun would finally give way under pitch darkness, all her apparel would need would be a little light from perhaps headlamps, and her pink garmets would gleam.
Dainty fingers dangled at her sides, then were brought up to her chest, intertwining while irises the same color as Adelline's sparkled cheerfully, her sheer youthful exuberance betraying her age of fourteen.
"Can we really?" Arabelle chirped, a small hop punctuating her inquiry. "Yay!" Peachy lips curved into a grin, bearing pearly white teeth. A normal person would find it utterly adorable for two teenaged women to be acting this way, but had they find out the real reason to Arabelle's excitement, they would certainly consider it morbid.
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Posted: Thu Nov 30, 2006 5:08 pm
At her sister's excitement, Adelline couldn't help the smile that twitched at the corners of her rosy lips. "Of course," she said slowly, sauntering toward the younger sibling. Outstretching her arms, she held out her pale hands for her sister to grab.
A child's game where they sang about the black plague. Some didn't know the true meaning, but they found it humorous and morbid; just like everything they did. Wondering if anyone would actually visit them soon, they were running low on amusement, Adelline's gaze lowered to the ground.
Before she could get questioned though, she put another smile on her face, the expression riddling across every pale and outstanding feature. These girls were beautiful, even with the special tastes they had for several things. She now just waited for her sister to join so they could let the game commence.
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Posted: Thu Nov 30, 2006 10:24 pm
A lone figure steps out of the wood and pauses at the scene laid out before him.
He's a tall man, about 28 years old. His faded jeans barely touch the tops of his worn tennishoes, leaving his dingy white socks peeping out beneath the denim. On his wide shoulders he wears a tattered jean jacket draped over his light blue "Superman" t-shirt. His auburn hair is long-ish, greasy and tostled, and it hangs over his face, shading his confused, gray-blue eyes.
He staggers a bit, and a slight realization sparks behind those clouded eyes.
"W-where am I?" he stammers, staring at the pair of girls frolicking about in front of the shack.
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Posted: Fri Dec 01, 2006 5:29 am
Arabelle paused, the lyrics of her favorite game dying on her lips as she glanced at the man. Immediately, crimson hues sparkled with an even brighter joy than before, a giggle bubbling up from her throat.
"You're here, you silly man!" she chided in a playful tone, gesturing to a nearby road sign labeled, "Dalton: 15 miles." She scurried over toward the still nameless man, another laugh resonating through the air unchecked.
"Come! Come! You must be tired, and I'm afraid we're the only type of residence left for miles." Her smile widened at her statement, but only a miniscule amount, while her eyes gleamed with some undefiable emotion. Gently taking the man's hand, Arabelle tugged him over to where Adelline stood, looking up and meeting her sister's eyes, her grin widening even more if that was possible. It was as if some telepathic communication went between them, by the looks they shared.
"Oh! I am terribly sorry," Arabelle said, turning toward the man again and letting go of his hand, instead grasping the edges of her dress in a curtsy. "I am Arabelle, and this is my sister Adelline." Her eyes flickered toward the banner hanging from the shack, then refocused on the man. Without even a moment's pause, she practically sang, "Welcome to our haunted house!"
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Posted: Fri Dec 01, 2006 11:09 am
The other one standing there, Adelline as she was called, lingered her crimson irises on the new found man. She continued to stand with her fingers laced in front of her while the two approached, and finally spoke after her sister had welcomed him to their haunted house.
"Yes, welcome," she said, her eyelids now half way closed; a smirk pulling at the edges of her rosy lips. "Do stay for the night. We have plenty of rooms," she too gave a slow curtsy, keeping her eyes raised to gaze at him the entire time.
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Posted: Fri Dec 01, 2006 9:03 pm
Franklin Beaurogard, for that is what the man's name was, hesitantly let the young girl drag him over to her companion. His head still swam with confusion as he glanced back and forth between the two girls hardly believing what he was seeing.
The shack was strangely captivating, but even more captivating were the mysterious eyes of the girls before him. He found himself lost in their gazes, a mixture of horror and delight welling within him at each passing glance. So captivating were they that he instinctively gazed at his shoes. But their piercing eyes constantly demanded attention...attention he was compelled to give.
As the bubbly, pink-dressed girl spoke, he saw her eyes shift and change with every sentance. Something dark lay beheath, but he was oddly warmed by it. Her sister's gaze left him cold. Something dark was beneath her gaze as well, but it was calculating... intentional... and utterly horrifying to Frank, though his clouded mind could not perceive what it was.
The strange introduction ended abruptly, with very little penetrating his understanding. He felt small, overwhelmed and powerless. He knew he should speak, say something, anything, but his voice eluded him. What came from his throat was a dull squak, almost inaudible.
"Frank. I'm Frank Beaurogard... did you say Haunted?" His dull, focus-less gaze drifted upward to the shack that lay beyond and he shuddered.
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Posted: Fri May 11, 2007 8:33 pm
*looks around the murky woods*
"Uh..where am i?...."Rustling behind the bushes*think worst-case scenario ending with me in a duffel bag....*
Takes off running until i tripped on the front porch,slandering a beautiful step with my almost ebony blood..a wallet falls with the name christa hues on it...was this my name
"i hate metaphors"
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Posted: Sun May 13, 2007 6:29 pm
"Dariusz, are you going out again?"
"Yes, Papa."
"Where are you going this time? Why are you always with the backpack on your shoulders, going out into the woods? What's out there? Is there a girl out there, Boychik*?"
"No, Papa."
"So what is it, then? Can't stand to see an alter cocker's** face staring at you from across the table any more?"
"No, Papa, no, that's not it. No."
"So what is it? Is it-"
"PAPA. I just need the quiet. I just need to walk and to think."
The old man nodded, a giant's nod.
"Alright. Alright. Just be back for shabbos***."
That's what he had said. As if there could be a shabbos without Mama.
He had seen her jump. The roof hadn't been so high, but it was high enough, and she had landed at a bad angle. "Watch me, Dariusz! I'm going to fly!" And then his mother, dressed all in white like a bride, graceful as the swan her long neck reminded him of, had leapt to her death.
And now he was out here in the woods with his little backpack, miles and miles from home. America was good, sure. Uncle Chai's summer house was very nice. Very fancy. Varnished wood floors, hot water - he was a rich man, a generous man. It even had a garbage disposal; when Uncle Chai sat shiva with them on the first day, he had showed them. But he hadn't joined them in the house to sit with them after that. So few faces had come - they say it's the worst time, the period of mourning when all your friends and relatives come to see you and you have to smile and talk when you want to cry. But nobody had come - there was nobody to put on a smile for. Just when they should be with their friends back home, Papa had to come out here to see his only brother, their only family, and his only family hadn't come.
The shiva period was long over, and Dariusz hadn't cried or smiled for anybody.
But when he was in the woods, he generally didn't worry about it. In the woods, there wasn't anything to worry about. There were trees and trees and trees and trees and trees. It was nice.
Until there weren't trees any longer.
Until there was a house.
Darren had seen houses before, abandoned ones. Back in Poland, there were a lot of abandonned houses from where the Nazis had taken families away during the war, and nobody had moved in, and the house sat and rotted for its dead family. But he hadn't expected to see such a house in America. In America, everything was shiny and new; Uncle Chai had showed them.
Still, there was something about the house that the twelve-year-old liked. Maybe he just missed home.
Wandering around the perimeter of the house, the tiny boy with the cold green eyes stared up at its walls, trying to determine if it was structurally safe to enter.
*Boychik: Affectionate yiddish term for a boy or young man.
**Alter cocker: Yiddish for 'old fart,' litterally 'old shitter.'
***Shabos: Yiddish word for Saturday, the sabbath.
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