Oct. 31, 2016 10:27 PM

Stanley

Abandoned House

Sft390 kp-29mx Htlj

"Double Dare"

Found among a pile of scattered bones

S-VHS

"Why are you filming? You're such a dweeb Stanley" Phil whined with a scowl, shooting his fellow 8th grade classmate and usual play toy, Stanley, a dirty look. Timmy, Phil's buddy who also took part in making Stanley, and everyone else who's 'different', lives impossible, let out his signature class clown laugh while stuffing his round face with a bag of potato chips as they made their way down a dirt road.

"I-It's for a class project…" Stanley murmured, his head bowed as his tried to stay as low and quiet and invisible as possible to avoid Phil's cruelty. He had just finished trick-r-treating alone, as per usual, when he ran into the duo, who were busy spending their time TPing houses and stealing candy from fourth graders for Halloween. Stanley, on the other hand, was avoiding going home and having to listen to his alcoholic stepfather or trying to help his pill-popping mother to bed.

"Give it here" Phil demanded, swiping the camera from Stanley's grasp and shoving his face in the lense as he joked around and made funny faces that only served to somehow make him even more ugly. Timmy just laughed, like he does every time Phil does anything.

"Please don't break it. It was a gift and I can't return it" Stanley pleaded, trying, and failing, to get it back as Phil just shoved him aside. "From who? Can't be your junkie of a mother. Did your dad buy you this? Not the alco but the one who ran away as soon as you were born?" Phil asked, with a certain venom in his voice. "My dad...my real dad…left it for me as a gift. It's the only thing I have so please don't break it" Stanley said, stopping himself from crying in front of his bullies.

"Whatever loser, here ya go" Phil said, nonchalantly tossing the camera over his shoulder and in Stanley's direction, with him narrowly catching it. They continued walking down the dirt road as crows circled overhead, squawking for no particular reason. There was a full moon in the sky and a sharp coldness in the air. Phil knew where they were going, even if the other two didn't.

"Man, where the f are we going? I have to be home before midnight ya know. My rents are going to be sooooo pissed with me if I'm late" Timmy whined, tossing the empty bag of potato chips in a ditch. "Shut it Cinders, you'll be home before midnight. We have to make a little detour first". Timmy pushed his way through a thorn bush as Phil used his phone to light the way. "A little detour? We've been walking for like forever. Can't we just go back, there's nothing in this swamp 'cept gators" Timmy continued to whine, making fatigued faces, and noticeably trailing behind both Stanley and Phil. Phil shushed him, holding a finger up to his own mouth as he crouched behind a tree and told them to lay low. "I hear something", he said as he held a hand to his ear as if to hear more acutely.

"Probably a gator. Dude let's just go there ain't nothin' out here" Timmy moaned but kept his mouth shut when Phil shot him a look. "I swear to God I heard somethin'. Phil started moving again, pushing his past a few thorn bushes and back onto another dirt path. He stood upright and shined his light around but failed to spot anything other than a few mosquito's flying around in the dark.

"Damn. I'm sure I heard somethin'. I swear I heard somethin'." Phil stomped his foot before staring at the others as if it was their fault. "Can we just go back now. C'mon man I don't like this" Timmy held his arms up to his chest, trying to warm himself up.

"You're such a goddamn pussy Timmy. Grow a pair for will ya. We aren't turning back now but if you want you can find your own way back. Good luck not getting eaten by a gator" Phil said, instantly knowing Timmy would be too afraid to turn back.

"Alright…let's go. But can you at least just tell us we're we are going". As they pushed through the shrubbery Phil stopped; "We are going right…here" he said, emphasising the last word, holding his arms up to the mammoth property that loomed over them.

"Nah, no way. Jesus man I am not going in that hellhole. Haven't you heard the stories? That place is fucking haunted" Timmy stated, stepping further away from the large plantation. Stanley lowered his camera, both in awe and fear of the gigantic manor that stood ahead of them. The place almost seemed like it was alive, like it was staring back at them. An instant shiver ran down his body and he couldn't help but look away. He could always sense these things and he knew, for sure, that something was wrong.

"Bawk Bawk Bawk! You lil' pussy. Stanley here is more of a man than you, isn't that right Stanley?" Phil draped an arm over Stanley's shoulder, who had gone noticeably whiter than his already pale complexion. He ruffled Stanley's curly auburn hair to get his attention. Stanley jumped back in fright, staring at the taller boy. "Erm…yeah. I mean…" he trailed off.

"See! Now are you going to stand there all night like a bitch or are you going to come with us. Tick tock". Timmy took one more look at the house before shutting his eyes hard, knowing he was about to make a massive mistake, as he agreed to go with them. "Good. Let's go" Phil attempted to open the gate in front of the manor but found it chained shut.

"Hey dude maybe it's like a sign. That, y'know, we should just get the hell outta here" Timmy whispered. Phil just sighed and turned back to Timmy, grabbing his by his collar. "Listen to me alright? We go when I say we go. Now have I said that we are going?" Phil kept his hold on Timmy's collar, clearly frightening the pudgier and blonde haired boy. "Um…no" he gulped. "Exactly. No. Now shut the fuck up unless you want the same treatment that Johnson kid got" Phil barked in Timmy's face before dropping the boy back to the ground, leaving him physically shaken.

Stanley immediately regretted everything he had done that night. He regretted going trick-r-treating, he regretted taking the short route home, he regretted telling his mom he wished she was dead and, most of all, he regretted ever knowing Phil Monroe. He knew nothing good could come out this night, but he never could have predicted what was in store for them.

"Gate's locked and someone had the bright idea of putting barbed wire on the top so we'll have to find another way in. C'mon, this way" Phil motioned towards a winding pathway leading down towards the side of the manor. Stanley and the others continued walking in the darkness, every noise making him even more aware of his situation from the noises of the crows, owls and crickets to the cold wind blowing on the back of his necks and the occasional snapping of branches in the distance causing him to question whether they were really alone out here.

Eventually they came to a large drop which would undoubtedly be difficult to climb back up from. "I'm not sure about this. I saw a weird doll back there and I don't think we're alone" Stanley said, just loud enough for them to hear him. "Aw look at the little baby. I thought you were a man Stanley. But you're just as much of a pussy as your old man was, aren't ya? You just going to run away like he did or are you going to come with us" Phil closed in on Stanley, trying to intimidate the younger boy.

After several moments that felt like hours Stanley finally bit his lower lip and nodded his head, eyes closed, and a creeping feeling of dread within him. Phil patted his shoulder hard, "Attaboy!", as he was the first to drop down over the edge. Timmy looked at Stanley with empathy and worry, a look Stanley had never seen before and a look that reminded him that Timmy wasn't really a monster. He was just stupid. Timmy broke from their look and followed Phil with a heavy sigh. Stanley was tempted to just turn back, to leave the pair to whatever awaited them. But he couldn't. Phil's words had affected Stanley, as they usually did, and he wasn't going to be labelled a coward like the man who gave his sperm to help the creation process. So, he dropped down after them.

"Wow, would you look at that" Phil said to Timmy as they stood in front of a smaller and decrepit old house. Stanley caught up to the pair as they made it to the front door. He couldn't help but stare at the swing chair, which seemed to be swinging more than it should. "I didn't even know this place existed" Timmy said in disbelief as Phil slowly pushed open the ajar door and entered. "God it stinks in here!" Timmy retched as he quickly reached a hand up to his face. "Something must be dead in here. That smell ain't right" Phil said calmly as they continued down a tight hallway, looking at the dust covered frames and hanging cobwebs.

Stanley turned his head just in time to see the door close slowly as they made their way out of the hallway and into the kitchen. "Hey…you guys I-I think someone is here…I mean I think someone just-" Phil cut him off with a loud chuckle as he opened the microwave to find a rotten crow inside. "Anyone want roasted crow? Heard it tastes like chicken" he laughed as he quickly shut the microwave door and turned his attention to the kitchen table, which was littered with disgusting food and what appeared to be a black moldy substance. "Film this Stanley, this looks so rad" Timmy said as he pushed the black mold between his fingers.

"What a dump. How could anyone live in a shithole like this" Phil said kicking a chair onto the ground and heading for the hallway. "So, what's the deal with this place anyway? Did they just pack up and leave or, like, die or somethin'. What the fuck?" Timmy admired an old painting of a person wearing a sack over their head. "Oh, you don't know? Well, the story goes that the son, John or Jack or whatever, was this complete nutjob freak who killed all his family and hid them in the bayou. He ran away or some shit and no one has ever seen him since. Some say he's still out there…in the swamp. Waiting for anyone to come on by".

"And then what…" Timmy asked, his eyes wide and very awake. "And then...he RIPS YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF" Phil screamed as he jumped at Timmy, causing the boy to fall backwards and into a small enclosed area just under the stairs.

"Jesus, shit! You almost scared me to death man. Not funny!" Timmy shouted as he got to his feet with the help of Stanley. Phil was almost rolling on the ground with laughter, his laughing echoing off the damp walls and shooting back at them. "Oh my God! You should have seen your face! Fucking priceless" Phil remained in tears as he tried to catch his breath from laughing so hard.

"Asshole" Timmy muttered under his breath but was loud enough for Stanley to hear and smirk about. "And what are you smirking about, huh? If my mom was as big a whore as yours I wouldn't be smirking about anything" Phil mocked, looking over at Timmy who instead looked away in disgust. Phil remained staring at Timmy for a moment before turning his attention to Stanley, a cruel idea popping into his head.

"Hey, Stanley. I'm sorry man. Look I didn't mean it, ok? Can we start over?" Phil said in a still slightly mocking tone but Stanley didn't want a confrontation. He just wanted to go home. "Ok" he said, knowing full well that Phil wasn't capable of being empathetic.

"I didn't tell you'se the full story y'know. About the family that lived here. Remember those college girls that went missing last fall? I heard that they found one of them…" Phil whispered. "No way! They never found any of them. Apparently, gators got them" Timmy said. "Naw, they found one. Cept she wasn't alive. She had been trapped, starved, locked away for weeks. And they found her in there…" Phil pointed to a small door under the stairs, slightly ajar with no clear light on the other side.

"Bullshit! C'mon wouldn't that have been in the news. Why would she be-" Timmy tried to argue but stopped immediately after a quick nudge by Phil, which went unnoticed by Stanley. "Oh…Ok. Well, erm, maybe I did here something" Timmy shrugged his shoulders. "Really?" Stanley enquired, feeling as if Timmy would be a bit more truthful than Phil. "Yeah…I mean I guess" Timmy couldn't make eye contact with Stanley. He felt awful. "Hey Stanley. I dare you to go under there. Just for two minutes" Phil said. "No. No way. I-I can't…I don't like the dark. I mean I just can't…" Stanley stepped away from the door.

"You don't like the dark? What are you, five? It's just two minutes, c'mon. You can prove you're a real man unlike your shithead of a dad. Look we'll even leave the door open. We'll be right here, swear" Phil held his hand up to his heart and Stanley couldn't help but feel the dark-haired boy was lying to him. It wouldn't be the first time Phil had played a cruel prank on another kid. He once put a firecracker in another boy's shoe but his dad, a local politician, got him out of trouble.

Phil looked at Timmy, waiting for him to back him up. Eventually he did: "I-I double dare you to go into that room…just for two minutes! C'mon Stanley, then we can leave" there was a sense of pleading in Timmy's words and Stanley wanted to get out of there more than anyone so, reluctantly and with a sigh, he walked towards the little room, each step making his heart beat faster than the last. He finally made it to the entrance of the room as Phil called out his name once again. "Hey, why don't you give us the camera. No point in bringing it in with you, is there. We'll look after it" Phil grinned, holding his hand out for Stanley to place the camera into. Stanley felt like he was making the worst decision of his life but, for some reason, he agreed to let Phil have his camera for the next two minutes and placed it in his hand before entering the enclosed room.

Phil tried to hold his laughter as he pointed the camera towards the room and motioned towards Timmy, whispering something in his ear. Timmy stepped back in shock, giving Phil the most disgusted and ashamed face imaginable. "Just do it" Phil snapped before Timmy moved towards the door.

Stanley was reminded of his childhood. When he was younger, and smaller, his stepdad would sometimes lock him inside a closet after yet another alcohol fuelled rage. He would spend hours inside that closet, until his mother awoke from her stupor and saved him. One time she was unconscious for too long. He urinated on himself and was beaten with a belt when his stepdad finally opened the closet door. He had forgotten that memory, or hid it away deep inside, until he entered the enclosed room.

Just then the door closed shut as Timmy put all his weight against it, trapping Stanley inside. Phil's hyena like laughter started up again as he filmed Timmy pushing himself up against the door and Stanley's cries for help. "Calm down Stanley! We've decided to up the time until ten minutes!" Phil threw his head back with laughter as Timmy tried to hold the door shut, surprised at Stanley's strength, and quickly wishing he had never became friends with Phil.

As Stanley tried clawing at the door and cried for mercy, Phil's attention was drawn to something he could see just out of the corner of his eye. He slowly drew his attention to the mirror across the hall, a single crack running down the middle. That's when he saw it. A woman in the reflection. Moving down the hall towards them. Or at least she resembled a woman. That's when he saw her face, and her eyes.

"What the…" he said in disbelief as she jumped into his view, her black eyes and sickly complexion grinning at him in a way that made him physically stop, dropping the camera onto the ground, shattering the lense as she grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him across the hall, his head making brutal contact with the mirror and shattering it, a large shard coming down upon the back of his neck, piercing his skin and forcing him to jump back in shock. The woman ripped the large shard of glass from his neck as he came face to face with her horrifying grin once again as her long hair draped over her face. "Die!" she screamed as he felt the shard pierce his chest multiple times, her frenzied attack not even giving him a chance to properly defend himself. He felt his legs go numb, his body shake from the inside out, as his eyes were covered with his own blood and he desperately failed to use the side of the stairs for support and quickly slumped to the ground, still not understanding what had just happened.

Timmy, who remained in shock throughout Phil's attack, completely broke from his trance as he heard Phil hit the ground like a tonne of bricks. He acted quickly, opening the door and freeing a panicked Stanley in the process. "What's going on!?" Stanley tried asking but Timmy grabbed his arm and pulled him in the opposite direction of the knife wielding woman. "No time!" he shouted over his shoulder as they ran through another doorway and into another hallway. "Can't be real. Can't be real" Timmy repeated to himself as they looked for a way out of the property but only found barricaded window and blood trails with missing people posters and newspaper clippings splashed across the walls. "We have to find a way out of here" Stanley shook Timmy into reality and he nodded his head as they went back into the hallway to search another room. They were forced to race down the hallway after the woman appeared before them, now wielding a chainsaw which she revved in their faces.

"The windows are all shut! All shut!" Timmy screamed as he paced around in a circle, his eyes wide and his face a deathly colour. "We have to go down here" Stanley pulled Timmy towards a gate which seemed to lead down into a dark basement. "No, no. Bad idea. We can't!" Timmy tried to pull away but Stanley forced him down the steps as the crazed woman made her way down the hallway towards them, holding the chainsaw above her head and laughing maniacally. He shut the gate behind him and followed Timmy down the wooden stairs.

They entered another room and Timmy ran straight into a single hanging body bag, invisible in the dark, and fell to the ground as he hit his head off the hard concrete causing a small bleed. "Get up! C'mon get up!" Stanley cried as he pulled Timmy up from the ground, oblivious to the footsteps behind him. "Hello there! Were do you think you are going, son?" a tall and intimidating figure emerged from the darkness with a tyre iron in hand. "Help us! Please we need help!" Timmy begged as he approached the older man. "Help? I'll help you to the fridge boy because that's exactly where you are going piggy!" the man let out a deep and loud chuckle as he brought the tyre iron down upon Timmy's head, immediately causing Timmy's legs to go beneath him and the boy to crash to the ground. As Timmy tried to regain his bearings the older man stared right into Stanley's eyes; "Watch this, boy!" he shouted as he raised the tyre iron and brought it down upon Timmy's face, splattering blood all over the room and onto Stanley who remained in shock as he stared at one of his formers bullies mutilated face, an eye now hanging out of his head and coughing up both teeth and blood as the old man continued to beat his head in with the tyre iron until it was nothing but a bloody pulp sprayed across the cement floor.

The man, smiling wildly, turned his attention to Stanley and began his way towards him, patting the tyre iron on his hand as his shadow loomed over Stanley. Something inside Stanley shook him from his terror and ran for the exit, everything inside of him screaming, his head full of every mistake he had made that night, every choice that had lead him to that moment. "You ain't getting away!" the voice beamed as Stanley made it to the stairs. Then he saw Timmy. Saw his face as the tyre iron destroyed it. His hand outstretched, pleading for help that would not come. Then he saw the steps. The steps that never seemed to end. He ran up those steps faster than he ever thought he could as the laughter from the madman rang through his ears. He couldn't look back. An unimaginable fate was behind him. And it was coming for him.

Stanley burst through the gate, not even thinking about the insane chainsaw psychopath from before. He just had to escape. Had to get out of that house. He started taking larger steps as he turned the corner and burst through into the next hallway, the laughter now more faint but still there. Still close. He made it back to the stairs and saw the massive pool of blood that was once part of the boy who he despised. As he turned the corner into the kitchen that boy fell onto him, covered from head to toe in blood, his face barely recognisable. "H-help…me…p-pleeeease…help…" he vomited blood as he fell to his knees and Stanley tried to pull him up to his feet. He hated Phil, but he knew he couldn't just let him die.

Stanley through Phil's arm over his shoulder and tried to support the boy as they limped out of the kitchen and into the long and narrow hallway leading to the exit. Stanley was very aware that the manic laughter from the madman in the basement had just became far too loud. Yet, he still couldn't look over his shoulder. The two limped towards the exit, so close and yet so far away too. It was like a shining beacon. If they could just make it maybe they could escape into the dense and expansive swamp. Phil was coughing up more blood. Stanley was sure Phil wouldn't make it but he had no choice. He wasn't a coward, he wasn't going to leave him behind. He wasn't going to abandon him like his father had done to him.

As they made for the door a figure emerged from the right, hidden behind the door leading to the backdoor. The hooded figure, his wide grin the only noticeable feature, raised a shotgun into the air with one arm, the boys immediately stopping as he went from pointing it at Stanley to pointing it at Phil, almost as if he was doing "Eeny, meeny, miny, moe". Stanley quickly realised that it was exactly what he was doing as the hooded figure landed on moe, and Phil. Within seconds Phil was blown away, a massive gaping hole now in the middle of his chest as Stanley watched the light fade from his eyes, and finally saw the humanity in him that he never expressed in life. If only for a second before he crumpled to the ground, dead.

Stanley brought his eyes back towards the hooded figure, who was now smiling even wider as he looked at something beyond Stanley, over his shoulder. Dread filled him, and sorrow. He wasn't getting out of that house. He wasn't getting going to get all the things he said he would in life. He was never going to escape from that town, from his abusive stepfather and his constantly depressed mother. He was going to die right there, alone and scared. He didn't have a choice. He looked over his shoulder and saw the man, the older maniac from the basement.

"Welcome to the family, son!"

Stanley awoke at an unknown time, his head pounding and his mouth filled with blood. A single tooth on the floor. It took him a moment to realise he was in complete darkness, and very much alone. That's when he heard hammering and discovered he was back inside the room under the stairs. "No no no no no no" he cried, tears running down his face as he banged and hit and threw his body weight against the door, hearing the familiar chuckling coming from just outside. He screamed as another nail was hammered into the door, hammered into his coffin. He cried, begged, screamed, and shouted but to no avail. Eventually everything went quiet. He was now completely alone, save for his camera which was inside the room with him. He was stuck inside this enclosed space and wanted nothing more than his mom to come and save him. He cried and cradled himself in a fetal position. He switched between this and clawing at the door, his nails digging into the wood but having no real effect.

Hours passed, then days, and then he wasn't so sure anymore. Stanley could feel his body weakening. His nails were now all but gone, embedded inside the door. His fingers were bleeding, his body was on fire. Everything inside him was screaming and he was starving. He could feel his body giving up and the room stank of faeces and urine and death. His eyes continued to dim and he could feel his left eye going completely. After a couple more days it did. By then his mouth was barren and empty, the blood had dried and he could both taste and smell it. It was the only thing he could smell. He has tried drinking his own blood because he was so thirsty, but it failed to work and left him feeling more drained. He had tried drinking his own urine and was left with the same feeling. Eventually he was forced to eat his own faeces, but vomited the waste all over the ground and walls. He used that as a pillow to try and sleep on. Memories and nightmares kept him awake. Pain from his past seemed to overshadow the pain from his present. He would stare into the camera and leaves messages, unsure of whether it was even recording. He thought about his mother, whether she's notice him gone. Whether anyone would notice he wasn't there. At least Phil and Timmy's family would know, they'd care, but Stanley had no one. He continued to remind himself of this fact. Using his faeces, he wrote a simple message on the wall. 'I don't hate you', it read.

Eventually, by now unable to move and praying for death to come, Stanley slipped into death after seven days, staring into the camera, now an emaciated and withered figure.