"What?! Are you scared?"
Wendy Corduroy scoffed at her boyfriend's suggestion, "As if!" However, her feet were seemingly welded to the spot, preventing her from crossing the threshold before her. Despite her best intentions to hide it, her freckled face displayed a hint of hesitation.
Robbie V. continued to push on, "Then, what's the problem?"
The redhead rolled her eyes and rubbed her flannel-covered shoulder. A cool breeze flowing through the Oregon night sent shivers up Wendy's spine. At least that's what she hoped. "Maybe this isn't the best idea," she confessed. "Especially after everything that happened at the convenience store…"
"But this is totally different!" the goth chastised. "Besides, we're not the ones that caused that mess there; he was! And…" Robbie's face lightened up as he suddenly came to a realization, "That's it, isn't it?"
"What's "it?""
He flashed a small, cocky grin, "That kid, Dipper. You're afraid because he's not here with you!"
"Okay, now you're talking crazy, Robbie!" Wendy argued back.
Robbie challenged her further, "It's true, right? Tough-girl Wendy needs the little shrimp at her side in order to keep her safe from the big, bad monsters out there!"
Wendy pointed in her beau's face, "Knock it off!"
Instead, he put his hands together, puckered his lips, and battered his eyes in a mockingly girly fashion. "Oh, Dipper!" he cried out in a high-pitched, falsetto tone. "I need you! There's a tiny spider that needs to be squashed over there in the corner! It's staring at me with its eyes! Oh, my hero! What would I do without you?"
The goth chuckled to himself, only to find that his sweetheart glared at him silently with furious emerald eyes. He figured that if that didn't get a rise out of her, nothing would.
He stared to walk pass Wendy, "You know, let's forget about –"
Robbie was cut off as Wendy shot an arm straight down against the wall, blocking his exit. Still retaining her angry stare, she simply muttered, "Let's go…" Wendy brushed against Robbie and opened the door to their destination. As he went to follow at her heels, the ginger turned around and met him face-to-face.
"And for your information: spiders are not a joking matter!"
As Wendy stormed inside, Robbie lowered his hood and marveled at his rejuvenated mate, "Heh…that's my girl…"
As the door gently shut behind them, both teenagers found themselves stunned by the sights before them. Dimly lit lights were hung up high on among the various structures placed inches below the decorative ceiling. Another worn-out door at their right appeared to lead to a sort of closet. Straight ahead, a sturdy staircase let to the second floor. Wendy compared it to the rickety one back at the Mystery Shack that led up to the twins' bedroom.
"Amazing…" she marveled at the inner structures. "It's hard to believe that this place was abandoned!"
"If you think that's something," Robbie pulled on her plaid sleeve, "Check this out!"
The duo walked side-by-side into a large parlor. One couldn't tell from the outside that it would be so spacious. Fancy, decorated carpets covered every aspect of the floor. A series of loveseats circled the room, leaving a recliner and a lounge couch tossed within the mix. Thick, blood red drapes blocked the window, allowing only a sliver of moonlight into the room. A fireplace was conveniently placed in the center of the wall. Oddly enough, not one ounce of soot could be found nearby.
"Hey!" Wendy pointed above the fireplace. "Look at that!"
A giant portrait was hung above the hearth. A grim-looking man in a long, white overcoat stood with his arms crossed alongside his chest against a blackened background. He appeared to be a thinly and pale; his dark eyes stared into its viewers' souls.
"Huh," Robbie scratched the top of his head, "That's probably the old geezer that left this place behind…"
Wendy raised an eyebrow, "Wait, what?!"
"Yeah, you never heard the story? The kook was a famous scientist or something like that. One day, he decides to stop going outside and becomes a shut-in. Very few people actually see him around. A couple of years after that, he vanishes. Doesn't answer the door. Doesn't return letters. Doesn't pick up the phone. Nothing…"
The confused girl shook her head, "I don't get it. I mean, this place isn't a mansion, but it's kinda cozy. Who would give all this up just like that?"
Robbie shrugged his shoulders in response, "I dunno. But, think about it, Wen. This place is probably a squatter's dream!"
"Do you think that's how those other stories started? The ones about the missing kids?"
Robbie jeered at her suggestion, "For all we know, those were created by some hobo to keep people away. Like that old cartoon with the talking dog? All the bad guys were really just losers in masks and cheesy outfits!"
"I guess…"
The pair went over to the couch and sat down. A small cloud of dirt shot down as their back ends hit the cushions. After a moment of awkward silence, Wendy and Robbie turned to face each other simultaneously with the same thought on their minds:
"Selfie pics?"
"Selfie pics!"
Within seconds, the teens had pulled out their phones and started taking snapshots of themselves. They each made serious and silly faces while scrunched up besides each other in an attempt to fit inside of the same frame.
Robbie's pock-filled face lit up at the sound of hearing his girlfriend's attractive giggling. "Yes!" he screamed on in the inside. He knew that this would work; that dorky twelve-year-old wasn't the only one that could take her on exciting adventures.
"See?" he asked the girl at his side. "This wasn't so bad, was it?"
"Yeah, I guess you're right." Wendy agreed. "And hey, now we've got bragging rights to say that we're the only ones that actually –"
*CRASH*
Robbie hopped up to his feet, "WHAT WAS THAT?!"
Wendy remained seated calmly on the couch, "Not sure. Probably just the house settling…"
*CRASH*
"There it is again!" He looked down at his coolly-collected partner with widen eyes, "Maybe – Maybe we should go check it out…"
Wendy had other intentions in mind, "You could if you want to," She kicked off her boots and stretched her nimble legs, wiggling her socked toes all the while, "But I'm feeling quite comfy right where I am."
"What?! You're not coming with me?"
"Nope…" the ginger sunk deeper into the cushioning. "Besides," she teased with a mischievous smile, "Dipper wouldn't have to have me hold his hand to go exploring…"
A surge of rage overcame the outraged goth, "You're going to compare me to that little –" He stopped in his tracks, and took a second to calm himself. "Fine!" he finally gave in, and turned towards the source of the noise.
Once Robbie left the room, Wendy took full advantage of the opportunity. She placed her legs up on the other arm of the couch. She leaned her head back onto the left one, taking a second or two to wiggle around to become comfortable. With a hint of pride, she flicked her trademark trapper hat, allowing it to drape down over her face.
"Sucker…" the spunky teen whispered to herself as she enjoyed the recently-established leg room.
Robbie crept back into the entrance of the house. He could have sworn that he heard the noise stemming from that direction.
"Hello?" he called out. "Anybody there?" The worried gothic boy received no response.
In spite of the haunting silence, Robbie continued forward, the comment Wendy made about Dipper still stinging in his mind. "Stupid kid!" he belittled under his breath. "I'll show her! I'm way braver than "junior" could ever hope to be!"
As he approached the exit, something quite off caught his eye. The closet door was left slightly opened. Robbie's heart jumped out of his chest, "That was closed when Wendy and I passed it last time…"
His eyes scanned around the room, looking for anything that could be used as a potential weapon. Due to lack of choices, Robbie settled for an old umbrella had stuck out of a holder near the front door. As he grasped the doorknob, a form of hidden nostalgia struck the adolescent hard. Robbie remembered that as a child, he was deathly afraid of his bedroom closet. The mixture of light and shadow would often play tricks on his young mind, often leaving him to believe that some sort of ghoul stalked him from within his room. It was to the point that he secretly kept a night-light on while he slept until the tender age of thirteen; something that he prayed that Wendy or the other guys would never find out about.
Robbie shook the imagery from his head. A lot had changed within the last few years. He wasn't the same, scared kid from his memories. With a bit of courage in his gut, Robbie threw open the door with a growl and raised his umbrella, "COME OUT OUTTA THERE!"
Nothing was to be seen inside the closet except for the usual expectations. A series of different colored shirts and jackets were hung up neatly onto a robust bar. Behind him, a lone grey hoodie dangled from a metal hook.
"Phew!" Robbie wiped the sweat from his brow, his adrenaline still pumping. "Nothing…Nothing to worry about…"
Suddenly, he felt something wrap around his wrist. Before Robbie knew what was happening, his arm was firmly pulled over his head, forcing him to drop his weapon. A moment later, the same thing happened with his left forearm, leaving the boy defenseless.
"What the – " Robbie looked overhead, his jaw dropping in utter horror.
The gray hoodie at his back had come to life. Flailing around wildly, its arms wrapped itself around the frightened goth, holding him in place.
"WEN –" Robbie went to scream for help, only to have another armless sleeve cover his mouth. His sights shot forward to see that the other shirts and jackets had sprung into being, each reaching out for the ensnared male.
Robbie tried to pull away, but the clothes had a tremendous grip on the skinny teen. "How can this be?" he asked himself. "They're not real! They're not real!" To make matters worse, he could feel the closet door being forced shut as it repeatedly slammed itself against his back.
"They're trying to force me inside!"
Robbie tried to push against the sensation, only to have more ghostly articles wrap themselves around his limbs. His cut-off sneakers dragged against the wooden floors as he was pulled deeper into the closet.
As the door shut firmly, one last muffled scream could be barely heard; a failed attempt to warn the carefree girl in the next room that the rumored danger was indeed, real as can be. A faint flash of light shone from beneath the crack at the bottom of the door, only to be replaced once more with peaceful accord…
From the next room, Wendy found herself drifting in and out of sleep as she awaited the return of her boyfriend. "C'mon, Robbie," she bemoaned. "What's taking so long?" She let out an exhaust of air, "He probably went to use the bathroom or something…"
As Wendy went to close her eyes again, she felt something wrap around her socked foot tangling from the end of the couch's armrest. She sat up to see that nothing but there. Puzzled, the teenaged girl went back to her original positioning on the sofa. As lethargy overtook Wendy once more, reminiscence from childhood filled her dreamscape.
The impression of having her ankle fasten reminded her of a game from memory's past. After all, she was an older sister to three troublesome little brothers. As would any other babysitter, she was expected to be found in this situation at least once. More often than naught, she would end up being the "robber" to their "cops," the "Indian" to their "cowboys," or the "secret agent" to their "interrogators."
Things would always end up with the kind-hearted sibling being tied hand and foot to either a wooden kitchen chair or the huge recliner in the living room. While held captive, Wendy would be forced to be shot at with NYARF darts, have food tossed at her, or even have her feet tickle-tortured for hours on end. Despite the annoyance of such trials, she knew that it was a small price to pay to have her brothers pre-occupied, instead of getting themselves into more serious trouble.
However, not every single time was fun and games. Usually, such instances would usually end with Wendy breaking free and wrestling each of the boys until all four Corduroys were exhausted. As they grew older (and their knot-tying improved), she discovered that freedom wouldn't be obtained quite so easily. In their cruelty, her brothers would leave her in an immobilized state as they roamed unchecked. Sometimes, her father would come home from work and find his daughter, only to shake his head in disapproval, "So, they got you again, huh?"
Through it all, a hidden fear lurked in her bottom of her heart. What if her dad never came home to her rescue? What if she was forced to remain trapped like that without any hope of escape? No meal or bathroom breaks? A sense of vulnerability formed as Wendy realized that she was completely powerless if anything was to find her in such a state.
Once more, Wendy sensed something encircling her right ankle.
"Robbie?" She called out. "Is that you?"
The feeling quickly spread to her other foot. She giggled as something brushed against her stocking sole, "Whatcha doing down there?"
As in the past, Wendy decided to give into this playful nature. She continued to keep her eyes shut as a slight breeze blew past her. An instance later, Wendy experienced the same impression against her dainty wrists.
"Ohhhh! I think I get it…" the freckled-face teen flirted with her extra-quiet boyfriend. "Am I supposed to be the damsel-in-distress, and you have to save me from the evil, scary ghosts?" Wendy threw her arms over her head, "Might as well get it over with…"
"OWW!" Wendy cried out as her restraints were abruptly pulled taut, digging painfully into her wrist and ankle skin. "Darn it, Robbie! That hurt!"
Wendy opened her green eyes to see that she was all by herself. "Robbie?" She went to sit back up, only to find herself too stretched out in order to do so. Her hands were firmly attached to the left support. The right armrest apparently held Wendy's feet in a death grip.
"Robbie, this isn't funny!" As her heart rate increased, the alarmed young adult rotated her wrists and ankles in a desperate attempt to gain some slack; all of her escape attempts were for naught.
Wendy started to hyperventilate. This was exactly like her worst nightmares. A horrid thought crossed the ginger's mind: what if Robbie did this purposely? What if he left her bound and exposed in a haunted house as a sick, practical joke; perhaps to get even with her over all of her comments about Dipper.
"Robbie?" Wendy coaxed, her voice rising to a nervous octane, "You win, okay? I swear, if you stop this and let me out, I'll forget about the whole thing! No kidding! It's actually quite funny when you think about it…" She let out a series of forced laughs in hopes that Robbie would buy her sincerity.
Her pleas went unanswered.
As Wendy tried to figure out what to do next, her fingers twitched against her bindings. It felt as if she had placed her digits into something sticky, similar to bubble-gum.
"What…?"
Wendy looked up to see that her manacles were actually made of a soft, pink material. After a second of studying the strange sight, she came to a horrifying conclusion: the organic substance was pulsating.
"Is…Is it breathing?" It began to dawn on the fifteen-year-old that her boyfriend had nothing to do with her current peril.
All of a sudden, the couch began to vibrate beneath the trapped teen. "WHOA!" The sofa rose onto its hind legs, carrying Wendy along in tow.
"What's going on?! How can this be real?!" Wendy turned around to see that two red and yellow beady eyes had formed on the cushioning just above her shoulder blades. She shrieked at the top of her lungs as they blinked at her.
A low growl came from underneath Wendy. The rightmost seat had split open, revealing rows of jagged, sharpened teeth. Goosebumps spread across her flesh as she could feel its hot breath against her bottom.
With another ear-deafening roar, the couch began to waddle its way out of the living room. Its wooden, well-furnished legs padded its way through the soft carpeting until it loudly scrapped on the barren floor of the entryway. Wendy tried to push away from the monstrous piece of furniture, but it retained its death-grip on the struggling girl.
"ROBBIE!" Wendy cried out in vain, "WHERE ARE YOU?! HELP ME, PLEASE!"
The sofa stopped in front of the closet door. Wendy's emerald eyes widened as the door threw itself open, exposing a blue, swirling portal.
"ROBBIE! ROBBIE, PLEASE!"
As the sofa brought Wendy into the portal, another bright light filled the dimly-lit room.
"AAAAHHHH!"
When the light faded, the world returned back to normal. The closet door resealed itself. A barely-audible *CLICK* insured that it would not be opened again quite so easily. The settee was returned to the parlor; all evidence of its mobility or livelihood had vanished along with the truly petrified redhead. The lingering stillness came back to the house. From the outside, a brief sound of echoing thunder boomed throughout the complex, as if it was mocking laughter. Several creaks and groans rattled throughout every nook and cranny as the dwelling welcomed its newest guests to a permanent stay…