The beat up old car groaned and creaked unhealthily, a loud explosion under the hood of the car its final cry before dying out completely. In the darkness of the car's interior could be heard a series of repeated profanities, punctuated by an occasional double-fisted pounding on the steering wheel. A fog rolled in around the car, soundlessly, as the car's occupant also fell silent. For a while, everything was perfectly still except for the tendrils of white that drifted by.
At length, the driver's side door creaked open and Jeremy stepped out, coat drawn up to his chin. He looked around for a moment, trying to gauge where he was. His immediate surroundings weren't obvious. With everything shrouded the way it was, all he could tell was that he stood on the side of a gravel road, quite possibly in the middle of nowhere.
His cell phone showed reception, but all he got was screeching static. His options were to either try and fix the car or set out for help, and in both situations he felt completely helpless. He decided he would call someone as soon as his phone started working again.
With gravel crunching under his feet, he stepped back towards the road and contemplated his options. Either to go back from where he came and hope to find a gas station or a house he may have missed on his way here, or trek forward into the unknown. For a moment, he strained to remember anything he might have passed on his way here but nothing came to mind. That left the unknown as his only hope.
Tucking his hands in his pockets, he set off, abandoning his vehicle.
He'd only been walking for ten minutes when he began to perceive the outline of a large house by the side of the road, some ways into the woods. It was hard to see clearly, but a light was definitely on in one of the rooms. Without wasting a second, he hurried his pace in the hopes to reach the house before the light went out.
The small path that led to the house was overgrown from apparent disuse. An old rusted heap of a car was in the ditch, the model dating back at least thirty years. As he pushed through the overgrowth, he had to pause and listen occasionally. It was as if something was following alongside, just out of sight, hidden in the fog and trees.
As he cleared the path and reached the house's front yard, he was relieved to see he was alone and that it had just been his imagination. Animals were usually more frightened of people anyway, he reasoned. He was safe.
The front yard was illuminated by the light emerging from the window and the open front door. Jeremy stared at it in hesitation, wondering if anyone was home after all. The steps that led up to the porch and the front door were old and weather-worn, cracked and splintered in many places with large rusted nails sticking out. He was careful with each step, feeling his weight strain the aged wood.
A terrible smell emerged from the front door. It was a sour, putrid odor, that made him want to gag and had him more than a little worried. From somewhere inside, he heard the clattering of dishes.
He knocked carefully on the door, inadvertently pushing it open a little more. He got a good look of the inside and was a little repulsed by the lack of décor and taste. The living room was as old and aged as the stairs, everything in a state of disrepair. The wallpaper on the walls was yellowed and peeling, water damage stains all over the ceiling, furniture rotting and molding all around the room. A bright lightbulb hung from the ceiling, illuminating everything a little too well.
"Hello?" he called out. There was an open doorway that looked like it led into a kitchen area where a bustling noise could be heard. He tried again. "Hello? Um... I need some help."
He stepped forward, tentatively, to approach the kitchen. "I'm not here to hurt you or anything, my car just broke down and I need a phone that works..."
He reached the threshold and peered into the unlit kitchen, mildly surprised at what he saw. It was a man, dressed very smartly with a nice tie. He held in his hand a large butcher knife and was busily chopping something Jeremy couldn't quite make out.
"Excuse me?" Jeremy tried again. The man did not look up from his work. "Excuse me... Sir? Do you have a phone I could use?"
The man suddenly turned and paced quickly towards Jeremy but turned back to the counter at the last second, causing Jeremy to stumble back in surprise. The man had made brief eye contact and smiled, but continued to ignore him otherwise. The chopping continued, unhindered.
"I'm just... Do you mind if I check for a phone?" asked Jeremy, backtracking from the kitchen. He looked to the side and saw a doorway that led to a small corridor with a few sets of doors. He decided he would just check them quickly for signs of a phone, then get the hell out of this house. Moving briskly, the first door revealed a darkened, rot-infested room like the living room. The second was an empty closet, and the third gave him cause to stop in surprise.
It was a bedroom, with a very large king-sized bed. On a nightstand beside the table was a very old, musty black telephone. What caused him to stop, however, was that there were also two girls in the room, each sitting on an old wooden chair. It was hard to gauge their ages, but they looked like children. They were dressed in dirty old clothes and looked unkempt, dirt caked on their faces and skin. They stared at him owlishly, as if they'd been expecting him.
"Can I... use the phone?" he asked, faltering.
The eldest looking of the two nodded and he threaded his way to the telephone. As he picked up the receiver, he glanced out the window back towards the road and saw, to his surprise, three tall figures standing in the fog. He found himself unable to look away, trying to make them out. They all seemed unnaturally tall and dressed, from head to toe, in long black robes that covered their heads.
Then, simultaneously, all three of them turned towards the house and revealed that each wore a porcelain white mask with a grinning face painted on it. Jeremy immediately ducked out of the window's frame, telephone receiver in his hand, number undialed.
"Is it them?" asked the eldest girl to Jeremy.
"Them who?" he asked, feeling his heart pounding in his chest.
"The ones with masks," she answered. Her tone was nothing but sadness.
He dared another look but his quick peek revealed that they were no longer there. Not knowing where these three figures were suddenly filled him with dread. He put the receiver down and weaved back out into the hallway, deciding to find out what was going on from the man in the kitchen.
As he emerged from the hallway, however, he felt the blood drain from his face as the three hooded, masked figures entered through the front door, moving unnaturally silently. Each one's mask was glossy and perfect, the grinning face painted on with meticulous care, and there were no holes for the eyes, nose or mouth. Their stature was unnatural and they leaned at impossible angles, reminding him of snakes. As he stared at them, they each drew long, rusted butcher knives from their robes.
The man emerged from the kitchen, still with his knife, and greeted the figures. He smiled broadly at them and said: "Who's hungry?"
The three figures then glided towards Jeremy who was too terrified to react. They filed silently passed him, ignoring him completely, drifting towards the bedroom.
Jeremy stared back at them and then to the man who only stood grinning, a look of satisfaction and pride in his eyes.
The feeling returned to Jeremy's legs and he scrambled out the front door, stumbling down the front steps and running into the night, going as far as his legs would carry him, to disappear into the fog.