A Nightmare on Oak Street
You can call me Martin. Like London always does. You can call me Cody. Like everyone else does. Although Mom sometimes calls me 'her baby'. You may not call me Codester, I hate that name, that's why Zack always calls me that. Just call me Cody. I'm married. Bailey Pickett. And we're about to move into a beautiful house on Oak Street, Boston. The only problem is, we didn't know what it contained inside the doors.
………………………………………………………………………………………………
1
"Sign here," the lady said, pointing at a specific spot on the contract. Cody Martin signed. "And here." Cody obeyed. "And here." Cody signed and put the pen down.
"Good. So we're done signing?"
"Oh, heaven's no, there's a whole other page." She grinned, turning the page. Cody's eyes widened.
"Oh," he said, picking up the pen again. "Yay."
"Sign here. So, are you just going to be living here on your own?"
"No, I'm married."
"Ah," she said. "Sign here. So what made you pick my house?" He signed.
"Well, Bailey liked the master bedroom and I liked the office. Plus, it's close to our family."
"Well I do believe you made the right choice," she said, grinning.
"So do I," Cody replied.
"Sign here." Cody signed one last time and put the pen down. Cody was signing at his apartment, which would soon be his brother's. Zack married Maddie, and they were about to move in. When Zack came into the apartment for the first time, he checked everywhere for 'used protection'. Just to check if Cody and his girlfriend were having some 'extra fun'. "Well, the house is all yours. Here's the deed," she handed him the deed, "and the keys. Have fun." She stood up, shook his hand, and said farewell. She exited the apartment. He sat there for fifteen minutes looking at the deed until the door opened. He looked up as Bailey Pickett closed the door. She looked at the piece of paper in his hand and grinned.
"Is that what I think it is?" she asked.
"Heck yes! Babe, we have a house!" She grinned even wider.
"What?"
"We. Have. A. House." She frowned. "What's wrong, babe?"
"What street was it on again?"
"Oak. Why?"
"You've never heard of the," she glanced around, as if someone was listening, "the story?"
"No." She walked over to him and sat on his lap. "Tell me the story."
"I don't think I should," she replied, smiling. "It's only for fearless men."
"I'm fearless! Wasn't it my idea to go see The Fourth Kind?"
"Yes, and we saw it. You were hiding your eyes like a little girl!"
"Just tell me the story!"
"Fine. Back in 1872 there was this woman who lived in Boston. Her name was Judie Stevenson. She was out in the fields one day when this old dude asked her if she would like to check something out."
"This is starting to sound like The Lovely Bones."
"Don't interrupt, honey! Anyway, she said she had to get home. He said okay, but then as she was about to turn away, he said, 'I just really wanted to show you something'. She turned around, faced him and said, 'Alright'. The following morning, she was found dead in her basement. There was blood everywhere. On the walls, on the floor, on herself, on the stairs. Obviously they thought that the parents murdered their child, but they didn't. They said they loved her and would never hurt her. They said they woke up and found her there. But they took the parents to jail. They put the body of Judie Stevenson in a coffin and shoved it into Pearl Harbor, where it remains to this day."