I don’t know how many times I wound up in some creepy house looking for some supernatural being. It always seemed to be the place they liked to flock, none of them ever found themselves in a posh apartment in some penthouse casino or hotel. Always some dumpy house that no one lived in or some place in the middle of no where.
The first creepy house I went into was my mother’s. She had just passed and I was given the keys as my inheritance. It was the only thing she left me. The place had been empty for years, my mother apparently choosing to live someplace else.
The floor boards creaked when I stepped on the porch. The light’s flickered before beaming down their florescent yellow. There were cobwebs and dust everywhere. It was such a pain in the ass to clean I almost left but my compulsion for order overrode everything else and I spent several days cleaning what was now my house.
I can’t stand it. It brings back to many old memories. Memories I want forgotten forever. The house now belongs to the Venatori despite the fact that it is outright mine. I didn’t want the scenic view to go to waste nor for it to sit unused, there were plenty of Venatori that needed a vacation spot. And I stayed there when I was in town despite my own misgivings.
It’s still creepy with the creaky floor boards and flickering lights, but it’s my creepy house now.