Death Trap
By Metabad
When I woke up, my vision was overwhelmed by intense bright light. I blinked, and still the white light surrounded me. I took a moment, letting my vision adjust. I looked around, I couldn’t recognize my surroundings, but I knew I was in a dark room. Something felt very wrong, this place felt very unfamiliar. This was not my home, nor anywhere else I recognized. I had a sinking feeling, I knew I needed to get out of here but first, I needed an explanation. Somewhere, somehow, in some way, this would all become clear to me.
I looked ahead. There was a large, arched window in front of me, along with small square windows next to it, bright sunlight seeped through them, the lights in the room were turned off, which at least explained why the light felt so overbearing at first. The light had a slight orange tint, the wooden floor was dusty, peeled and chipped away in various places, the mouldy walls had something of a red tint to them from the bright light shining through. This room was run down, no doubt about that. I headed to the right, to see what was in store...
Up ahead was a dining table, five plates were set out, behind it was a shelf filled with antique vases and pottery. Beyond that, was a couch next to a plant. If not for the mouldy smell, it might’ve been a nice room for a feast. I had to keep searching, finding any answers I could. I pressed on when I came across a door, I tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. It was locked. I had to search for a key, but no matter where I looked, none turned up. I kept trying to open the door in vain, hoping that maybe my strength would make the door give way. “It’s locked.” I kept muttering and repeating to myself with every failed attempt at opening the door. What was I thinking? I gave up and moved on. I needed to find answers, needed them soon.
I moved toward the couch, only to find a shelf with more antiques, there were books on a table, a vase next to purple curtains. A couch with pillows on it and a room with more potted plants behind the shelf.
I went over to the couch and sat down on it, there was a table with candles in front of it, and on the wall in front of it was a television. I searched around for a remote, only to abruptly hear loud, ear piercing static, I got up and the TV seemed to automatically turn on. I could only vaguely make out an image on it, but when the static cleared I could see a figure on it until it was fully visible. He looked like a lanky, pale clown in a gimp outfit. He had jagged, purple spiky hair jutting out of the sides of his head, he had a black leather mask on that exposed his black eyes and wide mouth, had what looked like a tattered torn up long sleeved grey vest on with purple cufflinks and golden shoulder pads. He had torn black and red shorts on, as well as fingerless gloves on, with long white nails on his fingertips. His body was thin, completely pale, he was skinny to the point of looking malnourished. When he opened his mouth to talk, I couldn’t help but notice his sharp teeth.
“Welcome to my house...” He said in a decrepit sounding voice. “Your aim is to get out. The only thing stopping you, is numerous death traps.” He let out a raspy, sinister sounding laugh. “I’ve made a little leeway for you by placing around some things you need to collect. Gather these clues to find your way out. If you can’t...then sayonara.” The TV shut off, and I thought I saw someone behind me in the reflection, it looked like a man in a white suit. When I turned around to look at him, I didn’t see anyone. I looked back at the screen, and there was nothing there. With no one else around, I decided to move on.
I found my way to the kitchen, brushing past some cabinets and drawers until I found a book on the desk next to the sink. I took it and looked at the cover. The words “Dead Book” were inscribed on it in blood with a red, inverted cross below them. I was hesitant to even touch the thing. What was waiting for me there? Was this one of the traps he was talking about? In any case I cautiously reached out, then in one swift motion, grabbed the book. I opened it and flipped through the pages, it seemed to have verses in it, though what they meant I’d have to figure out later. Nothing bad seemed to happen when I took it, so I figured this was one of the clues he left behind for me, rather than one of the death traps. Perhaps I would need it for one of those when the time came.
I came across a hallway with white, marble steps leading upstairs. I decided to go up, but tripped on the last step, as I fell over, everything was at a slant, and suddenly I found myself coming face to face with a pair of red eyes. They shifted around, leering at their surroundings, and whenever they saw me, those eyes peered right into my soul. I took out the Dead Book and looked through the pages, figuring these verses warded off evil spirits. I ran my finger along one of the passages and recited this incantation, it was in Latin. The spirit’s eyes glowed red as he faded away; I heard groaning noises as it dissipated. Now I had a good look at the hallway I was in, and there was a checkerboarded tile all across the floor. Rusted, metallic doors were all along the dingy, stained walls. Metallic lanterns ran across the ceiling. I went in the left door, against my better judgment.
The room was run down as I expected, it looked under furnished, the only things of note were a tipped over chair and a black table in front of me, a newspaper was on the table. Wondering what the paper said, curiosity overtook me, maybe this would answer my questions. Couldn’t hurt, right?
I picked up the paper and looked through it. “37 people missing!” The headline read. “In a bizarre week 37 people seemed to have disappeared from their homes, one identified victim appears to be a man named Ray Melala, family and friends are worried for their health and safety. The 32 year old has been missing since Monday, there have been no witnesses to his whereabouts. The family have asked anyone to come forward if they have seen any sign of him. 18 year old girl also missing, friends Jake Herman and Jamie Kurrie are worried for friend Lauren Bridgette who has also been missing since at least Monday.”
My God...I’ve been missing for days.
I couldn’t take it, I ran out of the room, bolting down the hallway, then stopped to catch my breath. I went to the left door, but it was locked and wouldn’t budge. Did I explore all the rooms downstairs? I couldn’t remember, so I headed downstairs, I ran to the right and found myself in a fireplace room. The fireplace was lit with a blazing fire, there was a key on the pedestal next to it. I grabbed it, it must’ve been the key for upstairs. I walked back and jammed the key into the hole on the right doorway, I gave it a good turn and opened the door widely.
It was a dark, musky bathroom, everything had a blue tint to it. Rats scurried about everywhere. A decaying corpse lay in the bathtub, flies buzzing around the decomposed body. “You’re next” was smeared on the wall in blood. “Oh my God.” I muttered as I went over to the sink, I needed to make sense of all of this.
I turned on the faucet and began washing my face, but when I looked in the mirror, half of my face was completely decomposed, my left eye was missing from its socket, blood pouring down on the torn up flesh. I ran out of there as fast as I could, I clutched my head and breathed heavily, trying to regain my bearings.
“Relax...it’s not real...” I muttered to myself, but even I wasn’t sure. I touched my face just to be certain, and sure enough my skin was intact. I sighed with relief.
“Just remember, I’m watching you.” The host’s voice echoed over an intercom. Just as soon as I felt reassured, of course something would happen that would immediately put me on edge again. I went further down the hall.
The room I entered was dark, but the lights immediately flickered on. I saw a billboard filled with fliers, one of the papers was marked “For You” so I took it. I looked around and sniffed as I smelled something strong, the room was slowly filling up with gas, I had to hurry up and do whatever it was that this madman wanted me to.
There was a single question on it. “How much percentage of the world’s serial killers are from America?”
Shit, the gas was overwhelming. The next thing I knew, everything went black. I don’t know when I woke up, I assume it was hours later, I found myself in a dungeon. I looked through the bars up ahead, and saw a sink filling up a trough, a cloth was hanging over it, there was a pot and pan next to it and a cup and hammer near the bars. I reached through, momentarily reaching for the cup...no, I didn’t need it. It was at an awkward angle, but I grabbed the hammer and slowly slipped it through the bars. I lost my balance, fell over on my back, but then quickly got up. Hopefully this would be useful.
And I was right, when I went up the stairs, I saw a shambling zombie skulking about, its face looked similar to the one I saw in the mirror, it dragged its foot along the floor, and when it saw me it opened its mouth widely, exposing its decomposed teeth. I reeled back, raised the hammer and took a mighty swing, a chunk of its flesh fell off, I took another swing to its chest and heard a loud crack, its ribs were shattered. Finally, I smashed it over the head, blood and brain matter poured out as it fell into a heap on the floor.
I ran further into the room, only to see that I was still in a dungeon with light seeping through the bars. “Let me out, you motherfucker!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. I saw that there was a vent on the wall. I figured that was the only way out of here, I pried it open and crawled through the vents, when I slid down out of the shaft, I was in another room, it looked like somebody’s personal room. A single book lay on the desk. I looked at it, and it was a diary. This sick freak probably revelled in making me read whatever horror was inside. I hesitantly opened it.
“This emotional torture is too much for me. I’ve tried to get out of here for days. Whoever is behind all of this is the core of all evil! He plays mind games and I’ve lost the plot in here.
If anyone reads this, fight till your last breath. Don’t let him get away. This house is in the middle of nowhere and is a funhouse for some sicko behind these walls.
Jake, Jamie, I love you guys.
God help me.
-Lauren B.”
That was the woman mentioned in the paper, I guess her and her friends didn’t make it. I felt a strange sense of loss. I may not have known them, but after reading that, I felt like I had known them for my whole life.
I walked out in the hallway and saw a payphone on the wall. Thank God. A way out. I took the phone and dialed 9-1-1, unfortunately it was disconnected, I heard the all too familiar beeps and standard message.
“You’d think I’d leave one here that works? That’s cute.” I heard his voice over the intercom. “Look at the calendar next to the phone. I kidnapped you three days ago, what does that make today?”
I remember the paper said it was on Monday. The calendar says it was April. I did the basic math and marked down Thursday.
I walked down the hall, the lights completely went out. I rummaged around through the darkness. I flicked on a lightswitch, and saw a pale, pointy eared creature that was baring its teeth at me. I ran in the other direction as fast as I could. Was this even real? Or was I going insane from all of this?
I went into the room on the right, there was a news report on TV that quickly cut to static. I heard that dreadful voice over the intercom once more. “You have done well to make it this far. Go back into the hall into the other room, there’s one more thing waiting for you.” He seemed to try to be reassuring, but I knew better. I just felt a sense of unease as I walked further down the hallway.
I opened the door and set foot in the final room, just as he said. It was a dark, abandoned room, with a single projector in the center of it. A film reel was already loaded into it. I pulled down the curtain, and turned on the machine.
“Here is your story.” The first image that flicked onscreen was a broken down car, smoke billowing out of it as it was broken apart against a gas station. “You just had a car accident, no one was around to help you out, you were unconscious in your car.” The next image was a picture of a run down house, dirt and grime, rotten wood everywhere. “I took you and brought you here and this is where the fun began. I set this place up to scare people out of their minds, the last man I brought here was sent to a mental institution.” There was a slideshow of the rooms I was in before. “You...you have done well, you have shown little fear and plenty of courage, and for that, I’m willing to let you go.” He chuckled to himself, as if he knew what I was thinking about right there. “You can call the cops and they’ll never find me.” It cut to an image of my oh-so gracious host. “As for Lauren, she’s dead. She was so scared, crying and begging for mercy. All she had to do was use her wits.” It cut to a picture of her smiling. “Why did I do this? For the hell of it. This house is full of cameras and I love to see people cower in fear.” It cut back to the gimp clown. “You are all my toys. As for you, make your way to the kitchen, I’ll be waiting for you there.” The footage cut out. This didn’t make any sense, how could the cops not arrest him if he was right here?
I got out of the makeshift theater and into the kitchen. White cabinets adorned the place, there was a fridge and an oven next to each other, along with an expresso machine on the counter. The door across the room opened up, and sure enough the one behind all of this entered, he seated at the center table of the room and motioned for me to come closer.
When I walked up to him to get a better look, I couldn’t help but feel something was off. He was much taller than he was in the footage, he had hollow, sunken in eyes, and black bags underneath his eyelids, as if he hadn’t slept in days. He appeared gaunt and frail, his hair was tangled and greasy, though still just as spiky as it was in the footage. When he opened his mouth to speak, I noticed his teeth were normal this time around.
“Welcome, I’m glad you arrived.” He splayed his hand out. “Please, have a seat.”
I raised my eyebrow, why was he being so accommodating and friendly now when he wanted me dead earlier? Nonetheless, I pulled out the chair and sat in front of him.
“Relax, I just want to have a chat over a cup of coffee.” He grinned. “Do you like coffee?”
“I...don’t mind it, I suppose.” I muttered.
“Good.” His voice sounded much more congested than it did in the recordings. He blinked one eye, and then the other. Something felt very off about him, like he was sick or out of it. Suddenly, a skeleton walked in, carrying a tray with a plate on it and two coffee cups, he tilted his head coyly when he got to our table. I jumped a little bit.
“Don’t mind that, he’s just our server.” The host said as if this was a normal every day thing for him. He took the plate of the coffee cups. “Thank you.” He nodded.
The skeleton nodded back and shambled his way out of there. I looked at the coffee. Surely, this was some kind of joke, right? Some kind of practical joke being played? He was a clown, after all.
“There’s gotta be some kind of catch to all of this, right?” I asked.
“Of course.” He grinned. “One of these is a normal blend, it will give you new energy, a nice start to a new lease on life.” He leaned in closer. “The other is poisoned, it will drain you of your energy, it will come to an agonizing end.” He leaned back in his chair. “Whether you want to make it out of here or not, depends on what choice you make now. You can escape, or forever remain here as a permanent guest.”
“How do I know they’re both not poisoned?” I asked.
“Now, where’s the sportsmanship in that?” He laughed, saliva flying out of his mouth.
“Why two coffee cups, exactly?” I pressed further.
“I’ll drink the other one.” He tapped the handle of both cups.
“Really? Even if it’s poisoned?” I folded my hands together.
“Yes, I promise.” He folded his hands as well, as if to mock me.
“How do I know you won’t pull any tricks on me?” I narrowed my eyes.
“Well, I suppose you’ll just have to trust me on that.” He did a coy shrug. I shook my head.
“And what’s forcing me to do this, exactly?”
“You have no choice.” He laughed. “With this, it’s all about luck.”
No kidding. I looked at both cups to see if there as a visual difference. Absolutely nothing. I took a whiff of the air, and only the overwhelming smell of both coffee cups entered my nostrils.
“How lucky do you feel?” He held up his index finger. “Drink one.”
I looked over at the two cups, there was no difference between the two. They looked the same, they smelled the same. It really was all about pressing my luck, and I was gambling with my life. This would take a long time to decide, all while that freaky lanky gaunt psycho was staring at me, grinning from ear to ear, eager to see what my choice would be. He delighted in my life being in his hands, I could tell.
I touched the base of both cups, they were piping hot. I looked over at the right one. The right one was always right, right? I’m right handed, surely he’d know by observing me writing on that test or the calendar, that must’ve been it, surely.
Or maybe that’s what he wanted me to think, maybe he made the right one poisonous just to throw me off, perhaps it was some subtle message about how I’m a bad person, maybe he was left handed and wanted to display his superiority in some kind of fucked up way.
I looked at his face, it was unmoving, he just rested his chin casually against his hands, waiting for me to make my decision. This really seemed to entertain him, he could probably have watched me all day.
I was likely overthinking this, this house was getting to me, but how could I not? Especially after the mind games this guy played on so many people, I could end it all for him if I chose correctly, but if I made the wrong decision, it would be the end of everything for me. My life was on the line, and although I could take my time with it, one wrong move and it would all be over.
I looked over at the left cup again, the host eyed it as well. I looked at the right cup, his eyes followed mine. I swear he was mocking me while he bided his time.
I reached over to the left cup, I thought there would be some subtle difference to his expression, but it remained unmoving. I reached to the right, same thing, nothing. This man’s poker face was impenetrable.
I made my decision, it really was all just luck. I grabbed the right one, that’s the one I felt comfortable with, I gripped the handle firmly, sure and steadfast in my decision.
The weirdo licked his lips and took the left cup, he raised it in the air. “Cheers.” I dared not to clink my cup against his, lest any of the liquid got into each other. He held his cup up to his mouth and took a sip, I did the same. We sipped our coffee for a while, it was...actually delicious. I felt okay, this would be almost be pleasant if this guy wasn’t such a psychopath, I almost forgot that one of them was poisoned, but when I remembered my anxiety rose up, my stomach was in knots, I didn’t know if that was poisoned or just an overbearing sense of dread.
When the coffee was finished, we put our cups down on the plate, we had finished all of it, no drop was left. I looked at him, he still had his grin on, his hollow, unblinking eyes staring at me.
“Adios.” He whispered to me. What did that mean? Was he saying goodbye because I drank the poison, or was I free to leave?
He started laughing. I drank the wrong one, didn’t I? I was going to die. I knew it. I should never have trusted this animal.
His body began to shake, his chest was moving up and down as his laugher got more maniacal. Suddenly, he started coughing hard. His coughs got more and more violent in between his laughs, until his laugher devolved into full on coughing. It soon became apparent, he started foaming and frothing at the mouth, he was choking on his own spit as his body jostled back and forth, his limbs shaking at their sides, he was having a full on seizure, still sitting in his chair. With one last horrible gurgle, he coughed out blood and lowered his head, his body completely slumped over.
He had drank the poison, and I was free to live another day.
I got out of that hell house alive. Looks like I was the only one, the next day, I told the cops, they went over to investigate the place, but found absolutely nothing, not even the corpse of the one who trapped me there. Did someone move that body out of there? Was he really dead? Was that just an impostor, another victim that he ended up brainwashing into thinking he was him, just so he could play his sick little games with us? I don’t know, I’ll never know. Something tells me he’s still out there somewhere, and that he’ll do all of this again. One thing’s for sure, I’m never driving through Chamberlain Road again.
I looked ahead. There was a large, arched window in front of me, along with small square windows next to it, bright sunlight seeped through them, the lights in the room were turned off, which at least explained why the light felt so overbearing at first. The light had a slight orange tint, the wooden floor was dusty, peeled and chipped away in various places, the mouldy walls had something of a red tint to them from the bright light shining through. This room was run down, no doubt about that. I headed to the right, to see what was in store...
Up ahead was a dining table, five plates were set out, behind it was a shelf filled with antique vases and pottery. Beyond that, was a couch next to a plant. If not for the mouldy smell, it might’ve been a nice room for a feast. I had to keep searching, finding any answers I could. I pressed on when I came across a door, I tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. It was locked. I had to search for a key, but no matter where I looked, none turned up. I kept trying to open the door in vain, hoping that maybe my strength would make the door give way. “It’s locked.” I kept muttering and repeating to myself with every failed attempt at opening the door. What was I thinking? I gave up and moved on. I needed to find answers, needed them soon.
I moved toward the couch, only to find a shelf with more antiques, there were books on a table, a vase next to purple curtains. A couch with pillows on it and a room with more potted plants behind the shelf.
I went over to the couch and sat down on it, there was a table with candles in front of it, and on the wall in front of it was a television. I searched around for a remote, only to abruptly hear loud, ear piercing static, I got up and the TV seemed to automatically turn on. I could only vaguely make out an image on it, but when the static cleared I could see a figure on it until it was fully visible. He looked like a lanky, pale clown in a gimp outfit. He had jagged, purple spiky hair jutting out of the sides of his head, he had a black leather mask on that exposed his black eyes and wide mouth, had what looked like a tattered torn up long sleeved grey vest on with purple cufflinks and golden shoulder pads. He had torn black and red shorts on, as well as fingerless gloves on, with long white nails on his fingertips. His body was thin, completely pale, he was skinny to the point of looking malnourished. When he opened his mouth to talk, I couldn’t help but notice his sharp teeth.
“Welcome to my house...” He said in a decrepit sounding voice. “Your aim is to get out. The only thing stopping you, is numerous death traps.” He let out a raspy, sinister sounding laugh. “I’ve made a little leeway for you by placing around some things you need to collect. Gather these clues to find your way out. If you can’t...then sayonara.” The TV shut off, and I thought I saw someone behind me in the reflection, it looked like a man in a white suit. When I turned around to look at him, I didn’t see anyone. I looked back at the screen, and there was nothing there. With no one else around, I decided to move on.
I found my way to the kitchen, brushing past some cabinets and drawers until I found a book on the desk next to the sink. I took it and looked at the cover. The words “Dead Book” were inscribed on it in blood with a red, inverted cross below them. I was hesitant to even touch the thing. What was waiting for me there? Was this one of the traps he was talking about? In any case I cautiously reached out, then in one swift motion, grabbed the book. I opened it and flipped through the pages, it seemed to have verses in it, though what they meant I’d have to figure out later. Nothing bad seemed to happen when I took it, so I figured this was one of the clues he left behind for me, rather than one of the death traps. Perhaps I would need it for one of those when the time came.
I came across a hallway with white, marble steps leading upstairs. I decided to go up, but tripped on the last step, as I fell over, everything was at a slant, and suddenly I found myself coming face to face with a pair of red eyes. They shifted around, leering at their surroundings, and whenever they saw me, those eyes peered right into my soul. I took out the Dead Book and looked through the pages, figuring these verses warded off evil spirits. I ran my finger along one of the passages and recited this incantation, it was in Latin. The spirit’s eyes glowed red as he faded away; I heard groaning noises as it dissipated. Now I had a good look at the hallway I was in, and there was a checkerboarded tile all across the floor. Rusted, metallic doors were all along the dingy, stained walls. Metallic lanterns ran across the ceiling. I went in the left door, against my better judgment.
The room was run down as I expected, it looked under furnished, the only things of note were a tipped over chair and a black table in front of me, a newspaper was on the table. Wondering what the paper said, curiosity overtook me, maybe this would answer my questions. Couldn’t hurt, right?
I picked up the paper and looked through it. “37 people missing!” The headline read. “In a bizarre week 37 people seemed to have disappeared from their homes, one identified victim appears to be a man named Ray Melala, family and friends are worried for their health and safety. The 32 year old has been missing since Monday, there have been no witnesses to his whereabouts. The family have asked anyone to come forward if they have seen any sign of him. 18 year old girl also missing, friends Jake Herman and Jamie Kurrie are worried for friend Lauren Bridgette who has also been missing since at least Monday.”
My God...I’ve been missing for days.
I couldn’t take it, I ran out of the room, bolting down the hallway, then stopped to catch my breath. I went to the left door, but it was locked and wouldn’t budge. Did I explore all the rooms downstairs? I couldn’t remember, so I headed downstairs, I ran to the right and found myself in a fireplace room. The fireplace was lit with a blazing fire, there was a key on the pedestal next to it. I grabbed it, it must’ve been the key for upstairs. I walked back and jammed the key into the hole on the right doorway, I gave it a good turn and opened the door widely.
It was a dark, musky bathroom, everything had a blue tint to it. Rats scurried about everywhere. A decaying corpse lay in the bathtub, flies buzzing around the decomposed body. “You’re next” was smeared on the wall in blood. “Oh my God.” I muttered as I went over to the sink, I needed to make sense of all of this.
I turned on the faucet and began washing my face, but when I looked in the mirror, half of my face was completely decomposed, my left eye was missing from its socket, blood pouring down on the torn up flesh. I ran out of there as fast as I could, I clutched my head and breathed heavily, trying to regain my bearings.
“Relax...it’s not real...” I muttered to myself, but even I wasn’t sure. I touched my face just to be certain, and sure enough my skin was intact. I sighed with relief.
“Just remember, I’m watching you.” The host’s voice echoed over an intercom. Just as soon as I felt reassured, of course something would happen that would immediately put me on edge again. I went further down the hall.
The room I entered was dark, but the lights immediately flickered on. I saw a billboard filled with fliers, one of the papers was marked “For You” so I took it. I looked around and sniffed as I smelled something strong, the room was slowly filling up with gas, I had to hurry up and do whatever it was that this madman wanted me to.
There was a single question on it. “How much percentage of the world’s serial killers are from America?”
- 30%
- 55%
- 70%
- 85%
Shit, the gas was overwhelming. The next thing I knew, everything went black. I don’t know when I woke up, I assume it was hours later, I found myself in a dungeon. I looked through the bars up ahead, and saw a sink filling up a trough, a cloth was hanging over it, there was a pot and pan next to it and a cup and hammer near the bars. I reached through, momentarily reaching for the cup...no, I didn’t need it. It was at an awkward angle, but I grabbed the hammer and slowly slipped it through the bars. I lost my balance, fell over on my back, but then quickly got up. Hopefully this would be useful.
And I was right, when I went up the stairs, I saw a shambling zombie skulking about, its face looked similar to the one I saw in the mirror, it dragged its foot along the floor, and when it saw me it opened its mouth widely, exposing its decomposed teeth. I reeled back, raised the hammer and took a mighty swing, a chunk of its flesh fell off, I took another swing to its chest and heard a loud crack, its ribs were shattered. Finally, I smashed it over the head, blood and brain matter poured out as it fell into a heap on the floor.
I ran further into the room, only to see that I was still in a dungeon with light seeping through the bars. “Let me out, you motherfucker!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. I saw that there was a vent on the wall. I figured that was the only way out of here, I pried it open and crawled through the vents, when I slid down out of the shaft, I was in another room, it looked like somebody’s personal room. A single book lay on the desk. I looked at it, and it was a diary. This sick freak probably revelled in making me read whatever horror was inside. I hesitantly opened it.
“This emotional torture is too much for me. I’ve tried to get out of here for days. Whoever is behind all of this is the core of all evil! He plays mind games and I’ve lost the plot in here.
If anyone reads this, fight till your last breath. Don’t let him get away. This house is in the middle of nowhere and is a funhouse for some sicko behind these walls.
Jake, Jamie, I love you guys.
God help me.
-Lauren B.”
That was the woman mentioned in the paper, I guess her and her friends didn’t make it. I felt a strange sense of loss. I may not have known them, but after reading that, I felt like I had known them for my whole life.
I walked out in the hallway and saw a payphone on the wall. Thank God. A way out. I took the phone and dialed 9-1-1, unfortunately it was disconnected, I heard the all too familiar beeps and standard message.
“You’d think I’d leave one here that works? That’s cute.” I heard his voice over the intercom. “Look at the calendar next to the phone. I kidnapped you three days ago, what does that make today?”
I remember the paper said it was on Monday. The calendar says it was April. I did the basic math and marked down Thursday.
I walked down the hall, the lights completely went out. I rummaged around through the darkness. I flicked on a lightswitch, and saw a pale, pointy eared creature that was baring its teeth at me. I ran in the other direction as fast as I could. Was this even real? Or was I going insane from all of this?
I went into the room on the right, there was a news report on TV that quickly cut to static. I heard that dreadful voice over the intercom once more. “You have done well to make it this far. Go back into the hall into the other room, there’s one more thing waiting for you.” He seemed to try to be reassuring, but I knew better. I just felt a sense of unease as I walked further down the hallway.
I opened the door and set foot in the final room, just as he said. It was a dark, abandoned room, with a single projector in the center of it. A film reel was already loaded into it. I pulled down the curtain, and turned on the machine.
“Here is your story.” The first image that flicked onscreen was a broken down car, smoke billowing out of it as it was broken apart against a gas station. “You just had a car accident, no one was around to help you out, you were unconscious in your car.” The next image was a picture of a run down house, dirt and grime, rotten wood everywhere. “I took you and brought you here and this is where the fun began. I set this place up to scare people out of their minds, the last man I brought here was sent to a mental institution.” There was a slideshow of the rooms I was in before. “You...you have done well, you have shown little fear and plenty of courage, and for that, I’m willing to let you go.” He chuckled to himself, as if he knew what I was thinking about right there. “You can call the cops and they’ll never find me.” It cut to an image of my oh-so gracious host. “As for Lauren, she’s dead. She was so scared, crying and begging for mercy. All she had to do was use her wits.” It cut to a picture of her smiling. “Why did I do this? For the hell of it. This house is full of cameras and I love to see people cower in fear.” It cut back to the gimp clown. “You are all my toys. As for you, make your way to the kitchen, I’ll be waiting for you there.” The footage cut out. This didn’t make any sense, how could the cops not arrest him if he was right here?
I got out of the makeshift theater and into the kitchen. White cabinets adorned the place, there was a fridge and an oven next to each other, along with an expresso machine on the counter. The door across the room opened up, and sure enough the one behind all of this entered, he seated at the center table of the room and motioned for me to come closer.
When I walked up to him to get a better look, I couldn’t help but feel something was off. He was much taller than he was in the footage, he had hollow, sunken in eyes, and black bags underneath his eyelids, as if he hadn’t slept in days. He appeared gaunt and frail, his hair was tangled and greasy, though still just as spiky as it was in the footage. When he opened his mouth to speak, I noticed his teeth were normal this time around.
“Welcome, I’m glad you arrived.” He splayed his hand out. “Please, have a seat.”
I raised my eyebrow, why was he being so accommodating and friendly now when he wanted me dead earlier? Nonetheless, I pulled out the chair and sat in front of him.
“Relax, I just want to have a chat over a cup of coffee.” He grinned. “Do you like coffee?”
“I...don’t mind it, I suppose.” I muttered.
“Good.” His voice sounded much more congested than it did in the recordings. He blinked one eye, and then the other. Something felt very off about him, like he was sick or out of it. Suddenly, a skeleton walked in, carrying a tray with a plate on it and two coffee cups, he tilted his head coyly when he got to our table. I jumped a little bit.
“Don’t mind that, he’s just our server.” The host said as if this was a normal every day thing for him. He took the plate of the coffee cups. “Thank you.” He nodded.
The skeleton nodded back and shambled his way out of there. I looked at the coffee. Surely, this was some kind of joke, right? Some kind of practical joke being played? He was a clown, after all.
“There’s gotta be some kind of catch to all of this, right?” I asked.
“Of course.” He grinned. “One of these is a normal blend, it will give you new energy, a nice start to a new lease on life.” He leaned in closer. “The other is poisoned, it will drain you of your energy, it will come to an agonizing end.” He leaned back in his chair. “Whether you want to make it out of here or not, depends on what choice you make now. You can escape, or forever remain here as a permanent guest.”
“How do I know they’re both not poisoned?” I asked.
“Now, where’s the sportsmanship in that?” He laughed, saliva flying out of his mouth.
“Why two coffee cups, exactly?” I pressed further.
“I’ll drink the other one.” He tapped the handle of both cups.
“Really? Even if it’s poisoned?” I folded my hands together.
“Yes, I promise.” He folded his hands as well, as if to mock me.
“How do I know you won’t pull any tricks on me?” I narrowed my eyes.
“Well, I suppose you’ll just have to trust me on that.” He did a coy shrug. I shook my head.
“And what’s forcing me to do this, exactly?”
“You have no choice.” He laughed. “With this, it’s all about luck.”
No kidding. I looked at both cups to see if there as a visual difference. Absolutely nothing. I took a whiff of the air, and only the overwhelming smell of both coffee cups entered my nostrils.
“How lucky do you feel?” He held up his index finger. “Drink one.”
I looked over at the two cups, there was no difference between the two. They looked the same, they smelled the same. It really was all about pressing my luck, and I was gambling with my life. This would take a long time to decide, all while that freaky lanky gaunt psycho was staring at me, grinning from ear to ear, eager to see what my choice would be. He delighted in my life being in his hands, I could tell.
I touched the base of both cups, they were piping hot. I looked over at the right one. The right one was always right, right? I’m right handed, surely he’d know by observing me writing on that test or the calendar, that must’ve been it, surely.
Or maybe that’s what he wanted me to think, maybe he made the right one poisonous just to throw me off, perhaps it was some subtle message about how I’m a bad person, maybe he was left handed and wanted to display his superiority in some kind of fucked up way.
I looked at his face, it was unmoving, he just rested his chin casually against his hands, waiting for me to make my decision. This really seemed to entertain him, he could probably have watched me all day.
I was likely overthinking this, this house was getting to me, but how could I not? Especially after the mind games this guy played on so many people, I could end it all for him if I chose correctly, but if I made the wrong decision, it would be the end of everything for me. My life was on the line, and although I could take my time with it, one wrong move and it would all be over.
I looked over at the left cup again, the host eyed it as well. I looked at the right cup, his eyes followed mine. I swear he was mocking me while he bided his time.
I reached over to the left cup, I thought there would be some subtle difference to his expression, but it remained unmoving. I reached to the right, same thing, nothing. This man’s poker face was impenetrable.
I made my decision, it really was all just luck. I grabbed the right one, that’s the one I felt comfortable with, I gripped the handle firmly, sure and steadfast in my decision.
The weirdo licked his lips and took the left cup, he raised it in the air. “Cheers.” I dared not to clink my cup against his, lest any of the liquid got into each other. He held his cup up to his mouth and took a sip, I did the same. We sipped our coffee for a while, it was...actually delicious. I felt okay, this would be almost be pleasant if this guy wasn’t such a psychopath, I almost forgot that one of them was poisoned, but when I remembered my anxiety rose up, my stomach was in knots, I didn’t know if that was poisoned or just an overbearing sense of dread.
When the coffee was finished, we put our cups down on the plate, we had finished all of it, no drop was left. I looked at him, he still had his grin on, his hollow, unblinking eyes staring at me.
“Adios.” He whispered to me. What did that mean? Was he saying goodbye because I drank the poison, or was I free to leave?
He started laughing. I drank the wrong one, didn’t I? I was going to die. I knew it. I should never have trusted this animal.
His body began to shake, his chest was moving up and down as his laugher got more maniacal. Suddenly, he started coughing hard. His coughs got more and more violent in between his laughs, until his laugher devolved into full on coughing. It soon became apparent, he started foaming and frothing at the mouth, he was choking on his own spit as his body jostled back and forth, his limbs shaking at their sides, he was having a full on seizure, still sitting in his chair. With one last horrible gurgle, he coughed out blood and lowered his head, his body completely slumped over.
He had drank the poison, and I was free to live another day.
I got out of that hell house alive. Looks like I was the only one, the next day, I told the cops, they went over to investigate the place, but found absolutely nothing, not even the corpse of the one who trapped me there. Did someone move that body out of there? Was he really dead? Was that just an impostor, another victim that he ended up brainwashing into thinking he was him, just so he could play his sick little games with us? I don’t know, I’ll never know. Something tells me he’s still out there somewhere, and that he’ll do all of this again. One thing’s for sure, I’m never driving through Chamberlain Road again.
The End