FOR SALE
Content Warning: Graphic scenes of violence and harm
The house sat dark and brooding in the distance, the aura of darkness casting an imperceptible shadow over the sunny yellow exterior, the front yard, and the woods out back. A slight chill ran down Elizabeth’s spine and she hugged her arms to herself, though she couldn’t quite place why. Her husband, Cameron, glanced over at her funnily while the realtor continued to prattle on about how “quaint” and “homely” the little farmhouse was.
“It really is the cutest little place,” she chirped from the driver’s seat into the rear-view mirror. Her decades outdated hair locked into place with Aqua Net hairspray, no doubt, didn’t move as she returned her eyes to the dirt driveway and excitedly nodded to herself. “Just the cutest.”
Cameron reached out for Elizabeth’s hand, then gave it a loving pat before he interlaced his fingers with hers. She smiled. How could she explain to him that the moment they crossed the threshold from the main road to the driveway, a sinking feeling had settled over her and a blackness clouded her mood like whatever was clouding the house? How could she explain that something was wrong with the house without him thinking she was sick again, hallucinating and imagining things? So, she smiled, and gave his hand a little squeeze. He grinned and turned back to the front just as they pulled up to the house and came to a stop under a large red maple, the color of a blazing wildfire.
“Absolutely stunning!” the realtor said as she stepped out of the car with her arms held wide. “So bright and cheerful.”
The two of them exited the car and followed the realtor up onto the wrap-around porch.
“Beautifully maintained,” the realtor said while she typed in a code on the lock box that held the key. It beeped angrily at her, signifying an incorrect code. The realtor huffed and flashed them a placating smile to hide her embarrassment. “Excuse my large fingers,” she laughed. “Imagine sitting out here on a beautiful Fall afternoon like today with a nice glass of wine and a good book. I bet the inside is even better!”
She pulled out a little slip of paper and unfolded it to reveal 4 numbers: 2649.
“Oh, I thought you said you had seen this house before,” Elizabeth commented, watching the realtor struggle with the code.
“Not this one, no. Darndest thing. The information showed up in my mailbox with a sticky note that we would be the first to see it and of course it’s perfect for you two. Truly perfect. The owners are just a bit unique and old-fashioned. They want to make sure their home goes to the right family. I’ll just have to find out whoever sent it to me and give them a big ol’ thank you! Now why won’t this darn lock box open?”
Elizabeth couldn’t shake that something was wrong with the house, despite its “bright and cheerful” image. She glanced around at the front yard and down to the end of the porch before it disappeared around the side of the house. It appeared to indeed be, “the cutest little place,” and any other time, she probably would’ve leapt at the opportunity to live here with Cameron. Any other time. This time, however, it didn’t feel right. It felt downright predatory, if a house could be described that way. Was she the only one feeling this? Apparently, the realtor was rattled by the lock, but Elizabeth thought she seemed one coffee away from her heart stopping anyway. No, the realtor wasn’t bothered by the house. Elizabeth looked over at Cameron who had been watching her while she uneasily surveyed the house.
“Everything okay?” he murmured.
“Oh yes, yes. I’m just finding the right code!” the realtor jumped in, thinking Cameron was speaking to her.
“Headache,” Elizabeth said with a small smile.
“Here we go!” the realtor announced proudly as the lockbox popped open and revealed an antique bronze key.
She took it and held it up for Elizabeth and Cameron to see.
“Well, I’ll be,” the realtor commented with an odd sort of reverence. “I don’t think I’ve seen a house key like this one in my entire career. And, not to date myself, but I’ve been doing this a long time…”
“Cool,” Cameron said, looking at it closer. The history nerd in him couldn’t resist. “I mean, fascinating.”
When Elizabeth looked at the key, she didn’t envision a history rich with family, love, or any kind of happiness. Instead, she sensed nothing but blood, rust, and decay. She seemed to be the only one able to see behind the happy mask that the house was wearing.
“You know what?” she broke in. “I’m not really feeling well… I really think we should just come back another time.”
“Oh my!” the realtor clucked. “Are you sure I can convince you of a quick walk through? Since we’re already here…?”
She smiled innocently at Elizabeth and Cameron gave her hand a little squeeze to get her to look at him. He cocked his right eyebrow, ever so slightly.
“I just… I just would like to leave. Please.”
She locked eyes with him, pleading, willing him to not ask questions.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, of course, love.”
He gave her hand another squeeze, only this time he kept his grip as if to say I’m here. He turned firmly to the realtor.
“I think we’ll just have to come back.”
“Oh geeze.” She looked down at the ornate key in her hands, back at the front door, and then back at Cameron. “It’s such a promising little property. It won’t last long out here once it’s on the market.”
“We’ll just take our chances. Now, we’d very much like a ride back to town so that she can rest.”
A moment of silence.
A distant howling, guttural scream.
The three of them jogged around the wrap around porch to the back of the house where the woods seemed even darker, even more ominous, than before.
“Was that a person?” Elizabeth asked breathlessly. “What was- “
A shrieking cry.
“I’m calling the police,” the realtor stated, clearly shaken but trying to keep a brave face.
As she began pressing numbers on her cell phone’s touch screen, a blast of wind darted out from the woods and blew into them. A sickly smell of decay and rot settled on the air, ushered in by the breeze. The realtor brought a manicured hand to daintily cover her nose.
“Oh my,” she whispered, bringing the cell phone up to her ear.
“I don’t like this,” Elizabeth admitted to Cameron.
There was no hiding her fear now. It was written on her face just the same as it was written on his. Then, she watched the color drain from his face, mirroring hers, as a third agonizing wail rang out. The sound was terrible. A sharp bellowing unlike any human cry Elizabeth had ever heard before. It made her nauseous with terror. Still, with the forest looming and the terrible sounds, the house sat bright like a beacon in the darkness.
“What is that smell?” Cameron asked with a sniff.
“It smells like death,” Elizabeth murmured over the realtor telling the emergency operator what was going on and where they were. “Please, Cam. Can we go?”
“What do you mean the address doesn’t exist?”
Cameron and Elizabeth both raised their eyebrows and the realtor shrugged.
“It’s a beautiful,” she emphasized for Cameron and Elizabeth with a smile, “yellow country house near some woods. I’m standing right in front of it.”
Another gust of wind whipped up from the thick undergrowth in the forest and with it, an even more incredible stench. The realtor gagged, unable to suppress it as she would’ve liked, and turned her back to Elizabeth and Cameron to retch off the porch.
“Jesus,” Cameron coughed. “That is foul, whatever it is. Let’s just get out of here, okay? The police can come investigate this further. I’m about to lose my lunch and you just lost yours.”
The realtor dabbed at the edge of her mouth politely, as if she had just eaten a snack, and then smoothed some of the stray strands of hair that had popped out of the neat coiffe. She blushed, clearly embarrassed, but still trying to remain strong for the sale.
“They can’t find the address,” she said quietly. Then, to the emergency operator. “Yes, I’m still here. Like I said, there was someone… screaming in the woods behind the home. It sounded terrible. And now there’s a stench coming from the woods, too.”
The realtor placed the copper key back into the lock box and led them all back to the car. Once inside, she continued to speak with the operator while trying to get her car to start.
“What’s wrong?” Elizabeth asked, sensing the woman’s own growing panic.
“It’s odd… My car won’t start…”
Elizabeth felt a coldness wash over her and she glanced back at the house. The woods seemed darker. Larger. Somehow the sun itself had become hidden behind a silvery layer of clouds. It was as if the woods were pressing, breathing, growing.
Elizabeth could see it so clearly and for a moment she was grateful. Maybe she wasn’t losing her mind after all. Maybe the hallucinations that plagued her, the ones the doctors couldn’t seem to treat, weren’t hallucinations at all. But that brief feeling of validation was again swept away by a wave of fear.
“The forest is alive,” she whispered.
Cameron looked over at her, confused.
“It’s alright,” he cooed. “I’m sure it’s just a dead animal.”
“Are you saying that for me or for you?” she asked, withdrawing her hand from his. “Because I know what is happening is real.”
“Oh Liza. Sweetie.”
He looked at her with a look of pity, but Elizabeth didn’t hold it against him. People like him could never understand what it was like to feel things others couldn’t. To see them and hear them. So, for him to be exposed to something so far removed from “normal,” it was understandable that he would be in denial.
“You don’t feel it?”
“Feel what?”
“The air here isn’t right. The house isn’t right. The woods definitely aren’t right.”
“I think the house is so cute,” Cameron said with a frown. “And the air ‘isn’t right’ because something is dead in those woods.”
“Yeah, and we’re next if we don’t get out of here,” Elizabeth cautioned, gesturing to where the realtor was slumped back in her seat, still on the phone with the emergency operator.
“Well, my car won’t start, so either way we’re abandoned here. Yes. Yes. Look, I already told you where we are. Well, that can’t be because we’re parked right in front of the property. The house is yellow. You can’t miss it.” She turned around in the seat to face Elizabeth and Cameron. “The operator is asking me to go to the edge of the road. The police are nearby but are having trouble finding the property for some reason. You two stay here and I’ll be right back.”
She opened the car door, letting in more of the putrid smell Elizabeth knew wasn’t simply a “dead animal.” With the phone pinched between her ear and her shoulder, she leaned over and removed her heels, tossing them into the passenger seat, and placed on a pair of flats she had stashed in the glovebox.
“Always be prepared,” she sang out with pride. “Be right back.”
And in a flurry, she was gone and powerwalking down the long, dusty driveway to the main road. The main road had begun to lose its brightness, veiled behind a gray layer of mist. Still, they could just make her out as she waved her left arm back and forth over her head, her right one still holding the cell phone to her ear. An eerie silence settled over the car, both Elizabeth and Cameron holding their breaths.
“Hello!” screeched the realtor through the curtain of fog.
Dark shadows began to form in the fog. The figures were black, or at least as far as they could tell, and menacingly tall. Too tall. Together, Elizabeth and Cameron gasped as they watched the realtor drop her arms, pivot, and start to sprint back to the car.
“HOLY FUCK,” the realtor barked out as she approached the car, throwing her pristine façade to the wind.
Elizabeth had grabbed ahold of Cameron’s hand and now squeezed it so hard her knuckles were white. It was then that she realized the figures weren’t people at all. They were trees, trunks and branches with the leaves removed as if it was the dead of winter. These trees moved much like spiders, their roots skittering across the ground with terrifying speed. Tears formed in Elizabeth’s eyes as she felt the primal fear that comes with imminent death.
The trees caught up to the realtor, their spindly roots whipping back and forth. They slashed at her exposed calves and then burrowed deep into the cuts until Elizabeth and Cameron could see the poor woman’s legs splitting. The realtor screamed and howled, dropping the cell phone and reaching down to claw at her legs, though it was a futile effort. The roots now burst out from her midsection like jagged tentacles. Blood sprayed as the roots jerked their way up her chest, the occasional root inserting itself slowly into her, causing her to cry out in agony.
She was begging for her mother, now, with raw screams. The trees lifted her up between them as if performing some sinful ritual sacrifice by tearing this woman apart. The roots wriggled under her skin like maggots and crawled over her like worms. She was being digested as her body was torn apart. Her cries had quieted until eventually they stopped.
Elizabeth furiously wiped at the tears that now flowed freely down her cheeks. This was it, she thought. This was how she was going to die: unavoidable terror while she was consumed.
"We have to go," Cameron whispered, carefully unlocking the car door and inching his way out.
"Where are you going?" Elizabeth asked him in a panicked, hushed tone. "Don't go out there!"
"I'm going to try to get in the house. Come on."
He reached his hand out to her and for a moment, all Elizabeth could focus on was the horrific wet crunching sounds coming from the realtor being consumed. She glanced over and Elizabeth watched with horror as the realtor’s head snapped off and tumbled to the blood-soaked grass below. Smaller roots revealed themselves from the dark nest beneath the trees and attacked the realtor’s head hungrily, diving into her eyes and shoving their way into the woman’s terror-frozen mouth. Without any further hesitation, she grabbed Cameron's hand and climbed out of the car. Without shutting the car door, the two of them crept back to the porch, the stench from before still lingering on the air.
"What was the code?" Cameron whispered, shakingly pawing at the key lock box.
"2649," Elizabeth offered.
She turned slowly to look back at the trees. Not much remained of the realtor and the trees themselves had begun to fight over the scraps like wild animals. Pieces of the woman's tattered clothing lay soaked in blood off to the side.
"Hurry," Elizabeth whispered, clutching Cameron's shoulders. "They're almost done."
Cameron's whole body was shaking, pumping adrenaline through his veins almost exclusively. Elizabeth could tell he was having trouble controlling his fingers, so she gently pushed him out of the way and typed in 2649. The box beeped and clicked open to reveal the old key once more. The sound, however, alerted the trees, which began to twitch with excitement. They dropped the realtor's remains to the grass and began lurching their way across the drive towards the front porch.
Elizabeth thrust the key into the doorknob, her hands surprisingly steady for the amount of fear she was feeling. Still, the door didn't unlock. She furiously jiggled the key and Cameron began to throw himself against the door in an attempt to get it to dislodge.
"Come on," she pleaded with the door. "Open up!"
"It's stuck!"
One of the trees had made it to the base of the porch, its long roots darting back and forth like a snake's tongue, tasting the air. One of them lashed out, like a whip, and slashed open a large gash on Cameron's calf. He howled out in pain, tears coming to his eyes.
"No!" he cried out, swatting at the root as it tried to insert itself into the wound. "No, please!"
The lock suddenly clicked, and the front door swung open on its own. Elizabeth and Cameron tumbled inside, the roots flicking back and forth through the doorway. She turned and threw herself against the door, pinching the roots in the process. A deep and furious groan, like wind through an ancient forest, came from the trees outside. Cameron joined Elizabeth and together, they managed to sever the roots and lock the door. Drops of Cameron's blood made soft "pat, pat, pat" noises on the floor as they tried to catch their breath.
Outside, a hush fell over the trees. Elizabeth shakily glanced out through the peephole. The trees had planted themselves firmly in the ground, their horrific roots deceivingly snuggled beneath the dirt. The dead trees looked out of place lining the driveway to a house of sunshine. And she knew that if she were closer, she would no doubt see blood and gore mashed into the jagged bark. She shuddered.
“Are you okay?” Elizabeth asked, turning to face Cameron.
“It got me in the leg really good,” he said.
He gently stuck his leg out for her to inspect. The roots had shredded Cameron’s jeans and carved long gashes into his flesh. How he was still standing was a mystery. The adrenaline, Elizabeth thought. He’ll be in extreme pain once he calms down.
“Let’s see if the previous owners left anything here for us to wrap you up with.”
Elizabeth turned and really had a look around the house. While the outside was cheery and bright, the inside was ravaged by decay. Roots and vines covered the floor and a thick black mold choked everything from the floor to the ceiling. This, this is what she had felt as they pulled into the driveway and she had her first glance at the house. Death.
“You’re seeing this, too, right?” she whispered, afraid that if she spoke too loudly, the vines would take notice of them as the trees had.
Cameron groaned and slumped down to the floor. Elizabeth knelt next to him, noticing that beads of sweat now dotted his face.
“What’s wrong? You’re burning up.”
She felt his forehead and his head began to lull back and forth, his eyes fluttering back into his head. A pool of ruby colored blood spread out beneath his leg.
“Cameron, speak to me,” Elizabeth said.
He moaned, coming to briefly before leaning his head back against the door. She stripped off her shirt and twisted it tightly around his leg, just above his knee. Cameron was reinvigorated by the pain and he shot up, eyes wide, and began to claw at his leg.
“Get it out of me!” he cried. “It’s in me!”
“Calm down! You just have a fever, love! They only cut you!”
“I feel it in me!”
He dug and scratched at his leg, swatting and shoving at Elizabeth occasionally as she tried to get him to calm down.
“You’re okay, Cam,” she said shakily. “I promise you’re okay.”
“It’s in me,” he insisted. “You’ve got to cut my leg off!”
“No! You’ve got a fever!”
As if it had heard her, a web of tiny roots splayed out from the now blackened edges of one of the cuts in his leg. They both screamed in terror and Cameron tried to grab onto the roots.
“I can’t believe this is happening!”
“Help me, Liza! Do something!”
Elizabeth’s concern catapulted her up off the floor and she sprinted to the kitchen, roots, vines, and mold be damned. Dirty dishes were piled in the sink, half covered in black water. On the edge sat a rusted chef knife. She looked around in a panic for anything larger, anything cleaner, but ended up coming back to the kitchen knife. She ran back to Cameron, sobbing at the idea that she had to cause him so much pain; sobbing at the idea of losing him so horrifically.
“Cameron I can’t do this.”
She kneeled next to him and hung her head, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed.
“You have to. I can feel it in me, Liza. Please.”
“Is this real?” she asked him, but he began to scream out in pain, digging at his leg once more.
“You’ve got to do it now!” he shouted.
The veins in his neck were bulging and his face was turning red with effort. He was straining against the pain and it was about to get significantly worse.
“We don’t have anything to help you through this,” she reminded him through her tears. “You’re going to feel it all.”
“Just do it!”
Elizabeth swallowed.
“Here we go.”
She quickly cut away his jean pant leg revealing a black and purple calf swollen to twice the normal size. He had stopped bleeding. The roots writhed under his skin, threatening to burst through and spill out. Cameron clutched his leg just above the makeshift tourniquet to steady it for her and pinched his eyes shut.
With as much force as she could muster so this could be as quick as possible, Elizabeth carved into his knee. The sticky, grinding sound of the knife hacking away at the joint was drowned out by Cameron’s wails. A few seconds in and he had thankfully passed out from the pain. Elizabeth gagged and brought a bloodied hand up to her face. She wiped her tears on her wrist and began to move the knife back and forth in a sawing motion. A few crunches more and his lower leg dropped off, small roots flicking back and forth from the bloodless stump. Elizabeth screamed and kicked the leg, catapulting it through to the living room to send it as far away from them as possible.
Cameron was propped limply against the door, still unconscious, but no blood came from his leg. Elizabeth’s heart sank.
Again, he snapped awake. His face was distorted in fear and pain. She had dreamt this moment many times. She had told her therapist about this exact scenario just how real it had felt in her dream, and she knew what came next. No amount of medication could help her now. It never could.
Cameron now began to gasp for air, his terrifying wheeze filling the otherwise silent house. He scratched at his neck. Elizabeth crawled forward, crying, but kept herself at arm’s length from him.
“It’s okay, honey. I’m here,” she sobbed. “I’m here. You’re not alone.”
He wheezed until the sound was choked in his throat. His eyes were wide and frantic as he stared at her. He wordlessly pleaded with her to help him. Help him. His face was turning a deep shade of reddish purple now, his eyes a deep red. He began to thrash about, new tendrils of roots inching their way out of his mangled knee.
“I love you so much, Cameron,” Elizabeth wept. “I’m right here with you.”
She could see the roots pulsing beneath his neck skin and running under the pallid skin of his face. Still, no sound escaped his open, terrified mouth. She wished she could hold him, comfort him, but she didn’t dare scoot any closer to him. He didn’t suffer for long, eventually going limp. Elizabeth howled as she helplessly took in the sight of him. Cameron’s body was swelling and pulsating now and as Elizabeth stood to get away from him, tiny roots flicked their way out of the blackness of his open mouth.
Elizabeth screamed. She had always thought this nightmare was just that; a nightmare, meant to torment and traumatize her while she slept, not a real-life calamity. She stumbled her way back into the filthy kitchen and threw herself towards the window above the sink. Outside, she could see that the forest seemed closer to the house than before. More of the dead trees were camped out a mere 100 feet from the window. She shuddered, feeling as if they were watching her like a fly caught in a web and they were ravenous spiders.
She pulled out her cell phone and held it up. No service. She was fully alone. Something more than fear began to grow inside her. Her grief was transforming into a white-hot rage at the loss of Cameron, and she snapped. She tossed her useless phone onto the revolting countertop and began rifling through the drawers and cabinets in the kitchen. When she found what she was looking for, a small sob escaped Elizabeth’s lips. She had decided she wouldn’t die like Cameron or the realtor.
The house seemed to groan and shutter as Elizabeth sloshed vodka on the ground and the walls. She returned to the kitchen and returned to Cameron’s root-swollen body with a dusty bottle of rum. With robotic motions, Elizabeth unscrewed the cap, took a long pull of the liquor, and began to pour it over his body. The roots shrank back and flitted angrily away from the alcohol. Then, she doused herself with the rum and withdrew a pack of matches. The first few she struck on the pack didn’t even fizzle, spark, or smoke. They were dead like everything else around here, long-since decayed over time. Eventually, she got one to light and stay lit and she held it out to one of the vines on the wall. With a swooping whoosh, the flame spread quickly across the roots, vines, and mold, igniting quicker than she had imagined they would.
A deafening high-pitched screech came from all around her, causing Elizabeth to reflexively clutch her hands to her ears. The match, still lit, caught on her rum-soaked hair, and her head was engulfed in flames. Her own screams joined that of the house and in a flash, the trees outside were scrambling to get inside. She continued to howl with anguish as she ran around blindly, her eyes bursting from the blaze. Thick black smoke billowed up the walls and loomed overhead. It wasn’t long before Elizabeth dropped to her knees and was swallowed up by the inferno she had created to destroy the house and, hopefully, the forest with it.
Outside, the sunny disposition of the house had begun to crack. Smoke oozed out from beneath the front door. The trees paced back and forth anxiously like hungry animals. The house, swallowed by the smoke and flame, burned for hours until all that remained was a smoldering pile of ash and scorched wood. The bones of Cameron and Elizabeth were both buried beneath the rubble. The crackling of the dying embers was all that could be heard until a soft moaning sound began to rise up from the ashes. The trees began to sway, creaking and clacking in a cacophony of dead branches. Small openings formed in the ash and roots began to splay up and out like the fingers of the living dead climbing from their graves.
Piece by piece, the roots began to reform the house, lacing together to form a rough structure. With great effort, the roots recreated the sunny yellow exterior of the house, setting everything back to almost how it had been before the fire. Upon closer inspection, the house could be seen to have little inconsistencies, each time losing some of its genuineness to the cheap imitation. Walls weren’t quite straight. Shutters were missing. Stairs to the porch were lopsided and riddled with decay. A battered, “FOR SALE” sign sprouted slowly from the ground at the edge of the driveway and small roots swallowed up the remains of the realtor. The trees settled in along the driveway and the house sat sweetly, almost innocently, at rest.
A sheriff’s vehicle came to a stop at the end of the driveway with its lights off. The sheriff looked out and noticing the realtor’s car, he decided to have a look. But first, he’d call back to HQ to give them an update.
“This is Sheriff Taylor. I think I’ve found that missing realtor’s car off Duchess Road a ways. I’m headed up to the house to see what I can find,” he reported over the radio.
“Copy that, Sheriff,” came a young female’s voice. “Be careful.”
“Will do.”
He placed the radio back in its holder on the dash and turned his patrol car down the driveway. From the road his patrol car was able to be seen melting away into a deep, silvery fog, a stench like rotting corpses hanging heavy in the still air.
