House Of Leaves Novels & Stories

“It’s just through here.” Swinging open the door, Kate stepped aside, allowing Georgia to slowly shuffle into the spare bedroom. Red, swollen eyes drifted around the room, taking in the fluffy, black comforter thrown atop the twin bed, the antique lamp inherited from Kate’s grandmother centered on the mahogany nightstand and the small, hexagonal mirrors positioned above the gray headboard. Chewing her lower lip, Georgia stepped toward the neatly-organized bookshelf nestled in the corner, a pink acrylic nail brushing along the spine of one of the books. “The Haunting of Hill House,” she mumbled, nodding her head in approval. “Like the show?”

I screamed, trying to call for help, but the sound of a fallen steel blasted me instead. I leaped from my bed. No, not mine, the bed, and planted my gaze in the dark room, struggling to see through the thick darkness. The house was shrouded in a pale mist like cobwebs and dead grasses which leaked from its cracked panels and splintered beams, running across and all over the room. With every cloud of swirling vapour, the house seemed to be breathing deeply, like a dragon with smoking nostrils.

"Hello. I was sent to bring you to the William's house" They successfully arrived, Kehna and her father were wowed by their house more like a mansion. Kehna was still busy gasping and looking around when she heard someone yell " Kehna!" She turned and the next thing she felt was the weight of Ruby, who jumped on her. "I'm so happy you came" Kehna smiled slightly leaving Ruby unsatisfied with her response "Let's go inside," Ruby said but Kehna quickly held her wrist as a sign for her to wait... "Wait Ruby, we didn't bring anything"

The lady flicked her fingers, and he suddenly felt an extensive amount of energy getting out of his body; he was feeling light and relaxed. Again, he heard the eerie chants of this woman, and for a moment, he thought that his imagination was getting out of hand when the lady vanished from his sight in just a blink. And before he could even react, his eyes pulled him to doze off. THE sight of dried palm leaves roofing came to view when Eleand woke up. He was dumbfounded upon realizing that he was inside a small room with the smell of fresh flowers. He was not sure of how long he had been asleep.

12 I wake up alone, morning light slanting through blinds, whispered words in Tibetan tumbling through my addled brain, and for a good half a minute I have no idea where I am. I’ve only seen this room by candlelight and it’s alien at first until my eyes find the deformed candle stumps, the ash trail of incense on a silver burner supporting the charred end of an exhausted stick, and the hilt of the phurba jutting out of its triangular base like a demonic birthday candle in a wedge of cake.

Automatic. A crow pecked at Louise’s azalea bush, its feathers gleaming oil-slick black. It cocked its head at me, one eye glowing faintly red, and dropped a moth-eaten playing card—the King of Spades—at my feet before vanishing. Louise hauled me through the front door, oblivious to the crow, her grip vise-tight. The living room stank of mildew and old bourbon, the air syrupy with decay. Overhead, the bulb flickered like the Greyhound sign’s dying gasp. *Birmingham: DEPARTED.* My legs moved, but I was floating outside myself, watching the girl with scraped knees and hollow eyes stumble past the rusted stove, its burners cold as Louise’s laugh.

I sat cross-legged on my living room floor, wearing nothing but an oversized black t-shirt that barely reached my thighs, my dark hair spilling loose over my shoulders. The air smelled of damp wood and the vanilla candle flickering on my coffee table, casting jittery shadows across the room. In my hands was a leather-bound book I’d picked up at a flea market that morning—an impulse buy, its pages yellowed and etched with strange symbols. I thought it was just some occult novelty, but boredom and the storm’s restless energy had me flipping through it, reading aloud words I didn’t understand.

Three days before Sheldon was supposed to leave the country, he mortgaged our house. He even helped us pack, moving me and the boys into a tiny one-room basement unit on the third floor down. It was barely 300 square feet and was damp, musty, and dark. Sheldon stood in the middle of that little room, talking to our sons as if he was giving some grand speech.

I steeled myself and opened the door. The hallway was awash in red. Smears and spatters of bright and dark blood covered the walls, the floor, and my door. My head reeled. What the hell happened? Why was there so much blood outside my door? Hadn't the guy in 603 seen it through his peephole? I couldn't help looking toward apartment 603. To my surprise, the door stood half-open, and it was dead quiet inside. I picked my way past the bloodstains and made my way to apartment 603.

When the vegetation became more spaced and the area began to give way to the land covered by a failed lawn, little by little a house was rising. It wasn't a mansion, but it was very close. It looked like a bungalow of a lost prince, or Tarzan's residence after earning a good fortune. The whole house was made of a shade of dark wood, which made it look like the dry leaves, whose roof slid down as if in an illusion that it was falling. If it were to count for each window, it would be easy to deduce that there would be at least ten rooms on that side, there should still be much more on the other. I realized that I was not the only one to show that I was perplexed, because Joseph and Julya even