The House Of Horror の小説・ストーリー

It wouldn’t always be an illusion of what she secretly wanted to see here, currently, she was happy, so she was seeing things that made her happy, but should someone cross her or she gets upset, she will see Hell for what it really is. “Home, sweet home,” I said as we approached my Victorian-era style home. Abby’s face was somewhat surprised, “It’s…beautiful…” She said and I chuckled at her. “Come on, I want to show you inside.” * * Damien had his hand on my lower back as we walked up to the all-black house. I dreaded what I would find once inside his home. More of the Hell that Damien knew and loved with shackles and more burning ember to walk on. I took one last look at the sky above me an

Thankfully, I had run away from my parents when that blast happened, so I didn’t kill anyone. I had no idea what we were getting into, but as we approached the house; I knew we were fucked. The bush we were hiding behind was thick, so seeing what was all going on was hard. Men were walking in and out of the house, and some were sitting on the porch swing. A small sign read, “Rose’s mixers.” We were downwind, and the look of their skin told me they were vampires. And they don’t sleep. “So, we are supposed to break in to a house that is a 24 hours store with vampires and witches?” Ben stated the obvious.

PROLOGUE: Dream House June 2006 The house crouched there on the corner of Abercorn and Wayne like something alive but dormant, a hibernating beast, which may soon awaken and swallow the world whole. Standing across the street in Crenshaw Square, Brad Storm thought he would describe the house in those terms in one of the horror stories he liked writing. Despite the tour guide’s eerie tales about the place’s rather macabre history, Brad only saw a gorgeous Greek Revival mansion. Sure, the house was neglected and in serious need of repairs, but the bones were sturdy. Brad could use his hyperactive imagination to see beyond the busted windows and missing shutters, the moldering brick and general

I thought it was scary because they have nice props, they are using something that truly looks like blood, and the sound effect suits the place. Suddenly someone grabbed my foot, it was cold as ice, my flashlight and Dean's died just in time. Okay, I'm taking my word back against this horror house. I can see nothing but darkness and a little light from the flickering lights. My mind goes telling me; 'Just go straight and don't enter the room to get out of the horror house immediately.' That cold hand is nowhere to be found. I was relieved after that. I heaved a deep breath, and I didn't realize that I was holding Dean's wrist, it was really my reflexes. It was unintentional, I swear!

Only registered by the dying scream of sensors that weren’t supposed to exist anymore. ~~~~~~~~~~ THE BLACK HOUSE — NURSERY — SAME MOMENT Lorenzo hadn’t moved in six hours. He sat in the chair by Emilio’s cot, one hand resting on the child’s ankle, feeling for signs of anything unnatural: pulse spikes, eye twitching, the soft click of code behind breath. But Emilio had been still. Until now. The lights flickered. Then failed. The air turned thick. As if something sacred had just been killed. Then—

Putting out the fire, they easily invaded the territory of the werewolves. “Stay alert!” Deyanira warned. A howl from afar caught her attention. The House was easily seen from where they stood, as it was erected into a small hill. And what she saw on top of it sent shivers down her spine. The large silhouette of a werewolf standing in its two feet, his physique shrouded by darkness with the moonlight perfectly shining down on him. He was hunched back, but it only accentuated his fearsome silhouette. He howled to the moon, and that was when she realized he was the owner of the spine-chilling howl. They had been expecting them.

The next second, the Patchwork Monster tore the man in half. He tossed the body outside casually. Just then, a crisp, bell-like voice sounded outside. “It’s after work hours, who’s so rude as to be throwing bodies around?” A young girl with three heads and eight arms appeared at the doorway. With just one look at the shop, anger filled her voice, and her hair stood on end. “Who the hell had a death wish and smashed the Number One Must-Eat shop in the entire horror game?”

"That company is targeting me. Everything in that place is targeting me. I'm not going back tomorrow. If I stay there any longer, I'll die." After calming me down, Adam tried to persuade me, just like he had in my previous life. "How could office equipment target you? Machines aren't alive. There's no such thing as something that evil. You must be stressed from job hunting. "Besides, your company has great benefits. You're making almost 60 thousand dollars a year before benefits, with weekends off and paid leave. "Be good. Give it a few days, and you'll adapt." I shook my head violently. "No. It is real. Please believe me. Look at my hand. The coffee machine burned me on purpose."

“Of course. Very serious work.” He passed her the soda. His fingers brushed hers. A little spark—not magical, just human—ran up her arm. The lights dimmed further as yet another trailer started, this one for something involving a haunted house, a mismatched group of friends, and a lot of stylish screaming. “Do you want to skip this one?” he asked quietly. “We can close our eyes and pretend it’s an insurance commercial.” “I write horror,” she said. “I can handle a trailer.”

“OH MY GOD I HATE THIS HOUSE.” From the distance, the House hummed irritably—offended. “Sorry, Brenda!” Samantha yelled. The House buzzed once—accepting the apology. --- Then the hum changed. Turned sharp. Frantic. Panicked. Samantha stiffened. “Lucien. That’s Brenda. What is she saying?” I listened. Varyn House was screaming through the roots of the earth. One word. Over and over. Danger. “Sebastian,” I said softly.