Chương 108: Chapter 108
The house sat at the end of a cracked dirt road, its peeling white paint barely holding together. Every time Liam stepped into it, the smell of dust and old wood wrapped around him like a blanket, thick and oppressive. His grandparents had passed away years ago, and they'd left him the place. There was no real reason for him to stay, but he couldn't bring himself to sell it. It was the only part of them left. So he lived there, alone.
The creaking floors under his feet sounded louder than they should, but the house had always done that. The wind, the pipes, the old wood. It wasn't unusual. At least, that's what Liam told himself every time he heard something that shouldn't be there. Every time a door opened without him touching it or the windows rattled for no reason. He had learned to ignore it, or pretend it wasn't happening.
Liam spent most days in the upstairs room, a small attic-like space with sloped ceilings, where his grandparents used to store their old things. He didn't know why he gravitated there, but he did. The room always felt colder, even when the rest of the house was warm. The floorboards were cracked, and the ceiling seemed to sag slightly, as though something heavy rested above it. It was the place where they'd kept their things—their lives, their memories—and now, it was just a storage room for Liam's loneliness.
He didn't have many friends. There was the occasional phone call, but he never really felt connected to anyone. His life had become routine. He'd wake up, eat, work from home, and then sit in the dark, staring at the walls. It was a quiet, miserable existence, but it was the only one he knew. The house, with its quiet corners and empty rooms, seemed to match the hollowness inside of him.
It was on one of those nights, while he was sitting on the edge of his bed, that the house began to change.
At first, it was small things—whispers that barely scraped his ears, the feeling of being watched when he was alone. It didn't take long for the sounds to grow louder, though. A low thudding noise, like something heavy was being dragged across the floor. Liam froze, his back stiffening as the noise grew. His hands shook as he stood and crossed the room, unsure of where the sound was coming from. He couldn't place it. The old floorboards creaked under his weight, but there was no one there.
It wasn't the house settling. He had spent enough years here to know the difference.
He walked slowly down the narrow hallway, the lights dim and flickering above him. The thudding continued, this time louder, coming from the stairs. Liam hesitated but moved closer. His pulse quickened, heart pounding as the sound grew nearer, closer, as if something were dragging itself toward him.
He stopped in front of the staircase.
The stairs looked the same as always, cracked and worn, the banister loose in places. The house seemed to groan as though straining under the weight of time. Liam took a step forward, but the floorboard under his foot gave way with a sharp crack, and he stumbled, catching himself against the wall. His breath came fast, but the thudding had stopped.
Everything was silent.
Then, it started again.
This time, there was a deep, guttural sound, like something dragging itself across the floor, but it wasn't just the sound. It was the feeling. A heavy pressure, pushing against his chest, forcing the air out of his lungs. His heart beat faster, and for a moment, he thought he might pass out. But then, from the corner of his eye, he saw something move. It was a shadow. At first, he thought it was his own reflection, but it was too deep, too dark.
Something was down there.
The stairs creaked under his feet as he descended, slowly, cautiously. The sound of the dragging grew louder, closer, and yet, there was no one there. The house seemed to breathe around him, the walls closing in, pulling him toward the darkness below.
It was the smell that hit him first. A sharp, sour stench that clung to the walls and burned his throat. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, but his feet kept moving, dragging him down the stairs, against his will. The further he went, the worse the smell became, suffocating him. It was a rotting smell, like something had died in the walls and had never been found.
And then he saw it.
It was a figure, curled up in the corner of the basement. It was still, motionless, but there was something about it—something wrong. Liam stepped closer, and the thing's shape began to blur, as if the darkness itself was consuming it. His stomach twisted. It wasn't a person. It was something else. Something alive.
The thing let out a low groan, and Liam felt the floor under his feet give way again, this time in a deep, rumbling shake. The walls seemed to close in on him, the ceiling lowering, the floor sinking. He stumbled, barely catching himself on the railing as the house seemed to stretch, to expand, to—no, pull him in. He could hear it now, the sound of the house breathing, the thudding noise coming from all directions.
Something wet touched his ankle. He froze, looking down to see the floor—no, the house itself—moving. It was pulling at his legs, dragging itself up his body. He tried to pull away, but it was too late.
The house wasn't just alive. It was hungry.
Liam screamed, but the sound was muffled, swallowed by the walls around him. He reached for the door, but the frame had warped, bent in a way that shouldn't have been possible. The floor buckled beneath him, splintering and cracking, and the walls closed in, moving like living things, crawling over him.
The house was devouring him.
He kicked, he screamed, he fought, but the walls grew tighter, the floors more uneven, and the ceiling began to crack as though the house itself was stretching out to take him in. His legs were pulled into the floor, his arms dragged to the walls, and still, it wasn't enough. The house opened itself up, swallowing him whole.
By the time the neighbors came to check, it was already too late.
There were no signs of a struggle, no evidence of anything unusual. Only the silence. The house sat there, still and waiting, as if nothing had ever happened. No trace of Liam remained.
The house had consumed him, taken him piece by piece, devoured him whole. But it didn't stop there.
When night fell and the air grew thick with the scent of dust and decay, the house would shift again, in its own slow, deliberate way. It had a new piece of itself now. A new part of its long, twisted existence. And though Liam had been consumed, the house would keep him. It would keep him in the walls, in the floorboards, in the very foundation of it. Just like it had kept his grandparents. Just like it had kept everyone before him.
And it would wait for the next person to walk through the door.
It always did.
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