31 Day Horror House (First 3 Days)

A little before the beginning of October, my friend Bogleech on Tumblr posted his own version of Inktober, the "31 Day Horror House". I tried my hand at it, but after the first three days I realized that I wouldn't be able to keep it up all month long, partly because I wasn't sure where I was going with it, and mostly because I had a few other art projects still in the works, so I stopped here.

I wrote a story for each one on my Tumblr page, but here's the full story for each picture:

Part 1: a wild, feral monster that stalks the surrounding woods

This  was supposed to be a simple trip. You had wanted to visit the house  where you were born- maybe for sentimental reasons, maybe to sate your mid-life crisis, but either way you got in your car and took off. You  moved out of there when you were only five years old- you barely remember the place. And now here you are in the dead of night on some  backwater forest road, brushing the remains of your windshield off your jacket.

You’re shaken, but you’re not hurt. The same can’t be said for your car, now stuck in a ditch and unable to start. To top it all off, you can’t even get a signal out here. Figures.

You  look ahead to see what was blocking the road- two telephone poles were down, live wires sparking on the asphalt. No doubt that was what set off the fire that is now slowly consuming the surrounding vegetation.

But  that wasn’t what made you swerve into that ditch. Those poles weren’t even down until just now. It had been a deer standing in the road.  Normally it wouldn’t have been the first time you’ve nearly hit a deer,  but normally you could catch the glint of their eyes in your headlights  before you hit them. There were no eyes to be seen here.

You  blink. The… deer? is gone now. Only flames and electrical hazards remain now. You suddenly recall passing a house on a hill some ways  back. Perhaps they have a phone you can use…

Part 2: the gatekeeper of the weird old mansion you’ve found

You  must have passed that house you saw at least an hour ago, yet it hardly  took you any time to walk there. Walking down the dirt road your path  is blocked again by a set of massive iron gates, flanked on both sides  by a cyclopean stone wall that stretch into the darkness of the  surrounding woods. The gates are shackled together by a chain far  thicker than necessary, secured with a padlock the size of your head.  Still, there are lights up ahead- someone must be home.

You  immediately look for an intercom or a doorbell of some kind. Instead,  you find an alcove built into the wall next to the gates. Sitting within  is an enormous, yellowed cow skull, clutching a heavy iron key in its  jaws. The sight of the skull seems strange to you, but what’s even  stranger is how the alcove seems to stretch much farther back into the  wall than it probably should.

Wrenching your eyes from  peering too deeply into that void, you grab the key from the cow skull’s  mouth and shove it in the lock. The iron gates swing open slowly but  easily. Almost welcoming in a strange way, like a long-lost friend  greeting you with open arms.

As you walk through the gates  down the gravel path, you’re stopped cold in your tracks when you  suddenly hear a voice behind you. It was soft and sharp, like someone  striking flint behind your ears:

“Tssk tssk.”

You  turn around, not to confront the mystery voice (there was nobody there  anyway), but upon the realization of your error- you had left the key in  the lock. Gently pulling the key from its hole, you carefully place it  back in the cow skull’s mouth, just the way you found it. For a moment  you expect to say “thank you”, but you quickly snuff that ridiculous  idea and start running towards the mansion. Hopefully whoever lived  there would forgive your sudden intrusion at this hour.

Then again, if they lock the door but leave the key out anyway, how unwelcoming could they possibly be?

Part 3: the butler/housekeeper who guides you around the house  

Unlike the walk from your car to the front gate, the  walk up the path to the house was far longer than it should have been.  You’re absolutely exhausted by the time you reach the mansion, to the  point where you need to catch your breath before you can even ring the  doorbell. But that proves unnecessary as the door immediately swings  open and someone steps out.

She’s humanoid at the least,  but she’s not human- no human could possibly live with what appears to  be freshly-flayed skin, and humans certainly don’t have that many thin,  flat-edged teeth. Yet for some reason, the first thing that bothers you  is how her yellow rubber gloves clash with her otherwise authentic-looking 18th-century maid garb.

Grinning as if  she would be shot if she didn’t, the maid reaches out and takes your  hand in her grasp, the warm, wet blood sticking to your palm. You’re far  too tired to resist as she yanks you off your feet and drags you into  the blinding light of the foyer. Before you pass out, the last thing you hear is her voice, raspy and gurgling as if choking on a mouthful of blood.

“Your timing couldn’t be more perfect, darling- I just put the kettle on!”