The Devils House

8/14/2019 The Devils House

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The Devil’s House

I came here less than a week ago. I was called in, asked to come. It was a small

family, wife and husband, a geriatric golden retriever, and two teenagers. Their daughter

was a sixteen year-old with a brain, Kylie; Josh was a year younger, a bit athletic but he

had a greater love for the computer screen than for the track-field. I’d found this out over

the phone a few days earlier. When I got to the house, the kids were nowhere to be seen.

The only people there were the husband and wife.

Ambrose was the husband, the one who had called me up. He was in white t-shirt

and casual slacks, his face full of that gentle quality most men don’t have. His wife, a

pretty woman in her mid-forties named Jill, was in a summer dress. She was slim

without being skinny, her face gently lined with age. Ambrose extended his hand first in

greeting as their dog ran up to me and started sniffing my crotch.

A good thing I like dogs.

“Good to meet you, finally, Mister Greene,” Ambrose said to me. He had a firm

grip on him. I pat the dog and guided its face away from my privates and into my thigh.

“Friendly pup. What’s its name?”

“Bill,” he said. Then he motioned to his wife. “This is Jill.”

I didn’t stop petting the dog as she offered me her hand. I took it. Her handshake

was also quite firm, and I must admit that I was impressed. “How do you do?”

“I’m quite fine, thank you,” I said to her. “Now, if you don’t mind me asking,

what’s the trouble, exactly?”

Pirri—1



I was hoping we’d end up in the house, it was a warm day out and my suit wasn’t

doing me any favours, but there was no offer. Ambrose did, however, excuse himself

briefly to get us some drinks as Jill led me through the open yard to the back of the house.

They had a nice, sturdy, plastic table sitting there, a colourful umbrella sticking through

its middle. The chairs were also plastic, but cushioned. “Please, sit down, he’ll be back

in a moment.”

She was right. Ambrose came back shortly with a tray and three tall glasses of

lemonade. I took one thankfully and sipped it carefully. “You wouldn’t say much over

the phone,” I said, putting the drink down and removing my jacket. “What’s the problem?”

“It’s the house,” he said after a moment. “We seem to be hearing things.”

“What sort of things?”

“Creaking,” he said. “Floorboards and the likes. Sometimes it sounds like the

cutlery in the kitchen is rattling. Footsteps. And voices.”

So maybe it wasn’t just the house settling. “Voices?” I tried to keep the

incredulity from my voice, but failed miserably.

“It happens mainly at night,” Jill said. “Most of the stuff does, anyway.”

I nodded, made a mental note. “I see.” I took another sip of the lemonade and

thought for a moment. “What do you think?”

They gave each other uneasy glances. “Well, we’d figured that maybe the house

was haunted,” the husband began.

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” the wife finished, a little bit too quickly. “I

mean, ghosts and ghouls and the likes. They’re not real.” She had a nervous smile on her

Pirri—2



face, and I had the feeling that she didn’t entirely believe what she was saying. Or, at

least, that she had at one point, but, events being what they were, had changed her mind.

I shook my head. “No, ma’am, they’re not.” Another sip of the lemonade. Sweat

held the shirt to my back and underarms; I’d have to change when I got back to the hotel.

“And that’s why you’ve called me in, is it?”

Ambrose nodded. “We’ve read your articles. You’re very good.”

“Thank you. I take pride in my work.” I gave them a reassuring smile. “These

things, they’re all in the mind, you see. All we have to do is figure out what’s bothering

you all, and we’ll have it.”Jill smiled sweetly at me. “Oh, there’s nothing bothering us, really.”

I shook my head, a wry smile on my face. “I doubt it. Sometimes these things

are subconscious. There’s something eating at you, mark me, you just don’t know it yet.”

She was about to speak again, but I talked over her. “I’ve seen it before, trust me. Some

people are just afraid to dig deep enough to figure it out. You never know what demons

lurk under the skin, after all.” I finished my lemonade and stood up. “When could I

speak with your kids?”

“Tomorrow,” the wife said.

“Won’t you stay?” Ambrose asked as I picked up my jacket. “It happens at night,

every night. I’m sure if you could be around when things start to go weird you’d be able

to help much more.”

I’ll admit, I had been hoping for that invitation, but I hadn’t been expecting it

quite so early. “Tomorrow night,” I told him. “Tonight, I plan on staying at the hotel,

Pirri—3



sort through a few things.” I paused. I needed some background information on these

people, and they more than likely wouldn’t give me any. “Are you religious at all?”

“We attend services most Sundays at the Saint Andrew’s Church,” Ambrose

answered. “Why?”

“Just curious.” I nodded to them. “I’ll drop by again tomorrow. Just have to do

some fact-checking.”

“Thank you for coming so soon,” Ambrose said.

“Not at all. Thanks for the lemonade.” And with that I turned my back and left.

* * *After a quick visit to my hotel room, I made a few queries at the front desk and

made my way down to the church. It was an old place, at least forty years, with gothic

arches and stained glass windows, and even a sort of steeple. It was nice, I was

impressed. I didn’t go into the church itself, but the small residence right beside it. I

knocked on the door and it was promptly opened by a middle-aged man with a white

collar.

“Father Roary?”

“Yes, who wants to know?”

“I’m Burt Greene. May I come in, please?”

He blinked. Small jowls hung from his cheeks and the lines of age covered his

face. His eyes were clear, though, and they shone with recognition when I mentioned my

name. “Greene,” he said, letting me through the doorway. “Burt Greene? The

psychologist?”

I smiled at him. “That’s right.” I took off my hat.

Pirri—4



“I’ve read a couple of your articles. They’re interesting. I don’t agree with them,

but they’re interesting all the same.” He closed the door and led me to the kitchen. He

motioned to a seat. “What can I do for you?” he asked as he sat down across from me.

“I’m in town on behalf of the Bistro family,” I told him. “They wanted me to

investigate some disturbances.” His face paled so slightly that it was almost impossible

to notice. “I was hoping you could help me out on some details.”

“Such as?”

“History.” I leaned back. “I’ve been on cases like this before, odd noises, people

think the house is possessed. More often than not it’s a manifestation of whatever in their lives that’s bothering them. Only I doubt I’ll get any details out of the Bistros. They’re

very closed, at least Jill is.”

“If it’ll help, then I’ll tell you what I can.”

I nodded. “Ambrose told me over the phone that they moved into the house little

over a month ago. Why’d they move there?”

“To begin everything anew.” He glanced at the cabinet. “Would you like a drink,

sir? Coffee, beer, iced tea?”

“Nothing, thank you,” I said, shaking my head. “How do you mean, ‘to begin

anew’?”

The priest folded his hands in front of him. “They were having problems,” he

said. “The whole family. Good people, but the family wasn’t going well. Their son was

suffering from depression; their daughter wasn’t putting any effort into her school work,

was staying out until all hours of the morning, wasn’t communicating at all.” He fingered

a ring on his left middle finger. “Jill and Ambrose, they weren’t helping things any.

Pirri—5



They’d taken an adversarial approach to the problem, and that only made things worse.”

The priest stood and took a glass from the cupboard and opened the fridge. “They came

to me after a few months,” he said, pouring himself a glass of water from the filter.

“Asked for my advice. I told them exactly what they had to do. Seek therapy.” He sat

back down.

“And did they?”

He nodded. “That was a year and a half ago. It took a while to heal the rifts

they’d made, but I think they did it. They still go to their doctor a couple of times a

month. I don’t suppose you’d like his name?”I shook my head. “Patient doctor confidentiality. I wouldn’t get a thing out of

him. Anyway, it shouldn’t be important. So they’ve had problems, and they moved into

this house to start their lives over again, is that it?”

“It is, yes.” He took a sip from his glass and stared into it.

“Are they a religious family?”

“They attend services, but I don’t think that’s what you’re asking me.” Another

sip from the glass. “They believe. They believe in God, in heaven, hell, in the Bible.

They come to my services every week or two.”

“How about ghosts and goblins?”

“No, not that I know of.”

I only nodded to myself. That didn’t surprise me any. They’d only tell their

pastor so much. I smiled at him. “Thanks for your time.” I stood and made my way to

the front door.

Pirri—6



“Before you go,” he said from the kitchen, my hand on the doorknob, “there’s

something you should probably know.”

I turned around. “What about?”

“The house.”

“I’m listening.”

“It has a bit of a history.” He stood, glass of water in hand, and walked up to me.

“Fifty years ago, there was an exorcism. It was a very big deal, we couldn’t keep it quiet.

It was in the papers. You might find out more about it if you searched the library

archives.”“I’d rather hear it from you.” I pulled my hand from the doorknob. “What’s the

story?”

He shrugged. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.” Roary paused, gave me a

knowing, sidelong glance. “You don’t believe in the supernatural, after all.”

I gave him a smile. “In cases like this, what I believe doesn’t count. It’s what

others believe that’s at issue.” I leaned against the door. “Did they know about the

exorcism?”

“Yes. I told them. They were buying the house, they deserved to know.”

“And what about the exorcism?”

He shook his head and told me what I’d expected to hear. That the church very

rarely performs exorcisms, and that the one at the house was the only one of two or three

he’d heard of happening. I wanted details, and he gave them to me. “The family was

terrorized,” he said. “They didn’t know what was going on. They claimed to be hearing

voices, claimed that they were being told in their sleep to do horrible things to each other.

Pirri—7



The son said he was being haunted by a red-eyed man in a suit, being told to rape his

sister and kill his mother. He came within inches of raping his sister before his father

walked in. Said the boy’s eyes were red and he was crying blood. They were able to pull

him off of her, but just barely. Crucifixes were melting. The daughter attempted suicide.

They came to the Church for help, and we investigated, decided that it was a case for an

exorcism, and performed one.”

“I see.” I didn’t believe the entire story, of course, but he certainly did.

“There is evil in the world, Mister Greene,” he said to me. “Whether you choose

to acknowledge it or not, there is.”The smile I gave him was meant to be reassuring, though I don’t know if it did its

job. “I acknowledge that there’s evil,” I said. “What I don’t accredit is the existence of

some evil force. The Devil is just a man’s excuse to do horrible things. It’s a way of

avoiding responsibility.” I cocked my head. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“Of course.”

“I think that the Bistros haven’t gotten over their family problems nearly as much

as they’d like to believe, and this is manifesting itself in the form of a haunted house. It’s

being manifested as such because they know the history behind it.”

The priest lifted his finger. “That’s where you’re partly wrong, Mister Greene.

They only know that an exorcism was performed there. I’ve told them nothing else.”

“But the details are available in the local library you said? And they know this?”

He nodded. “Then it’s not much to assume that they know everything.” I shook his

hand. “I’d like to thank you for your help, though. It’s very much appreciated.”

“Not at all.” He cocked his head. “Good luck, Mister Greene. And take care.”

Pirri—8



“I’ll do so. Thank you.” I left the house, put my hat on my head, and went to my

car. I was tired, and my motel room had a bed.

* * *

I woke up that night to the phone ringing. I woke up groggily and eventually

found the receiver. “Hello?” I said, sleep still in my voice. Nothing. “Hello?” I waited,

strained to hear some signs of life from the other end of the line. “Who is this?” The line

clicked then, and a dial-tone sounded. I put the receiver back in its place and checked the

time.

One-thirty.* * *

I had breakfast in a quaint little café at mid-morning then made my way to the

Bistro house. My knock at their door was answered rather quickly by a very disheveled

Jill. “You’re here, thank God,” she said, ushering me through the doorway.

“I was hoping to ask you and Ambrose some questions. What’s wrong?”

She led me up the rickety, wooden stairs. “Something happened last night, but we

can’t get it out of her. She won’t speak, she just cradles herself.”

“Your daughter?”

“Who else?” She turned to face me as she said this, and her expression was

vicious. It softened as she realized it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”

“That’s okay, it was a foolish question.”

We turned the corner to her daughter’s bedroom, a small one with room for the

bed and a dresser. The bed was pressed up against a corner, as was Kylie. The girl was

still in her nightgown, huddled against the wall with her knees up against her chest. Tears

Pirri—9



streaked her cheeks, and she looked too scared to close her eyes and too frightened to

want to see with them. I’d seen it before, but only in a few rare cases, and even then

never this bad. I wanted to talk to her, but I needed a bit more information from the

parents first. I pulled Jill out into the hallway. “I know you know,” I said to her, “but do

your kids?”

She blinked at me. “What do you mean?”

I led her back to the stairway and looked around. The daughter wouldn’t hear us,

she was too far into shock, but I wanted to make sure the son wasn’t close by either. “I

know about the house,” I told her. “I talked to your priest. He told me everything. NowI need to know, did you tell the kids?”

Her face went from surprise to offense to chagrin all in one smooth motion. “No.

No, we never told them.”

I nodded. “Could they have overheard you and your husband discussing it?”

There was a hesitant pause, and she licked her lips. “Maybe. I mean, I don’t

know, but it’s not impossible.”

“Is it plausible?”

Another long pause. “I suppose so.”

I nodded. “I’m going to go and talk to her.”

“She won’t speak.”

“I didn’t say she would. I said I was going to talk to her. The conversation might

very well be one-sided, and I’m fine with that.” I patted her on the shoulder and walked

to the girl’s room. At the doorway I turned my head slightly. “I’m going to want to have

a word with you and Ambrose afterwards.”

Pirri—10



Jill had her arms wrapped around herself, and her head bowed. “Okay. We’ll be

in the den.” She walked down the stairs, leaving me with her daughter.

I walked into the room and sat on the bed. She didn’t move, didn’t even flinch.

“You mind telling me what happened?” Nothing. “I didn’t think so.” I moved a hand to

touch her face and she grabbed my forearm. I grunted. “Strong grip you have there.”

She tightened the grip, made it feel like she’d squeeze my arm clear off. “Now that you

have a hold of something real, mind telling me what happened?”

Her eyes drifted up to me. “He was here.”

“Who was?”“The man. He was here. He tried to tell me things, tried to do things to me.” She

spoke without emotion, without any kind of feeling. “I didn’t let him. He tried to open

my legs, but I didn’t let him.” Panic started to fill her voice. “But it hurt. He touched me

and it hurt.”

“Where did he touch you?”

She pulled her nightgown up and showed me her thigh. There were burn marks in

the form of handprints on it. I pulled her gown back down. “Do you remember what he

looked like?”

The girl shook her head violently. “Just the eyes,” she sobbed. “Red, red, red,

red…” She repeated it as her voice drifted off.

I left the room and went downstairs, tongue in my cheek and my brain working

hard. I found my way to the den and sat down in front of the husband and wife. “I need

to know, first of all, how much did you know about this place’s history?” Before they

could answer, I said, “And I know you know about it. This isn’t the time to withhold

Pirri—11



information because you’re embarrassed, or I don’t need to know. The fact remains, I do

need to know, because if I don’t then I can’t help you and I’ll leave tonight.” I leaned

back and let them talk.

Apparently, they knew very little. When you’ve done this for as long as I have,

you tend to learn how people lie. You can read it in their voice, see it in their eyes, in

how they move, how they breathe. The bigger the lie, the easier it is. These people

weren’t lying. I knew much more than they did about this. Their children had probably

overheard them discussing it one night. I nodded. It was entirely plausible that Kylie had

looked up the story in the library’s archives. I’d have to check them.I stood. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” I told them. “There are a few things I need

to look into. I’ll come back, and I’ll have my things with me. I’ll stay here from here on

in.”

“Thank you,” Ambrose said.

I made it to the door when a question popped into my head. “You say she started

screaming at one point,” I said over my shoulder. “When was this?”

Jill spoke. “No later than one thirty.”

For the first time in a decade, I felt my hackles rise.

* * *

The library had proved to be a useless resource. The archives had had

information on the house, for certain, but nothing detailed, nothing like what the priest

had inferred. I had even asked some people around town, some of the older residents,

and even they only knew the basics: the house had been haunted by demons, and the

Church had ordered an exorcism. Nothing more.

Pirri—12



My foot was light on the gas as I made my way back to the Bistro house, and my

mind was working as hard as it could. Coincidence was all I could use to tie together that

strange phone call and the girl’s episode. I don’t like coincidences, I much prefer logical

strings of facts that connect to each other, but when all other explanations reek of fantasy,

coincidence is all I’ve got to go on.

I pulled into their driveway and was about to get out of the car when something

flashed in my rearview mirror. I glanced back but saw nothing. I shook my head and

stepped onto the gravel. My head was playing tricks on me. Maybe the job was finally

getting to me. Maybe I needed to try something new. Or I just needed a vacation.I pulled my things from the backseat and walked up to the house, noticing quickly

that their car was missing. The sun was setting, casting a reddish hue onto the house, and

as I entered it I noticed a lack of noise that wasn’t quite silence. “Hello?” I called,

making my way to the den.

No one was there, though a glass of whisky had been poured. A note was beside

it. “Gone out for the evening, help yourself to whatever you need. Your bed’s been

made.” I arched my eyebrow and sipped the liquor. Okay, then. The glass in hand, I

took my things upstairs and found my room. After another taste of the whisky I began to

unpack a few things. I went slowly and deliberately, trying to ignore the odd feeling of

somebody watching me.

I heard a car pull into the driveway at around dusk but didn’t bother to look

outside. It was them, no doubt. A few minutes later and they were coming into the

house; one person came up the stairs. Ambrose soon stood in the doorway. “Sorry we

were out,” he said.

Pirri—13



“No worries. You really shouldn’t leave your front door open like that, though.”

“I know. I just wanted you to be able to get in without needing to wait for us.”

I reached to the dresser and handed him the whisky glass. “Thanks for the drink.”

I opened a closet and hung a few shirts up. “I’d like to talk with you all, discuss a few

things, but I’m rather tired. It’s been a long day.”

A nod. “We’ve been out for most of the afternoon anyway, so we’re mostly tired

as well. Kylie wanted to leave the house for a while.”

“Good to know she snapped out of it.” I nodded at him. “Now, if you’ll excuse

me, I think I’ll wash up before bed.”“By all means.” He let me by, and I went to the washroom to wash my face,

brush my teeth. On the way I passed by the girl’s room and caught a look at her face.

She was pale, with bags under her eyes that could have carried luggage. I shook my head

as I continued back down the hall. Those burn marks on her legs, I had no doubt they

were caused by her body’s reaction to some extreme mental stimulation, a hallucination

or a dream, that it perceived as real.

I was deep in my thoughts when I came across Josh for the first time. He stood in

front of the washroom, which was right next to his room at the end of the hallway. The

kid nodded at me.

“So,” he said, arms crossed over his chest, “you’re the psychologist who’s

supposed to help solve our problems, eh?”

“That’s right. You must be Josh.” He was a handsome kid, though he also looked

rather tired, as though he’d gotten only a few hours of sleep in the past week.

Pirri—14



“I must be.” He looked me up and down. “Do you want to know what’s wrong?

Because I’ll tell you.”

“Sure thing.”

“This place is haunted, and it wants us all dead. It told me so, in my dreams. You

think I’m crazy, I know my parents do, but that’s the truth. Kylie, she saw the devil this

morning. I told my parents we should leave, but they think it’s all in our heads. Is that

what you think, Mister…?”

“Greene, son. Mister Greene. And, yes, that’s what I think. I’m sure you’ll see it

that way, too, in a short time.”He shook his head. “No, I won’t,” he said calmly. “We’ll all be dead before

then.” He went to his room and gently closed his door. “They told me so,” he quietly

said over his shoulder as the door clicked shut.

* * *

I woke up to screaming. But by the time I had sat up the screaming had ended,

faded like a dream. I put my head back down but thought I could feel breathing on the

back of my neck. Just my mind playing tricks on me, I told myself. Nothing more.

Didn’t stop the hairs on my neck from standing straight up, though.

I woke up again an hour later by nothing more than a need to use the washroom. I

went in, pissed, and washed my hands. I thought I could hear whispering. I turned off

the faucet, wiped my hands, stepped out into the hall and listened. Still whispering, but it

didn’t seem to be coming from any set direction. Maybe my work finally had caught up

with me. This would be my last case, I told myself.

Pirri—15



What scared me, though, wasn’t the unintelligible whispering or the breathing on

my neck, but the fact that when I walked past Kylie’s room, I heard a whisper in my ear.

“Rape her.” I looked beside me but saw no one. A shiver scurried up my back and into

the hairs on my neck.

Back to bed.

* * *

The next day I spoke individually with each person. I asked them about their

experiences in this house, their dreams and everything. Whispering voices kept coming

into play, odd noises, frightening dreams, and a man in a black suit. I asked about thisman; sometimes he was a silent observer, others he would urge them to perform horrific

acts onto themselves or each other, while others still he was the one performing the acts.

It was an interesting manifestation of their collective problems, and a group hallucination

like this was not unheard of. I spoke to each of them at length, during different parts of

the day.

Night came.

They let the dog out after dinner. The dog never came back. Ambrose left the

house to look for Bill. Nothing. “He’s probably just run off for the night,” I said. “He

can sense things are stressed right now. Animals are keen like that. He’ll be back by

morning.”

I didn’t entirely believe my own words.

That night was haunted by odd dreams. Fire and darkness were the only images I

could remember. That and whispers. I woke up countless times, always in a light sheen

of sweat. I felt like I was going crazy.

Pirri—16



That morning I woke to hear Jill scream. I walked calmly to the top of the stairs

and saw Ambrose against the bottom step, his face pale and shocked. Jill stood at the

door, her face aghast. Curious, I walked down the steps and looked at what had

frightened them.

The dog was dead, shredded. It was barely recognizable as a dog, and the only

reason I knew it to be Bill was because of the name on the collar.

“Probably just a wild animal did this,” I said. I didn’t believe it. No wild animal

would do this then purposefully display it on the front step.

I waited until afternoon to start my conversations again. This time we talked as agroup. Ambrose barely said anything, the dog had been his best friend for years

apparently, but the other three were able to open up. Unfortunately, most of the

conversation came down to how great a pet the dog had been, how loyal. They needed to

talk about it, of course, but I had wanted to get into more of their filial problems than the

discussion of a more-than-recently dead pet.

Ambrose buried the dog’s body shortly before dark.

Before I went to bed, the daughter came to me. “Thank you for trying to help,”

she said. “But you’re not what we need.”

“What do you need, child?”

Her eyes were sad. I felt a pang of guilt when she answered my question. “An

exorcist.” She bid me goodnight and went to her room.

* * *

My sleep was interrupted by a scream, high and shrill. I shot out of bed as the

scream stopped abruptly, ending in a gurgle. We all reached Kylie’s room at the same

Pirri—17



time, so we all saw the same thing. Her body was covered in blood, her eyes staring

unseeing up to the ceiling. Her legs were spread and she was bleeding from between

them. A cut stretched from between her clavicle down to her pelvis, her belly sliced open

and on display.

I threw up on the spot. Jill screamed without any sign of stopping. Ambrose only

backed away, muttering prayers under his breath. Josh nodded knowingly. “I warned

you,” he whispered.

“I’m going to call the police,” the father said, his voice hoarse. “The police. I’m

going to call the police.”“No, you won’t,” the boy said calmly. “You know you won’t. You can’t.”

I looked into the room again, trying to ignore the bloody mess that had once been

their daughter, and looked around. I wanted to see a knife, or blood being tracked to the

window, but the only tracks of blood stopped abruptly at the doorway. I licked my lips.

The window was closed, I could see that from where I stood, and I wasn’t going to

venture any further into that room.

Ambrose stood up and towered over his son. “I’ll call the police. They’ll know

what to do.”

“And what’ll you say?” Josh said, his voice threatening, his eyes lifeless. “That

Kylie was killed by the devil? That he raped her and eviscerated her?” He shook his

head. “Go ahead. Call them. They’ll come here to find five dead bodies.” His eyes fell

on me at that point. “I’m sorry, Mister Greene, that you had to be here. I can’t save you.

No one can. Make peace with yourself before the night is done.” With that he returned

to his room.

Pirri—18



I looked to Ambrose. He was shaking his head, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I’ll call the police.”

“That’s a good idea,” I told him with a nod.

“I’ll call the police.” He kept muttering it to himself as he made his way

unsteadily to his bedroom.

Jill had stopped her scream by then. All she did was sob. I closed the door and

left her there as I walked to Josh’s room. It was laid out very much like his sister’s, and

he sat on the bed, a rosary in his hands. He might have been praying, I wasn’t sure.

“Hello, Josh,” I said.“Hello, Mister Greene.”

“Would you mind telling me what’s going on?”

His smile was small and sad. “You know.” There was a knowledge to the light in

his eyes that spooked me. “You don’t let yourself believe, but you know.” The teenager

went back to his rosary.

“What do you know? And how?”

He looked up at me. “I told you, Mister Greene: I dream. They come to me then.

They tear me apart; they tell me what they want. I can’t sleep, but I can see. No one

would listen to me when I told them we should leave. Now it’s too late.” His gaze

drifted to the rosary. “We’re all lost. They won’t let you leave. Tonight was the night

they’d kill us, starting with Kylie. They’d planned it since we first moved here. Father

will be next. They’ll gut him while he’s dialing the phone. Mother will see it, she’ll see

the demons slicing him open, and she’ll lose her mind. She’ll jump from the bedroom

window. Then they’ll come for me. I don’t know what they’ll do to me, they never said,

Pirri—19



but I can imagine it will be worse than what they do in my dreams.” With a sigh the boy

looked up at me. “I don’t know about what they’ll do to you. Just do yourself a favour:

When you hear the screaming, Mister Greene, don’t leave your room. Light some

candles. And pray. If the candles don’t go out before morning, maybe you can get away.

But if their light fades before the sun rises, then it’s too late for you. Just as it’s too late

for us.”

With that he returned to his rosary.

I went out into the hallway and looked around. His mother wasn’t where I had

left her, and I didn’t want to know where the father was. There was an odd smell comingfrom the girl’s room, like after-sex and a bonfire. I could hear noises coming from there,

inhuman growls and moans.

I went to my room and closed the door.

* * *

I heard the father’s gurgle two hours ago, his wife’s shrill shriek shortly thereafter.

Josh… he took a long time to die. Ten minutes, twenty minutes maybe? His cries were

loud, drawn-out, horrible screams of pain and torture. I had never heard anything like

that in my life.

Not once did I leave my room. Not once did I open the door. I found the candles

easily enough, hidden deep in the closet and lit one when the lights began to flicker.

Shortly afterwards the lights went out, and all that was left were my three candles. I lit

only one at a time. They burned slowly, but I could feel something in the room with me,

waiting for the candles to burn out. I never looked around, only stared directly at the

flame. It’s been like a game, really, the waiting. That’s the only reason I can think of that

Pirri—20



they never tried to put the candles out themselves. They want to see if I can survive the

night.

I can’t.

It’s an hour before dawn. The last candle’s almost burned down to its end. It

flickers every once in a while. I can feel breath on the back of my neck, and I know who

it is. I don’t look back. I don’t want the last thing I see with any sort of lucidity to be a

tall man in a dark suit, with eyes the colour of blood. I don’t want to see those eyes.

Tears fall down my cheeks as the candle sputters in its final moments. The breath

on the back of my neck is vivid and warm. I give my first prayer in decades to a God Inever truly believed in until now. I hope it’s enough. I doubt it is, but I hope.

The candle goes out.

God help me.

Pirri—21

The Devils House

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Transcript of The Devils House