Just as it has happened ages past, the red sun rose over the boundaries of Richard’s farmland. He stood out on his porch, watching the phenomenon, the gases from the swamp surrounding his home reacting to something in the air and causing the sun to come up and cast this red cloth over the sun, the rays running though it like swords, casting there bloody tidings amongst the trees, flowers and even against the fading light blue of his house. Instead of the colors mixing together, turning purple, the red from the sun tainted the pale blue house a molted shade of gray, the bare
patches of white that had shown though were turned into dieing red gashes on blood, seeming to drip down the siding onto the ground where even it seemed to fester, turning to a pale dust like everything else had.
The farm hadn’t always been like this, it had produced a fine living for his grandparents, and there parents before his, and there parents before there’s and all the way back to when the house was first built. But when his fathers’ hands had touched the land, it began to rot from the roots up and he ground down. Nothing, from life sustaining grass for neither cattle, nor even the most hellish of weeds that would take house to pull up from the ground would grow. Dust was the only thing that reigned here. Even the house had started to rot.
When Richard’s mother was growing up, there wasn’t a bog for eighty miles around, but now it somehow oozed up though the dying land its self and surrounded the quaint little farm. With no escape left, Richard was backed into either trying to sell the place or trying to find working from anyone and living with... in the farm that lay with his family for generations. Seeing as no one was particularly interested in an area surrounded by bog and rumored to be haunted not by one or two, but three disgruntled spirits, Richard was seemingly stuck with trying to find someone in the nearby town who didn't believe he was cursed and would hopefully hire him.
Luckily, and in Richards' favor, occasionally some tourists and even a few phenomenon fanatics, whom the locals called Idiots, would come by and beg to see the ghosts or sometimes spend the night at the old farm. Richard gleefully accepted each offer, deducting a small fee for either coming in or staying over, occasionally selling some of the worn down furnishings for prices bridging unreasonable. But it was how he had made his living for the few years on his farm.
At first, Richard was weary of allowing people to stay in his home, but most had such reverence and zealous attitudes that he was somewhat afraid to turn them down. Yet as the years past, less and less people came as the freak incidences started to dwindle down to a few moving trees and a chair or two tossed against the wall. Many believed that because Richard was taking care of the farm, the spirits that possessed it were being driven back to there grave. Richard however knew this was untrue, though there was little going on physically in his home, each morning was a new battle for his sanity.
He began to come out less and less, finding his own way of making money so he would never have to sell his farm. Those who saw him years later as he slid like a ghost from window to window saw almost nothing but his eyes looking out at them, gazing through there flesh into there soul. Richard had grown from the handsome young man everyone had known from his kindness or the infamy brought about by his family and home, into something dark, unknown.
His skin is now stretched tight over his bones, as if from undernourishment rough patches of scaly skin are spread over his body. His eyes seemed to have doubled in size, a dark emerald iris stood out in contrast to the stark white of his eyes. Yet the white of his eyes was nothing compared to the almost translucent tone of his flesh. The few the visited him brought him food and news of the outside, though he never seemed to want to hear it, they left thankfully, having only tried to bring up conversation in a plight way, none ever actually wanting to say and talk with that ghoul like figure.
One day, Richard had just stopped coming to the door. No matter how hard or how long anyone would knock, he never came to the door, nor would he ever again. The day they had discovered his body outside clutching something to his chest, his skin seemingly more translucent in the fading light, was the day that all of the strange things started happening again, and it was as if the bog its self realized that the owner of the house had finally perished, that it oozed from the ground once again, this time swallowing the land adjacent to the quaint little house.
Clearing her throat Amber spoke up again, “and to this old farm we go. We're going to prove that the farm is possessed by the spirit's of Richard and his father waging a battle over the farm. One fighting to save it and the other wanting to drag it down to hell --- ”
“Wooo,” howled Danni as she turned the camera toward her and wiggled her fingers by her ears, “The ghost or Richards father will eat your soul” she ended the last word with a shriek in her voice, laughing afterwards.
“We all know why were actually going to this stupid little town, To see that god awful crush of yours. But anyways, i get to tag along and see this nice countryside and live in a bog infested house for a few days, so what do i have to complain about,” a touch of sarcasm graced the last few words as Danni stretch out like a cat in the back seat of the car. She gazed out the window as the dreary little town passed by at a frightening speed, but Danni was use to it. She had been ever since Amber started dragging her out on these so called “ghost hunts” that always seemed to end up being a cat or the wind moving something and freaking out a bunch of overly paranoid and pathetic bunch who were jumping when they saw there own shadow anyways.
Danni sighed and shifted her position, the sunlight being overpowered by bleak rain clouds. She glanced out the back of the car to see the town turning to the left as they continued down the now dirt road that lead to the “haunted house” that had caused a bog to overtake the town. Now they're complaining about there economy and how not many people come to there town and blah blah blah. All that mattered would be finding out if this town was haunted and if it could be saved, and if not, well then to bad for them. She chewed abstinently minded chewed on her ever dwindling fingernails she sat upright as the car came to a stop.
Expecting to be right by the front gate she was shocked to find Amber had just parked outside the bubbling bog. Danni crawled forward to the seat next to Amber and stared blankly ahead then patted her shoulder and shoved the door open on rotting hinges.
“So we're here . . . where's the roaming ghost's, floating chairs and well, this must be the 'Damned Bog' of the accursed family.”
“We'll only one was really cursed, or haven't you heard the story? Richard was the last owner, he was a good one too, but his fathers to claim for all this mess. He was caught stealing from some voodoo witch and she supposedly laid a curse on him, 'that he would be damed to sow his last penny into the earth left to him by his late wife, but nothing would ever come of it' or something along those lines.”
Danni snorted in disgust, she believed less in Voodoo curses then she did ghost, spirits and spooks. She shrugged and shook her head taking a step over the unnaturally bubbling muck and slowly traversed the pothole riddled ground toward the somewhat decent looking house.
“Well we might as well get this over, we only need to spend a few nights here to debunk this junk then be on our merry freaking way back to boring, and remind- Ahh!” With a sharp screech and a loud thump, Danni had managed to fall flat on her rump, her foot stuck in that awful much. Taking a deep breath and shutting her eyes in pain, she pulled her leg up from the small pile of bog water. “Now I've twisted my ankle, shi... Get over and help my up you lazy slug,” Danni groaned as Amber came over and helped her to her feet.
“Looks like were going to be here more then just a few days at the rate you heal. Oh, and i know just were to put you till your ankles better, why not Richard's room itself? Up in that attic?”
Feigning bravery Danni let out a triumphant laugh, breaking the stillness in the air more then there talking had. A lonely black raven shot up into the sky, “umm.. well at least its not up broken old attic stairs that lead to a creepy bug infested room that has tons and tons of spiders crawling everywhere and webs all down the ceilings. . . right?”
Amber and Danni inched toward the house, the bog seeming to close in around them. Alice glanced around in worry, the goo seeming to flow around rock and pebbles crawling closer, getting faster with each laboring step they took. Amber looked to Danni and say her scanning the ground as they stumbled forward.
“So, think its haunted now?” Amber made a laugh that sounded more forced then she meant for it to. They hurried up the few steps to the porch of the old house. As they had gotten closer they could see more cracks then you cold see from far away. The house began to seem more decrepit with each step. They made there way to the door and turned away, seeing how far behind them the creeping dark waters were. To there amazement, the landscape hadn't changed a bit, though the land seemed to swell softly as if getting ready to release the final flood, trapping them in the house. As it was, the land simply stayed as it was letting Danni and Amber clamor into the house, resting on a couch in what seemed like a living room.
Grinning, Danni once again gnawed at her fingernails again, staring in uncomprehending shock when she bit into her flesh and drew blood. As she watch it starting to swell and then slowly flow down her finger toward her palm and looked at Amber and smiled.
“I think it might be time we got to the attic.”
Once again they started to stumble toward the stairs, Amber supporting her friend as much as she could. They heard a swell from the ground outside, fearing it was ready to burst they hurried up the stairs as fast as they could, Danni crying out in pain as her twisted foot came down upon a step harder then she intended. They could hear another groan and the screamed, somehow knowing it was the ghost of Richards father taking the farm into the fiery pit of Hell its self. Then griped each other knowing this was the end of them.
Three seconds passed, then five more, another ten when buy and nothing happened. Amber began to laugh, an almost feverish laugh, that she couldn't control, Soon Danni joined in and both started to joke about how paranoid they have become and how foolish they were, there were no such things as ghosts. In unison they edged down the stairs again, the thump after thump of there heavy feet resounding in there ears like drum's to war.
Three steps down, both woman smiled at each other. Amber chuckled at there unsaid joke, vowing silently never to reveal what weakness had overcome them in this cursed house. As they raised there feet, touching the second to last step, an unearthly groan issued from below them, Danni's breath caught in her throat and Amber just stared in front of her, tears right on the verge of forming.
Both took one last breath as the floor gave way to the shattered basement beneath them.
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