Hi, my lovelies,
I just wanted to share a small story I wrote. I'm sorry if it sucks, I am not good at spelling and staying in the right tense. But I hope you enjoy.
I stand in front of the house, the faint smell of garlic and spices coming from inside the crimson door. The house smells good. Almost too good. I reach up to knock on the door but it swings open before my hand even touches the wood.
“It's lovely to see you, come in.” The man, Damian, speaks with a soft and smooth tone. Almost as if it was silk, I blink a few times and I lower my hand. He steps aside and gestures for me to come in. “I hope the journey wasn't too hard, it is quite snowy out there.”
"It's great to see you too." I hum as I tread into his house, glancing around at the layout. Once I step inside the smell of warm butter, lemon and something herbal fill my senses. Comforting. The kind of smell that makes you lower your guard without realising it. He smiled as he takes my coat, his movements careful, rehearsed.
"The snow wasn't a problem, I took cab anyway… Your house is quite beautiful, you know." I mumble as I slip off my shoes and I watch as he walks toward to what I think is the living room. I hesitate for a moment then I follow him, the plush brown carpet under my feet looks a little worn out, as if others have walked the same path many times.
"I am glad you like it. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes,” he said. “Make yourself at home.” That was the first thing that felt wrong. He leads me to the living room then walks into the kitchen. Before I could follow him he locks the door. I walk over to one of the couches and I sit down, running my hand across the fabric. I look up in front of me, I notice a fireplace then I see a head of a deer right above it. I swallow. Hard. Apart from the fact that the living room was neat to the point of being staged.
Just furniture arranged perfectly. Everything else is normal.
I decide to wander, convincing myself its okay since he said make yourself at home. I tip toe down the hallway, gliding my hand across the wall. Most doors were open, the bathroom, spare room, office. Then, at the end, a door that is closed.
I test the handle. Nothing. My heartbeat thudded in my ears. I tell myself I am being silly. People lock doors for normal reasons. Storage. Privacy. Secrets that aren’t my business. But I’m noisy, so I push on the door and after 3 tries the lock gives in. A cold breeze passes over my body. A single bulb flickers above a large fridge humming against the far wall.
Just the fridge, plugged in, alone. I step closer, my hand moving on its own as it comes to rest on the handle. The cold seeping into my skin. Somewhere behind me, a pan sizzles.
“Céleste?” Damian called from the kitchen. “You okay?”
Something slid forward and hit the floor with a dull sound. I freeze in place and I force my eyes down. I attempt to keep my expression neutral but I can’t help at gagging and stepping back. I tense up as I bump into a solid warm body behind me.
“sigh. You really have to butt your head into things, don’t you? I was starting to really like you, you know?” Damian mumbles as he walks past me and picks up the severed hand from the foot of the fridge. “You could have made this go bad, you shouldn't drop food.” He stares at me for a minute before watching me step back and run.
I quickly bolt to the front door, not bothering to grab my things or put on my shoes. The plush carpet now feeling stiff under my feet, I open the door and sprint out into the snow. “Help, please!” I shout, running while trying to keep myself from slipping on the ice. Until something hits me on the head making me fall face first into the snow.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Running from your host is not polite. Come back inside, dinner is ready, I made scallops.” He grabs my ankles and drags me back into the house. Just before I come to my senses ready to scream.
Snow flutters down, slowly covering the land in a perfect blanket. People walking their dogs pass, blissfully unaware of anything going on. Though, a few dogs stop and stare at the crimson door, their owners just usher them to keep walking. The smell of basil and butter drifts from the house, unexpecting and innocent.
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