Gianfranco Mancini’s Reviews > The Witching House > Status Update

“Come on. Come on.” She slapped her helmet and the light came back on, throwing a spotlight on a black-stained rock ceiling. She backed away from the dripping fungus and hit something that rattled. Twisting around, she saw human skeletons embedded in the earth walls like fossils.
Sarah screamed as she realized she had been buried in a mass grave.

“Please don’t cry, Little Otie,” his mama said. Otis turned to see Mama’s ghost sitting in the cab beside him. She was wearing that flowered dress she always wore on hot summer days. The one that clung to her body. “I don’t wanna hurt nobody, Mama.” She put her hand on his face. “I know you don’t, sweetie, but I need to feed in order to survive. You want Mama to stay alive, don’t you?”

Every few feet lengths of old rope were knotted to the crossbeams. They dangled down a foot or so, the ends shredded. She thought of the six people who had hung themselves up here. But there were more than just six knots of broken rope. Dozens. And some of the rope looked new.

The Blevins house flashed moving pictures in Otis’s head, like scenes from a horror film. He saw the violence of the young couple in the cellar. The girl torn apart. The bloody flesh and bones of the boy being broken down into pulp. The earthworms squirming for the blood and meaty morsels that fell to the dirt. Inside the house, Mama’s appetite was growing. She smelled fresh food.

“Jimmy Murray, murdered in the front den. Mona Jennings, stabbed to death in the kitchen. Emma Blevins, Connie Blackwood, and five other women were murdered in the ceremonial room.” She turned the page. “Esther Cummings, found dead in her closet. Lizzy Blevins drowned four children in the bathtub, then drowned herself. Dragomir Stewart hung himself in the attic.”

When he reached the stairway leading down, he found her hiking shoe sitting on the top step. Casey picked it up and swiveled his headlamp beam across the second-floor landing. The dark hallway stretched in two directions, empty. Looking down, he spotted her second shoe at the bottom of the stairs. He walked down and scooped it up. “Meg, what kind of game are you playing?” Again, no response.

The caretaker hooked the chain to the sow’s collar and backed away. Tearing up, Otis sat in an old rocker and chewed a wad of tobacco as he waited. Not long after, the chain began to uncoil and went taut. The pig squealed and struggled to run as she was dragged into a dark hole near the house. Otis left after that. He hated the sounds the house made when it fed.

The house that ate people stood within a coven of pine trees like an ancient god being worshipped. The high branches touched its shingled roof with reverence. Towering three stories, the rock house was far from being a flawless god. The moss-covered stones that cobbled its walls were pocked from years of rot and abandon.

A siren wailed in the distance. Flashing red and blue lights approached quickly down the long dirt road. Good, someone had already responded to the call. The sheriff and deputy rounded their vehicle to greet the officer. The police car barreled into the driveway and kept coming toward them at high speed.

The girl looked at him, her lips quivering, and made a croaking sound. The waitress gave her a glass of water. As the girl drank, Keagan said, “You’re going to be okay. You’re safe now. An ambulance will be here soon. My name is Sheriff Keagan. Can you tell me what happened?” “Dead…” she managed. “They’re all dead.”