The Visitor
Speaking of writing. Here's something I wrote...let me know what you think.
Lorrie Warren was always up for an adventure. Ever since she was a young girl she loved to explore. The woods near her house, empty lots in her neighborhood, she’d even ventured into parts of her elementary school that she wasn’t supposed to. As she got older her need for exploration and adventure just grew. Caves, old houses, construction sites. Anywhere scary or forbidden.
Now, at 19, she’d taken to a hobby known as ‘Urban Exploration’, which was just a fancy way of saying she liked to sneak into abandoned building and poke around.
The DeFeo House, named after the man who had built and first lived in it, was a large old Victorian structure on the outskirts of Lutzville. Lorrie had taken a two hour bus ride just to explore the house as it was said to be haunted. The Harvey family had been murdered there by the father, George, who then shot himself. The house had lain abandoned since the 30’s when the shooting took place.
People often said said they’d seen spirits in the old house. There were rumors that the wife and son of George, and even George himself, still walked the halls of the place. As Lorrie approached that late evening she could see why such rumors had gotten started. The decrepit house looked haunted. It had once been a cheery white painted structure but had fallen into disrepair, it’s paint had faded and chipped, leaving the house a dark grey colour that gave one a feeling of dread.
Lorrie wasn’t afraid though. She’d seen many such places on her adventures and had never encountered anything scarier than stray cats and the occasional squattter. Lorrie had chosen the DeFeo house because of it’s rumored haunting. She was less likely to run into other explorers or homeless types that way.
It was coming on dusk as Lorrie reached the back door of the home, it was less likely someone would see her sneak in that way, the shadows stretched long from the leafless trees in the backyard. She tried the door and was excited to find it unlocked. She pushed open the door expecting a squeak of the hinges but none came.
Entering the old house she was pleasantly surprised. Most places she’d explored in the past were covered in graffiti, broken bottles, and used condoms. The small kitchen was dusty but otherwise clean. There was a checkerboard pattern of tiles on the floor, though now the white tiles were more of a dark grey like the house’s exterior, and Lorrie noticed she left footprints in the dust as she walked. Lorrie pulled a small digital camera from her bag and took several pictures as she walked deeper into the house.
Lorrie entered a hallway which she figured led to the main hall and entryway of the house. She could hear things scurrying in the wall as she proceeded. She was quite used to seeing critters like mice or even rats during her adventures and they no longer scared her. She pulled out and clicked on her flashlight as she entered the main hall.
It was a large room with parkay floors, accented wood walls, and a large mahogany stairway leading up. There were doors on either side of her, one stood open and the other hung from it’s hinges, but Lorrie wanted to see the view from the upper level. She took a few more photos and started up the stairs but stopped as she heard a sound. Or thought she did. It sounded like a laugh, a short giggle.
After pausing a few moments and hearing nothing she decided it was probably her imagination, or possibly one of the rodents messing around with something. Lorrie continued her ascent trying to ignore the misgivings that had cropped up in her heart.
She reached the second floor and saw several closed doors leading to different rooms up here. There was a small area up here that was decorated only with a small table and a large painting. The painting was a portrait of a family, the Harvey family judging by the tarnished plaque at the base of the frame. The father was a tall foreboding man with slick black hair and a small thin mustache. He wore a stiff looking black suit and a white shirt beneath. There was a black bow tie around his neck that should’ve made him look either dashing or humorous but only served to make him seem more severe and stuffy. He seemed to glare at Lorrie from the painting as if disapproving of her. The mother was small and slim and blonde with pale white skin. She was dressed in a high necked blouse and seemed to stand slightly apart from the father. She held a young boy in front of her as if he were the most precious thing in her life. The boy had his mother’s features. He was small and blond and pale. He looked to be around 10 to 12. He wore a duplicate of his father’s outfit as if to prove that he was indeed related to the man. Despite the somber expressions on his parent’s faces he smiled cheerfully.
Lorrie took a photo of the painting and turned to view the rest of the floor. There was a single door open at the end of the hall, the windows in that room would definitely show the town of Lutzville and probably make from some great pictures.
Out of curiosity Lorrie tried some of the other doors as she walked down the hall but found them all locked. She reached the open doorway and walked into the room. It appeared to be the young boy’s room. There was a filthy bed and in one corner and a few disused toys scattered about but otherwise no furniture. She shone the light around a bit but saw nothing really interesting to take a photo of so she decided to check the view.
Approaching the window Lorrie could see a set of thick, dark curtains covering it. She was almost nervous about touching them, more because of dirt and bacteria then anything else, but decided it wasn’t an adventure without getting a little dirty and so she flung the curtains open.
The window was surprisingly clean and showed the town below and the clear night sky plainly. Lorrie raised the camera, lowering the flash so as not to ruin the picture, when she saw something in the glass. A reflection. She only looked for a moment and yet it was burned into her memory forever. A pale, white, ghostly face. It’s skin decayed and ruined, a set of small dark holes where it’s eyes should be and a larger darker hole just off center in it’s forehead. Exactly where the bullet had torn though. The reflected image raised it’s clawed hand toward her and it opened it’s gaping mouth. A sound somewhere between a scream of pain and a tortured moan escaped from it.
Lorrie screamed and ran. She didn’t stop until she was out the front door and onto the street. She stopped a moment, breathing heavily and tried to convince herself it had all been her imagination. Finally she worked up the courage to look back.
She saw the house looking exactly as it had when she arrived, except the front door now stood open. Lorrie laughed ruefully at herself but the laughed turned to a distraught groan as she stared. The curtains were closed. The ones she’d thrown wide open only a moment before.
Lorrie ran down the street as fast as her now wobbly legs would carry her and didn’t stop until she was at the well lit bus station.
--
With a sad sigh Kaspar closed the curtains. It was the same every time. He tried to be polite as his ma had taught him and say a cheerful hello but they always ran away. He’d never make a friend at this rate. The young boy, who would be a young boy forever, trudged sadly down the stairs. He saw the pretty girl run down the street away from the house as he closed the front door and returned to his solitary existence.
Lorrie Warren was always up for an adventure. Ever since she was a young girl she loved to explore. The woods near her house, empty lots in her neighborhood, she’d even ventured into parts of her elementary school that she wasn’t supposed to. As she got older her need for exploration and adventure just grew. Caves, old houses, construction sites. Anywhere scary or forbidden.
Now, at 19, she’d taken to a hobby known as ‘Urban Exploration’, which was just a fancy way of saying she liked to sneak into abandoned building and poke around.
The DeFeo House, named after the man who had built and first lived in it, was a large old Victorian structure on the outskirts of Lutzville. Lorrie had taken a two hour bus ride just to explore the house as it was said to be haunted. The Harvey family had been murdered there by the father, George, who then shot himself. The house had lain abandoned since the 30’s when the shooting took place.
People often said said they’d seen spirits in the old house. There were rumors that the wife and son of George, and even George himself, still walked the halls of the place. As Lorrie approached that late evening she could see why such rumors had gotten started. The decrepit house looked haunted. It had once been a cheery white painted structure but had fallen into disrepair, it’s paint had faded and chipped, leaving the house a dark grey colour that gave one a feeling of dread.
Lorrie wasn’t afraid though. She’d seen many such places on her adventures and had never encountered anything scarier than stray cats and the occasional squattter. Lorrie had chosen the DeFeo house because of it’s rumored haunting. She was less likely to run into other explorers or homeless types that way.
It was coming on dusk as Lorrie reached the back door of the home, it was less likely someone would see her sneak in that way, the shadows stretched long from the leafless trees in the backyard. She tried the door and was excited to find it unlocked. She pushed open the door expecting a squeak of the hinges but none came.
Entering the old house she was pleasantly surprised. Most places she’d explored in the past were covered in graffiti, broken bottles, and used condoms. The small kitchen was dusty but otherwise clean. There was a checkerboard pattern of tiles on the floor, though now the white tiles were more of a dark grey like the house’s exterior, and Lorrie noticed she left footprints in the dust as she walked. Lorrie pulled a small digital camera from her bag and took several pictures as she walked deeper into the house.
Lorrie entered a hallway which she figured led to the main hall and entryway of the house. She could hear things scurrying in the wall as she proceeded. She was quite used to seeing critters like mice or even rats during her adventures and they no longer scared her. She pulled out and clicked on her flashlight as she entered the main hall.
It was a large room with parkay floors, accented wood walls, and a large mahogany stairway leading up. There were doors on either side of her, one stood open and the other hung from it’s hinges, but Lorrie wanted to see the view from the upper level. She took a few more photos and started up the stairs but stopped as she heard a sound. Or thought she did. It sounded like a laugh, a short giggle.
After pausing a few moments and hearing nothing she decided it was probably her imagination, or possibly one of the rodents messing around with something. Lorrie continued her ascent trying to ignore the misgivings that had cropped up in her heart.
She reached the second floor and saw several closed doors leading to different rooms up here. There was a small area up here that was decorated only with a small table and a large painting. The painting was a portrait of a family, the Harvey family judging by the tarnished plaque at the base of the frame. The father was a tall foreboding man with slick black hair and a small thin mustache. He wore a stiff looking black suit and a white shirt beneath. There was a black bow tie around his neck that should’ve made him look either dashing or humorous but only served to make him seem more severe and stuffy. He seemed to glare at Lorrie from the painting as if disapproving of her. The mother was small and slim and blonde with pale white skin. She was dressed in a high necked blouse and seemed to stand slightly apart from the father. She held a young boy in front of her as if he were the most precious thing in her life. The boy had his mother’s features. He was small and blond and pale. He looked to be around 10 to 12. He wore a duplicate of his father’s outfit as if to prove that he was indeed related to the man. Despite the somber expressions on his parent’s faces he smiled cheerfully.
Lorrie took a photo of the painting and turned to view the rest of the floor. There was a single door open at the end of the hall, the windows in that room would definitely show the town of Lutzville and probably make from some great pictures.
Out of curiosity Lorrie tried some of the other doors as she walked down the hall but found them all locked. She reached the open doorway and walked into the room. It appeared to be the young boy’s room. There was a filthy bed and in one corner and a few disused toys scattered about but otherwise no furniture. She shone the light around a bit but saw nothing really interesting to take a photo of so she decided to check the view.
Approaching the window Lorrie could see a set of thick, dark curtains covering it. She was almost nervous about touching them, more because of dirt and bacteria then anything else, but decided it wasn’t an adventure without getting a little dirty and so she flung the curtains open.
The window was surprisingly clean and showed the town below and the clear night sky plainly. Lorrie raised the camera, lowering the flash so as not to ruin the picture, when she saw something in the glass. A reflection. She only looked for a moment and yet it was burned into her memory forever. A pale, white, ghostly face. It’s skin decayed and ruined, a set of small dark holes where it’s eyes should be and a larger darker hole just off center in it’s forehead. Exactly where the bullet had torn though. The reflected image raised it’s clawed hand toward her and it opened it’s gaping mouth. A sound somewhere between a scream of pain and a tortured moan escaped from it.
Lorrie screamed and ran. She didn’t stop until she was out the front door and onto the street. She stopped a moment, breathing heavily and tried to convince herself it had all been her imagination. Finally she worked up the courage to look back.
She saw the house looking exactly as it had when she arrived, except the front door now stood open. Lorrie laughed ruefully at herself but the laughed turned to a distraught groan as she stared. The curtains were closed. The ones she’d thrown wide open only a moment before.
Lorrie ran down the street as fast as her now wobbly legs would carry her and didn’t stop until she was at the well lit bus station.
--
With a sad sigh Kaspar closed the curtains. It was the same every time. He tried to be polite as his ma had taught him and say a cheerful hello but they always ran away. He’d never make a friend at this rate. The young boy, who would be a young boy forever, trudged sadly down the stairs. He saw the pretty girl run down the street away from the house as he closed the front door and returned to his solitary existence.