The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Blood and Ivy
by Carietta Dorsch  

In the heart of a dense and foreboding forest stood a house long forgotten by the town.
Walls once painted a vibrant shade of red, the same shade as the original owner’s favorite lipstick, were now faded and weathered, blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees. The house seemed to have merged with the woods, as if it had become one with the darkness beneath the canopy of branches. The oaks and the gnarled roots of the towering pines looked like extensions of the house.

Nicole and Anthony stumbled upon the house while exploring the surrounding woods on their hike. Drawn by curiosity, they pushed through the overgrown foliage, their eyes widening as the dilapidated structure came into view. The once-grand mansion now stood as a haunted shell of its former glory, its windows shattered, and once-majestic entrance consumed by nature’s relentless grasp.

“ Wanna go in,” Anthony asked nudging Nicole, “ I do. Come on.”

“ It doesn’t look too safe,” Nicole’s voice whispered as she followed behind him.

“ Come on.”

The house loomed before them, windows shattered and doors hanging from their hinges. They hesitated for a moment, their eyes scanning the eerie surroundings. With a collective breath, they stepped inside, their footsteps echoing through the hall. The air was thick with dust and decay, and the scent of rotting wood filled their nostrils. The house seemed to creak and groan in response to their presence, as if it
were alive and aware of their intrusion.

“ Let’s just go.”

“ Come on Nicole. Just a few minutes,” he said in an attempt to impress his girlfriend with his manliness.

As they continued forward the sound of creaking floorboards echoed louder. Shadows seemed to dance upon the walls, their elongated forms seemingly alive. They explored room after room, their hearts pounding with a mixture of excitement and dread. Over time the wallpaper had peeled away, revealing grotesque faces made from stains hidden beneath.

The walls were adorned with grisly tapestries woven from twisted vines, and the furniture was crafted from gnarled branches.

The ivy and vines suddenly came alive, slithering along the walls. The tendrils reaching out like skeletal fingers, eager to ensnare its prey.

The house was hungry.

“ What the fuck is this?”

“ Anthony help me!”

They tried to pull away, but the house’s grasp was too strong.

The ivy tightened its grip, constricting their movements, binding them to the house’s sinister embrace.

Desperation consumed them as they fought against the house’s hold. They tore at the ivy, their hands bloodied and bruised, but it seemed to sipher their energy the more they struggled. The house reveled in their torment, feeding off their fear and despair.

More branches reached out and wrapped around their bodies, squeezing tighter and tighter until their bones snapped like twigs. Their screams echoed through the halls as they were drug deeper into the mouth of the house.

Days turned into weeks, and the house stood as a silent watchman in the heart of the woods. Its branches, still stained with the blood of all its victims, reached out hungrily, waiting for the next unsuspecting soul.

Twisted branches swayed in the wind, and if one looked closely just beyond the window pane, two blooming flower blossoms dripping with red dew could be seen, as if in memory of its latest victims. In time their memory will fade and the house will remain.

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Fiction © Copyright Carietta Dorsch
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com.