The table lamps flickered once, twice then went out with a crack. Startled by the unexpected pop, I spilled my mug of coffee over myself and the book I’d been reading. On my way to the kitchen to get a cloth to clean up there came a knocking on the front door. A young looking couple were stood there drenched to the bone.
“May I use your phone to call my father?” asked the girl. “I’ve broke down about a mile back.”
“Sure, if the storm hasn’t affected it,” I replied. “My lamps have blown but the electric is still fine at the moment. Come on in.”
“Thanks,” she said with a smile. “I only live a few miles away so it won’t take my father long to get here, I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”
They both entered and I pointed the girl to where the phone was sat on a small table in the hallway leading to the kitchen. I went back to cleaning up the mess I’d made.
She returned a few minutes later after making the call and asked to use the bathroom.
The couple slipped their shoes off and ascended the wooden stairs with me following them, I needed to get a clean shirt. Another few minutes passed and not a sound could be heard from the bathroom. Curious, I stopped on the landing at the top of the stairs. The cream carpet by the bathroom door appeared to have a dark stain. It was wet when I touched it, and my fingers were painted red. Was that blood seeping from under the bathroom door?
“Are you alright in there?” I asked.
Nothing. I knocked gently on the door. No answer. I swung it open and saw the girl was somehow pinned to the ceiling. I don’t know how or by what. I opened my mouth to scream but my throat was dry and all I managed was a croak. Her head had been torn off, her stomach ripped open, and her internal organs were scattered on the tiles. Her intestines dangled down and into a tangled heap, surrounded in a pool of thick dark blood. The boy was nowhere to be seen. The window was shut and locked so where was he? I needed to call the police. I slipped with my bloodied feet landing in all the entrails. The scream came out of me this time.
I ran down the stairs and noticed only one pair of shoes by the door before the house was plunged into darkness. I scrambled to find the phone. The line was dead.
Someone was banging like hell on the door. I raced to it and saw an elderly man’s face through the small window. Her father I presumed. I opened it and the girl’s boyfriend stood there with an evil smile. He raised both arms up to show me one hand holding the girl’s severed head and her father’s in the other.