The House That Should Not Be Here - Part 1 - By Django Perks

 

The House That Should Not Be Here

Part 1

By Django Perks

Yorkshire 2017

A storm rages across Yorkshire. Lightning flashes across the sky and the heavens...oh, how they rumble. It is a storm so unlike any other. So unnatural, so strange. It’s violent, thrashing at everything within its reach. It reminds people of an animal trying to get loose of its cage. It reminds them of a mental man or woman thrashing around in their bed. The rain beats a rhythm out against the ground and anything that fails to get out of its way. Trees fall against the wind, losing their footing and bringing up tremendous amounts of earth. As soon as you leave Yorkshire, the rain stops, the storm itself appears as though it never existed. Except...when you look back, it does. A thick fog is now ascending from nowhere. Cars are forced to stop in their tracks as it becomes impossible to see where they are heading. Children sit huddled together in the back of the car. The storm won’t stop at all. ‘The football match that was due to happen this evening at 8:30 has been cancelled due to heavy rain and stormy conditions.’ A news reporter reads over his microphone. He practically has to shout to be heard over the rain that beats down upon the roof. Everyone, everywhere in Sheffield have their radios turned up to full volume to hear what is happening in areas. Even a tree that has fallen in the park makes the news tonight. There might be a cause of this unnatural storm, we don’t know. It could be anything. Like I said, we don’t know.

A house sits innocently within the storm. A brief look at the signpost would tell you nothing. Reckless teenagers who dare to go so far out at night have scrawled over it with graffiti. I can tell you that the house lies just outside of Eyam This house is surrounded by endless fields of luxurious green but the house is different. Darker than everything surrounded by it. It just sits there. Sits there in the dark. There are no other houses surrounding it. It looks as though it is crying, as though it is afraid. We zoom closer into the house.

We are now standing in front of it. The front garden is overgrown and dead. The front of the house looks as though it will fall to the ground any moment now. It has vines growing up it and they dig into the brickwork and the windows. As you look up it, you see a face staring at you. It intrigues you so you head into the house and up the narrow staircase that resides in the porch. You noticed which room it was when you were outside. You count the doors knowing that it is the third one. You enter the room and there he is.

The boy faces you. He is of the age 5 and looks afraid. He starts saying something. You strain your ears to hear but there is no need to do that. He starts to get louder and louder until he is practically shouting. “Help me. Help me. Help me.” He reiterates this simple phrase over and over again. You notice he is starting to fade. Slowly and silently, he disappears into the darkness of the room. He was a ghost. Nothing but a figment of your imagination. Suddenly, something hits you over the head and you are dragged down to the floor. You lose your consciousness and sink into the depths of darkness.

2 Hours Later...

You realise you are now waking up. You have been shaken awake by a voice that has materialised out of thin air. It calls your name. It has dug into the back of your mind to get the most important thing that belongs to you; your name. It repeats it. A slight hesitation scares you. You want it to keep saying your name to know that it will do you no harm. But it won’t. The voice doesn’t have an owner. It is just billions and trillions of past lives calling you to join them. You regain full consciousness and look around. There is no one but the voices still beckon you. Telling you that you should join them. You get up and run to the door. “Help me! Help me!” you call. You stop and realise that what you are saying is exactly what that boy you saw a moment ago was saying. You stop immediately. You realise you haven’t seen the rest of the room yet so you get up and walk to the wardrobe and look inside. It is full of clothes. A young child used to inhabit this room. You turn away from the wardrobe and walk towards the bed. You sit on it. Once you sit on it, you realise that the voices have stopped. However, the boy has reappeared. You don’t even bother to strain your ears because you know he will get louder. “You can save us. You can save us. YOU can save us.”

10 Years Earlier

“Hello? Yes, hello. I am reporting a missing child. Yes, that’s right. His name’s George.”

“Hello? Yes, hello. I am reporting a missing child. Yes, that’s right. His name’s Jonathan.”

“Hello? Yes, hello. I am reporting a missing child. Yes, that’s right. His name’s Isaac.”

“Hello? Yes, hello. I am reporting a missing child. Yes, that’s right. Her name’s Jane.”

“Hello? Yes, hello. I am reporting a missing child. Yes, that’s right. Her name’s Mary.”

“Hello? Yes, hello. I am reporting a missing child. Yes, that’s right. Her name’s Elizabeth.”

The phone lines were busy that day. At least 200 children had gone missing over that day. Every policeman had to monitor the phones. None of them knew that it had something to do with a house just outside of Eyam. No one knew that the only way these children could reappear is by just one person.  No one knew that this disaster would lead to 10 years of a thunderstorm that would not flood Yorkshire, but would blanket it under everlasting misery. If this one person saved those children, the next 10 years would never have happened. The misery would be gone. Time would rewrite itself.

The House, Just Outside of Eyam, 2017, The Present Day

You realise that before you came within the boundaries of the house, there was a thunderstorm. Now, as you look out the window in the room, you see clear skies. There is no sign of  a thunderstorm. You note the queer, unnatural feeling that keeps the house company. You don’t like it. You wander back over to the bed. The boy had said that you could save them but you don’t know how to. You call out, “How can I save you?”. The boy reappears. This time, his voice is loud and clear. You don’t need to wait. “The house should not be here.”

You repeat the words senselessly.

“The house should not be here.”

“The house should not be here.”

“The house should not be here.”

“The house should not be here.”

The House should not be here and it is up to you to stop it. Stop the disaster that is forthcoming. You can stop it. But how will you?