Clouds of Gray

 

CLOUDS OF GRAY They had arrived, and the house was now theirs to gaze upon; it stood there, rig ht on top of the hill, just as it had on the photos they had seen. Such a beauti ful, strange old house... The real estate agent had told them that the house was built in the 1800's, an d that it had quite a history. It was known around these parts as a Haunted Hous e, with a lot of rumors swirling about the house's previous owners in the commun ity. But Claire didn't mind; this was the house she wanted. She could feel it, e ver since she'd stumbled over it online. It was her dream house; the perfect hou se to begin her new life with her husband, Aaron. The perfect place to raise a c hild... Aaron parked their car beside the real estate agent's Mercedes; he was alread y here, waiting for them. He shut down the engine and walked around the car to h elp Claire out. Aaron had always been described by his friends and family as "Th e kid with a heart of Gold", which was why he insisted that his pregnant girlfri end shouldn't worry about anything, and should always be helped. She was early i n her third trimester now, and it was quite obvious. Together, they walked up to the house, excited to see it with their own eyes, excited to move in, excited to start a whole new life, especially with a kid on the way. Too bad the happy, exciting moments weren't going to last long. The real estate agent showed them around the house, a completely unnecessary thi ng to do since they had already made their decision; they were buying this house , no matter the price. They weren't really paying attention to the things that M artin, the real estate agent, was telling them, which was probably a good thing; if they'd just taken the time and listened, then maybe the horrors to come woul dn't have happened at all. Maybe they'd happen to some other people, horrible pe ople, people that deserved to be punished. But alas; their minds were set on thi s house, so both Aaron and Claire were mostly looking around, deep in their own thoughts. They didn't listen to Martin, therefore not noticing how carefully his words were chosen, how little he talked about each room, and how spooked he loo ked. The second his work was done, he flew out the door, telling them to enjoy t he night and come to the office the next morning to deliver the key. This was, i n fact, just a "test run", to see if Aaron and Claire enjoyed staying in the hou se. To be absolutely certain that they wouldn't change their minds after sleepin g here a night or two, or finding out that the neighborhood, the town or the sch ool wasn't to their liking. But they didn't think there would be any problems. T hey were good people, Claire and Aaron. They just wanted a nice place to live. T hey didn't ask for any of this. Sometimes, bad things happen to good peopleâ for no obvious reasons. It's just the way things are. They slept fine in the big, empty house, feeling that this was the place for the m, feeling as they were already home, that this was home, the place they had bee n searching for the whole life, the place where they would grow old together, wh ere they'd raise their children, where they would live happily ever after. They spent the following day taking a look at the town, the school, the neighb orhood. They went by the real-estate office, telling them that they intended to stay another night in the house, that it would take too much time to get home af ter their walk through their town. They didn't speak to Martin, didn't even both er to ask where he was. If they had asked, if they had learned what he'd done, t hen maybe, just maybe, things would have been different... On home, and Claire about were to have f or their dinnerway when theyAaron remembered that thought the house theywhat werethey living ingoing was nearly emp ty. There were almost no furnitures apart from the beds that the real estate age

 

ncy had moved to the house, so that Aaron and Claire could sleep comfortably at night. But they couldn't go to sleep hungry, and since there weren't any food in the house, they needed a convenience store. The convenience store was, rather conveniently, placed right in the middle of th e town. The sky was, at this point, filled with big, large clouds of grey, and a thought rambled through Aaron's head. The thought was this; "Man is neither goo d nor evil; we're merely different shades of grey." While they were in the conve nience store, shopping plain, dull, ordinary things like coffee, tea, bread and so on, this thought grew into something more, and by the time they walked out of the store, Aaron's creative mind had turned this thought into an idea. When they had walked, say, 42 steps away from the store, they heard a voice. Thi s voice shouted something very plain and ordinary, yet this plain and ordinary t hing that the bearer of the voice shouted led to a rather interesting conversati on that later would have much to do with how Claire and Aaron's life turned out. Even if they didn't realize it at the time. "Hey!" Jim shouted after the couple that had just left his store; the couple tha t Manny, the store clerk, had failed to notify him about, even though he had tol d him to call whenever someone new came into the store. Jim liked to be "in the know" as he called it. He wanted to know everything; every answer and every myst ery, even if some of those mysteries were unexplainable. Come to think of it, he ESPECIALLY wanted to know the unexplainable mysteries. That was the reason he'd moved to this godforsaken town in the first place. Aaron and Claire turned around. Claire didn't carry anything; it was Aaron who carried both shopping bags. Not that he minded. Quite the contrary, he loved it . He was a happy man, with a good-looking gal and a baby on the way. "What is it?" asked Claire, a smile on her face. She was beautiful, thought Aa ron. Stunning, even. "Not much. I just wanted to welcome you to the fine state of Washington, and t he beautiful small-town of Wakeville. You the new couple that's moving in to the old Gray-house?" "I'm sorry, what? The Gray-house?" Typical, thought Jim. The real-estate agents hadn't even told them about the leg acy of the house they were moving into, nor what it was called around here. "Yes, the Gray-house. It's the big, ol' house, up on that hill." Jim pointed i n what he thought was the direction of the house. "Oh, yes. That's ours now. We just came from the real-estate agency and finali zed the deal." Aaron smiled, and reached out his hand. "I'm Aaron, and this is my long-time girlfriend Claire. Nice to meet you...?" "Oh, yes, silly me. I'm Jim, and it's a pleasure to meet you to." Jim's whole face cracked open, and he smiled heartily from ear to ear. They all shook hands, before Jim started to tell the new folks about the colorful history of the Gray -house. "Say, you prob'ly haven't heard a lot of the tales surrounding the Gray-house from the real-estate, have you?" Claire had to think before she answered. "Eh, no. Not at all actually; we just know that a lot of the local myths plays off the history of the house" "Oh, well, myths and myths." Jim smiled mysteriously. "They're much more than just myths. They're stories, with only two things in common." "Oh? Well what's that?" said Aaron, mockingly. Even with his job of creating o ther-worldly art, he was quite the skeptic. "Well, for starters, they're all horrible horror stories, and they all use the old Gray-house. In various capacities, of course." "Is there any reason for this?" Claire was mildly interested now. She continue d; "That all these various tales use the Gray house, I mean. Isn't that kind of. .." She trailed off, but Jim saw a jumping-on point here. "...weird?" He the said, confirming her mistake that, yes, this was a bit stra nge. Then again, Gray house had always been justwhy that: strange. "Yes. It is. But it's no secret that the Gray house has always been a place of

 

great tragedy, among other things." Jim paused, artistically. He had told this tale so many times; over and over, to new people that didn't know what they were going into. He wanted to warn them in a different way, but he couldn't. It was against the rules. Plus, it was almost over. Soon, it would all be over... "The first family that lived in the house carried the last name of Gray, hence "The Gray House". The fact that it's a grey house might also have had something to do with it, of course. Anyway, it was the father of the Gray family, Maurice Gray, that built the house, back in 1802. He was a normal fellow; wasn't a hint of special about him. He was an up-and-comer in the house business, this being his first house and all, and when the house was finished, he took his family and moved into the house, to check that they'd done an alright job. They had, obvio usly, as the house still stands today. But that's not the horrible part. The hor rible part is that after spending two days in that house, good 'ol Maurice Gray got his double barred shotgun and methodically shot all six of his children, alo ng with his wife." "Wow. That's... that's horrible!" Even the always-skeptic Aaron was shocked no w. "Indeed it is. But that's just the beginning; over the years, worse and worse things have happened over there. You have no idea, no control, over the power th at roams in that house. That's why I ask you, deeply and sincerely, to move the fuck outta that house!" "Hey! You people, over there!" It was the cop. God, I hate that cop. Always ru ining interesting conversations. I bet he's going to say something like, "Hiya, folks." then pause for a short while, only to follow up with "Is this man bother ing you?", thus making everyone uncomfortable. Which was exactly what he did. He continued his streak of terrible mistakes with taking Aaron and Claire back u p to the house, whilst making sure that they spent another time in the Gray hous e, by saying things like "He's everywhere with these stories" and "There's just no shutting him up!". These things are always followed with a laugh and a smile. These small-town folks have to follow a template, that's how alike they all are . Jim, on the other hand, knew that this would happen. He'd tried, and failed, cre ating interest rather than fear. The cop was there to put everything back in pla ce. Yet again, things were working out as they always had. Hopefully, this would be the end. Hopefully... Aaron and Claire got back to the Gray house; their "home" for the next four hour s. In four hours from now, they'd be dead. Might as well enjoy it. They cooked dinner and had sex; hot, steaming, passionate "we-just-bought-a-hous e-and-are-having-a-baby-we're-so-happy-"sex. They didn't even use a condom, beca use, well, they were already having a baby. No harm could be done, as they were both disease-free. After the sex, they went to sleep. Claire happily, but Aaron couldn't shake th e feeling that they were being watched. That something bad was about to happen. And that this one, little bad thing would eventually worsen and become just abou t the worst thing that could happen. He was right. Aaron woke up an hour later, drenched in sweat. The pain was about to start. He sneaked out of the bed, naked, not caring whether anyone saw him, not caring about the cold, not caring about anything. He of the into the hall, down the stairs, and outside. He walked walked out towards thebedroom, shed. On his way there, he regained control for only a short while, having seen what w

 

as about to happen. What whatever was inside him was going to do. Having regained control, he went down on the ground, gasping for breath, fightin g whatever was in control of him, but it was already too late. The wrongs had al ready been made; these were just the after-shocks. As soon as Aaron lost control again, his road towards the shed continued. He kicked open the door to the shed, and located the axe before picking it up an d returning to the house, the stairs, the hall and, finally, the bedroom. Aaron regained control again for a shifting moment, looking at his soon-to-be-wi fe with a tender, "I'm-so-sorry"-look in his eyes. This only lasted a second, be fore the axe was raised high, and brought down with impeccable force, on Claire.   Her left leg was now laying beside her, not connected to the body in any way. Cl aire woke up, screaming; there was blood everywhere, and more was coming. Aaron, or whatever was in control of him, grabbed her by the right leg, and dragged he r. Into the hall. Down the stairs. Outside. Into the woods. Out of the woods. Dumping her into the boat by the edge of the lake. Once out on the lake, Aaron kick-started the birth, pushing the baby out with hi s hand, running it repeatedly across her belly. When the baby was out, it went d irectly into the water. After this vital procedure had been performed, Aaron removed whatever life was l eft in Claire by slashing her throat, slowly and carefully, getting all the bloo d into the water. When he was finished with this, he pushed the lifeless body of Claire out into the water, with the baby still connected to her by the umbilica l cord. Aaron rowed the boat, slowly and carefully, back to the edge of the lake. He wen t back to the Gray house where he took Claire's left leg and masturbated so that it was covered with semen. He completed the dreadful tasks of this fateful nigh t by placing the leg under the planks, in the floor of the old Gray house. The next day, Aaron was found in the woods, naked, and covered in blood and seme n. Where his heart had been, there was a hole. A deep, dark, black hole of nothi ngness. And on the bottom of the dark lake, there's a very young boy waiting on the day he'll rise. THE END ...?