36. The Creature

It was a dog, but not any dog—this one was part dog, part…rabbit? James couldn’t believe what he saw in the moonlight. The creature, which was barking near the treeline, had the body of a large, black dog and the head of a hare.

The barks looked grotesque coming from the hare’s mouth, and all James could think about was how wrong it looked. It was an abomination, it was against nature. As vomit burned in the back of his throat, James heard his wife screaming.

37. Knock, Knock, Knock

James’ legs were moving before his brain caught up. He was downstairs, calling for his wife before his brain even questioned the voice. Marie was supposed to be miles away at her parents’. That wasn’t her. Knock, knock, knock.

The sound came from under the floorboards. At that moment, all of the drawers in the kitchen flew open with a bang. James heard the barking growing louder, and he went to run into the yard. He almost made it.

38. The Flames

Anyone watching the house would’ve seen James Paul Richardson, Vietnam veteran, sheriff’s deputy, father, and husband, fall to his knees on his front porch. His eyes went white as he looked above him, a cloud obscuring the moon, shrouding the scene in an eerie darkness.

A few hours later, James got up, his demeanor eerily calm. He walked back into the house with a determined yet haunted expression. The house, once a refuge, a symbol of family, and the repository of his darkest secrets, was consumed by fire, its once-illuminated windows now glowing with an unholy light. James had made a choice, one that would forever alter the course of his existence, leaving only ashes and embers in his wake.

39. 2000

“You know what I hate about horror books and movies and stuff?” Betsy Richardson looked over at her teenage son, who was buried in a Goosebumps book. Ghost in the Mirror was the title, and the cover featured a ghostly hand reaching out of a swirling, glowing mirror.

Betsy chuckled, saying, “What’s that?” “It’s always so predictable, you know?” he said. “The house is haunted, everybody get out before it’s too late, things going bump in the night. All that stuff.”

40. Coming Home

Betsy nodded. The year was 2000, she was thirty-two, and she’d been a single mother since she was seventeen years old. Her son, Allen, was a clever kid—too clever, as he knew more about what a loser his father was than Betsy would’ve liked.

The two were on their way to Cross Plains, Tennessee, population 1,600. They’d packed up all their belongings and headed to the rural area for one reason and one reason only. Their house. That was their option to be safe.

41. Gratitude

Betsy’s mother, Marie, had just passed away, leaving Betsy a home in Cross Plains and a sizable estate. Her father, James, had been in the military, and his pension money had collected over the years to comprise a decent inheritance.

Though James had died when Betsy was a baby, his money had been used to fix up her family’s centuries-old house. And for that, Betsy felt nothing but gratitude. It was something that made her really happy to even think about.