Horror - Short

This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious and any similarities to actual persons, locations, or events is coincidental. This work cannot be used to train artificial intelligence programs.  No AI tools were used in the writing of this story.

All rights reserved. Burn Copyright © Eddie Generous 2026

BURN

The stairs creaked beneath Todd’s steps as he cursed the stupid old house.

“Mom? Dad?” he whispered into the pitch-black basement.

The only light available was an orange flame emitted by the mini, Bic brand lighter he wielded. Outside the home, a storm thrashed the countryside. The power was out when Todd awoke to the cackling laughter coming from the main floor. By the time he climbed out of bed and retrieved his lighter from its hiding spot in his sock drawer, the laughter had become conversation.

It was just him and his parents way out there. His mother was a lawyer and his father was a surgeon. They were older than most other kids’ parents, older and wealthier. They joked that once they saved up five big ones that they were moving to smack in the center of nowhere to live the stress free, simple life of country folks. Todd didn’t believe it until they snatched up the roots from the life he’d known for ten years and plopped the family into a strange, disconnected world.

At first, it was pretty cool having all that space. There was a trail into the forest that came up on a clearing and a giant stone. The giant stone had a gnarly tree growing right out of the middle of it. It was probably the coolest tree Todd had ever seen. There was also a pond and a big hill he planned to make full use of come winter and snow.

Of course, the fascination with the detached place waned quickly and Todd wondered about internet speeds and lagging behind his old friends when it came time to enter one of the many virtual worlds they’d routinely traversed. He was not alone on that front, his father wondered about similar issues.

Todd had begun to question the realities of country living. Sure, there was the trail through the woods, the pond in the backyard, and the big hill, but where was the connection to the world? At such a distance, human contact became difficult. Todd’s father had craved solitude and once he got it, he wondered how close the neighbors were, five miles, ten?

Todd’s mother was adamant about sticking it out, working through the kinks of change. As they always had before, Todd and his father caved.

Steamy summer days passed and the house boiled. Todd’s mother began to understand the discomforts of country living. The original settlers knew a hell she could hardly fathom. Problems she wanted never to understand or relate to, even in a slim sense.

It was only that morning that she declared that the house would go back on the market, and they’d return to the city with their gadget loving tails between their legs. The first sprinkles of rain began as she spoke and the shower picked up gradually as the day progressed.

Todd listened with relief as his parents got through to the moving men and the realtor that listed their as of yet unsold brownstone. The listing switched and the country plot and house hit the market. The city dwelling would take its relieved former tenants in only a few days.

The successful calls ended there. The cellular service was shaky from the moment they’d arrived, and the ever-building storm cut off the wireless connection. Todd’s father used the landline to make one more call and had it drop before he and his former partner in practice traded goodbyes.

Todd’s father whispered with mock fear that it was as if the country wanted to keep them right where it had them. They all joked about the so-called simple life and into the night watched choppy, buffer-ridden videos online. The rain battered incessantly on the tin roof. Lightning danced and thunder drummed a roll.

At 9:30, more bored than tired, Todd went to bed.

It really wasn’t a wonder he awoke so easily after a few hours upon hearing voices downstairs. The real wonder came when he got to the main floor and the voices seemed to come from deeper in the home.

The basement.

As nice as the old house was, the basement took rustic too far. Muddy floors and jutting, whitewashed stone walls coated in thick grey webbing. Weepy cracks and breezy gaps. That wasn’t all, to Todd it had a vibe. A creepy place, Todd’s parents laughed at him when he voiced the opinion, joked that he was too much of a city boy.

This was forced humor. The adults avoided the basement just as the boy had. They felt that vibe.

So what were they doing down there in the middle of a storm?

A vibe wasn’t a real threat, not to Todd and he swung open the door to the basement and felt the cool breeze on his face.

“Mom? Dad?” he whispered and cleared his throat as he stepped down the creaking stairs, then called out, “Mom! Dad!”

No voices returned, but there was chatter just beyond the whistling wind and dripping rainwater.

Creak. Creak.

“Mom?”

Creak.

“Dad?”

Creak. Creak. Splash.

Todd’s foot fell into cold water. The basement flooded. The voices ceased.

“Mom? Dad?” Todd said and swung his arm around in a gentle motion. Not gentle enough, his thumb slipped and burned on the hot steel safety guard. The lighter fell and plunked into the water at his feet. “Dammit.”

Splashing sounded all around the basement as if two-dozen rubber-booted kiddies kicked at puddles.

“City boy lost his light!” a shrill voice screeched through the darkness.

“Who’s there?”

“City boy, city boy, too late to run home!” several childish voices cried in unison.

Todd turned and sprinted blindly up the stairs, screaming, “Mom! Mom! Mommy!” as he moved.

The voices fell away behind him as he flung open the door to the main floor. It was dark, but not as dark as the basement. Lightning outside flashed and he caught strobe visions of the kitchen.

“Todd? Todd? Where are you?” Todd heard his father call for him.

Todd’s heart pattered toward the safe, warm feeling of a parent nearby. “Dad!” he shouted and shuffled in near blindness toward his father’s voice. Out of the kitchen and into the living room. His father’s shadow faced the dining room, lightning flashed. “Dad!”

The man spun toward his son and opened his arms. “Oh son. It’s all on you now,” he said.

Todd held his father tight as he could. “What is?”

“It’s all on you now, son. You’re the man of the family.”

Todd’s arms fell slack. “What?”

The man pushed Todd out to an arm’s length. “City boy, city boy, too late to run home. This place is damned and your father’s gone cold!”

Lightning flared and Todd peered at his father. The man’s eyes had been sewn shut with thick slimy twine. His mouth spilled viscous black liquid around the words.

“Dad?” Todd cried.

“City boy, city boy!” Todd’s father began screeching, his skin peeling from his scalp down, the wet bone and muscle beneath glistening under the heavy staccato crash of the electric storm beyond the walls. “Too late to run home!”

Todd reefed backward as his father began a horrific cackle.

“No Dad, no!” Todd stumbled and rushed toward the front door. He was ten, plenty old enough to hop in one of the cars and tour back to the city. To hell with the law. “Mom!”

The door swung open and banged against the porch railing. The rain had drowned the yard under three feet of water. In the sky, white bolts flashed sideways in layers of circular currents of light, shining down on the mucky property. Humps popped about the wet surface like frogs emerging from beneath lily pads. Filthy children in ancient garb splashed forward, their collective voices forming perfect terror.

“City boy, city boy, too late to run home. This place is damned and your father’s gone cold. Dead but the one called…”

Todd felt a hand on his shoulder, wrenching him backward through the door. He screamed and flailed, fell wetly on the old hardwood.

“No, please!”

“Shh, Todd. Something’s happening, come on.”

“Mommy?”

“Yes, come. We’ve got to hide, someone’s in the house and the power’s out… Oh hell, I don’t know what’s happening!”

Todd’s mother pulled him to his feet and then quickly up the stairs. They rushed into the master bedroom and Todd’s mother slammed the door. She began dragging the dresser sideways. Todd fumbled in the dark, helping her with a push.

“Mom, Dad’s dead!”

Todd listened to his mother’s quiet sobbing. He put a hand on her back.

She mumbled something into her palms.

“What?”

“Dead…dead but the one called Burn,” she whispered.

“What did you say?” Todd rubbed her shoulders, cool and damp from the rain.

Todd’s mother rose and stepped away from her son. A thump landed on the door and rocked the contents of the dresser. The old dresser was heavy, only the stuff in the drawers moved.

“I said, dead but the one called Burn.”

“I don’t understand,” Todd said, fear bubbling up his throat.

Outside, the spinning electrical currents lowered around the house like a halo and shined white light through the window. The heavy drapes did little to dampen the tenacity of the glare. Thumps landed on the door again. Thumps pounded the walls. Pictures fell and voices filled the air.

“City boy, city boy, too late to run home. This place is damned and your father’s gone cold. Dead but the one called Burn. The master has risen for your turn.”

“Mom!”

Todd put his hands over his ears and watched his mother stride to the window. She swung the drapes aside, the light pouring around her silhouette was nearly blinding. The pane shattered and the woman turned. She held a shard of glass between her palms.

“City boy, city boy, too late to run home,” Todd’s mother sobbed as she joined the chorus of voices from outside the room. “This place is damned.” She ceased her chant while the others continued. The glass pierced her chest and crunched against ribs. Blood drained in a shower down her pajama shirt. She resumed her chant as she dug: “Burn. The master has risen for your turn.”

Todd stumbled back and fell to the floor at the sight of his mother wrenching her heart from her chest and then biting into it as if it was an apple.

“Mom, no!”

The woman quickly toppled into a fleshy heap, lifeblood seeping into the cracks of the floorboards. Behind Todd, the dresser screeched across the floor and the walls around him began to crumble. Children stomped a wet parade. Mucky footfalls pattered in the blood that had begun raining down from the ceiling.

“City boy, city boy, time to meet Burn!”

Todd covered his face and brought his knees tight to his chest. The chanting voices washed away, as did the splashing and the patter of the blood rain. Still, he didn’t dare open his eyes.

In the quiet, he heard heavy steps approach him. Todd balled tighter.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Welcome home, Todd,” a deep voice said.

Thump. Thump.

The footfalls drew away and Todd remained so tight that his knees touched his chin. The heat at his core began to rise until sweat bubbled on his face and still he refused to open his eyes. Todd wanted to cry out for someone, or something. A figure or figures, he didn’t recall which, it was receding…

Until…

It…

Was…

All…

Gone.

After a time, the heat no longer burned him and the terror wasted away. He opened his eyes.

—

“I could’ve sworn this place was off the market,” said the man in his three-piece Armani suit, red Gucci loafers, and a gold Rolex timepiece.

The realtor smiled. “It was and then poof, the owners disappeared and never came back. I guess they’d called their agent in the city and told her they were done with the quiet life. Only lived out here a little while too. The agent passed it off to me.”

“Couldn’t hack it, huh?” asked the woman in a striped black and yellow Stella McCartney dress, floppy Flora Bella hat, and Dolce slippers. “We’re really looking forward to slowing down. Live the simple life, ya know?”

“And the privacy,” the man added. “Isn’t that right, Kite?”

Kite, a nine-year-old girl grimaced. She worried much about leaving the city for this grungy old house. The whole place gave off bad vibes, but nobody ever listened to her.

The realtor led the trio through the home, and from his spot between the floorboards, Todd whispered with anticipation, “City girl, city girl too late to run home.”

XX