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It was a peaceful day in Mogsby village. The birds sang, the sticky-bun sweet smell wafted from the bakery and the sun was beating down on the deserted local park. But locked away in the heart of the village was a terrible secret. You will soon know of this legend if you walk the streets of Mogsby. Many senior shoppers will know, not an infant, nor a teen are there within miles. As one innocent family was about to find out…
On that same sunny day, a shiny removals van rattled through town. It carried the Dunn family.
“TOM, wake up we are here. Give Jack a nudge as well.” The kids mum exclaimed.” I really think you will like the new house. Apparently Dads already done the garden and he says there is a spooky old oak treeliving there. He said that whenever he tried to cut it down, whatever tool he tried, it simply refused to cut! Maybe you could check it out when we get there.”
Taz the family dog bolted it through the house, skidding whenever he tried to tern a corner. SLAM!
”Well I think that door is going to need to be fixed, Mom! Taz doesn’t look to good either.” Jack moaned, as he shuffled under the splintered wooden beams.
“This house gives me the creeps.” Whispered Tom to the dust coated cobwebs. His feet creaked over the bare wooden floor, all the way over to the steamy bay windows. As he wiped his finger over the condensation, a sudden but subtle draft waved up his pale, bony back. Lifting its hairs to like that of a scared cat’s. Now with more desperation did Tom wipe the window, but to his horror, he didn’t see blooming flowers, sprouting shrubbery or sun beating down on the dew dropped grass as he did when he entered, but till the eye could see was churned earth, a rising smog and pure darkness. The centre piece of hells mantle was the old Oak tree. Never pruned, trimmed or cut back. Overflowing with tangles and knots. At the tip of all the assassinating branches are daggers ready to slice open its next victim. And hiding behind the rotting, small round-about girth size stump was what the villagers had nightmares about; the old people would not venture out in the fear of; the children would be no more from and it would be the last thing tom would see in this world…
Taz started to howl and bark, meanwhile the unplugged TV started to flick on and off, buzzing and humming at an invisible watcher. Tom froze on the spot. Not knowing whether it was a dream or not, he started to scream for his brother who was unpacking in his room. But when to heard no reply from anyone, he knew there was something wrong.
Tom raced for the stairs, although to his torment, replacing the buzzing TV and the whimpering dog was a cruel silence then, TAP TAP TAP, on the window.
”Tooooommmmm!” The enticing voice croaked.”HE, HE, HE! “ It chuckled and as Tom pivoted around. There was no Taz to bee seen, apart from a slobbery half chewed toy deserted in his still warn basket. Tom shaking now he could feel the sweat tumbling down his face, an unbearable damp, decaying smell stained the air.
TAP TAP TAP! Now on the front door and louder.
Tom was glued to the spot. Where did everyone go? Suddenly with tremendous force the splintering door frame exploded off the walls and the woodworm-infested door blew off and thundered across the room, smashing everything in its path like a rhino in charge. But when tom peered to see the culprit of this super-natural stunt, there was nothing amongst the debris.
BANG, BANG, BANG! Three ear-spitting stomps echoed across the endless splinters covering the bare wooden floors.
“TOM! HA.” The invisible torment shouted.
Now with more courage built up inside him, Tom ran up the newly carpeted stairs, but laid before him was not a soft white carpet like the one he saw when he came in. But a blood stained, ripped and torn textile draped along the continuing bare wooden boards.
STOMP, STOMP, STOMP! Tom could hear the shadow stalking him up the stairs. “I wouldn’t go up there if I where you!” The voice sniggered.
Furious of being scared of something he could not see, Tom opened the first door he saw, flinging it open in the hope and desperation that inside would be the key or answer to exterminating this purgatory.
Tom should have headed the tormentors words.
Jack lay torn apart on his rosy-red blood stained quilts. His head twisted into a scream for help that wasn’t heard. The soft flesh, pierced and the vital organs gouged out. His limbs savagely chewed and feasted on. Jacks skin that was still visible was so pale it was almost a light blue and so cold you could get frostbite from just looking at it.
Tom stared in total horror and denial that someone or something would do this.
BANG BANG BANG! An iron fist smashed into the peeling walls, bits of plaster crumbling with exhaustion, and then the menacing shadow whispered, “Would you like to join him?!”