"The House of Horrors" Del 2
"It was in the late October 1923, and crime investigator William Thornton was on his way home, after having investigated a crime scene on the countryside. The rain showered over the automobile, as he drove along the dirt road, which was more of a simple wheel track than an original road, making it harder to maneuver the machine.
Suddenly, from the left side, a creature -or some sort of animal ran across the road. Both sides had been covered by walls of darkness, that obscured his vision. The appearance of the beast had made him steer away, and as a result, the car slid on the slippery road and dived into a ditch, where it finally crashed with mighty bang into an old dead tree.
After an indistinct time awakened. He had apparently been knocked unconscious by the collision. There were no signs of the beast.
With blood streaming from a wound in the head, he cursed as he carefully made his way out of the damaged vehicle, equipped only with a lantern. William looked through the baggage and dug out his bottle of strong whiskey and took a sip to swallow down the pain. The rain washed over him, diluting the blood in his face. He had to lean against the car because of a painful cut in the leg. "Damn beast", he muttered. After a moments thought, William knew, that if he stayed in the car he'd probably freeze to death or his leg could get infected. Luckily, he remembered seeing an old, Victorian house just before that animal made him crash into a tree. "It shouldn't be more than a hundred yards away" he thought. "If I could get to the house, the owners would probably give me shelter from the rain, and maybe they even have a telephone." Determined to reach the old building, William staggered along the road. He had not forgotten the creature, and as he hated animals of any kind, he had his 45. colt revolver pulled.
It took William only a few minutes in the rain to find the house. There was an abandoned feeling about feeling about the house; several windows were broken or boarded with wooden planks, and the walls featured dark vines and flaked paint, behind which blackened wood was revealed. William could not distinguish any sources of light from inside the house, but decided to knock on the weathered door anyway.
He was surprised to see that the door was already partially opened. He now knew that no one where living in the house for the present. "Damn!" William cursed. "That blew all the chances of getting the hell out of this hellhole!". At least he had found shelter from the rain and the coming of a storm, but he would have to walk all the way home nonetheless.
As he entered the house, William noted that the house was not only empty with people, but most of the furniture were gone too. Just as he raised the lantern to better view the hall, the door slammed shut behind. William jumped by fear as he heard the noise and turned around quickly armed with the gun, but then calmed down. He tried to open the door, but it would not budge. "It must have been the wind, jamming the door", he thought. "I'll find another way out in the morning.
William was distracted once more, by a muffled sound from behind a stained door to the left beside him. It gave a creaking noise as he slowly opened the door, and found himself in a dusty living room. He followed the sound, looking in every corner of the room, but could only listen to whatever was padding around. Thinking of what insidious thing this must be, he scowled and held his hand on the gun. Then, under an oaken table he figured rats, scurrying around in the dark. William was not afraid of rats, but he sure hated the filthy creatures. They suddenly stopped as he slowly approached them, gazing at him with glistening red eyes. Then he made his move. One of them he crushed under his heel with a loud crunching noise. The others quickly dispersed and fled into shadowed corners and holes in the walls, where the lantern's light could not illuminate their hideouts. A pool of blood slowly formed around the dead rat's head. William sneered in disgust of the poor thing and seated himself in a grimy, once rustic armchair, beside a grayed couch. A few sips from the bottle calmed him down, lowered the outside cacophony caused by the storm. Then he dozed off."
