About The Exorcist's House:
Excerpt:
The old man pressed his cheek against the door and felt warmth from the wood. A child giggled from inside the room.
“Who is that?” the old man asked with excitement.
“You know who it is.”
“Is that…” the old man couldn’t bring himself to say the name of his son who died from a snakebite when he was just eight years old.
“It is,” the female voice replied.
“Daddy?” a child’s voice spoke from behind the door.
The old man dropped to his knees so that he could be face level with his son who he hadn’t seen in decades.
“My boy! Oh, my boy!” he said as he again pressed his face against the door and caressed the wood. The door was getting warmer, but he didn’t mind.
“Daddy, will you come in here with us?”
“Absolutely, my boy,” the old man said as he stood back up, not feeling the ache in his bones any longer. He held the gun in his right hand and used his palm to press against the doorknob to stand up.
Searing pain shot through his nerves as the blazing metal knob burned his skin. He recoiled and looked at the red mark on his hand that had snapped him out of his delirium. His surroundings were now clear to him. He saw the yellow smoke fuming from under the door; he saw the orange glow of dancing flames; he smelled the pungent odor; he thought about the heat of the doorknob.
Hellfire.
The old man could now hear the sounds of the engulfing blaze in the bedroom. The fire roared as it ate its way up the walls and spread across the ceiling and up into the roof through the bedroom.
“Devils!” he shrieked as he raised his gun to the door once more.
He pulled his white undershirt out from the side of his overalls and used it to grip the hot doorknob and push it open. The sudden rush of oxygen into the room caused the fire to flare through the entry and engulf the old man in flames.
He fell to his side and frantically rolled on the floor, screaming for dear life. A charred wooden beam from the ceiling dropped and slammed atop the old man’s chest, breaking his ribs. The air was too hot and smoky to breathe, and he was soon coughing in and out of consciousness. A dark figure grinned down from the burning ceiling. Merle knew the wretched thing would crawl back to the basement once he was dead. It was just enjoying the show for now.
“Gertie…” His voice trailed off as his head rolled to one side. Bloody saliva dripped from his mouth. Visions of his wife and child took shape in the smoke, and his pain subsided.
The flames raged above him until the entire roof collapsed. Smoke twirled through the air until it was caught in a breeze with the fading laughter.
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