This one is a horror story for Halloween.
From a distance, the ancient two-story house with its dozen rooms looked like it was a grand mansion. The image of the rows and rows of garden fooled folks. It made the old home place seem to be the best of houses. In fact, it was the worst of houses. It was haunted. It didn’t mean to be haunted but it was.
As the wind rotated the weather vane outside, it sounded like screaming coming from a distance. But the screaming was closer. It was inside the house and the screams came from the basement. That was where the old man kept the bodies of his mother, his sister, his wife, his two boys. He went on a rampage one night. At the end of the night, he was the only one left alive.
Why didn’t he get caught? When people came to the door, he shushed them away. The town nearby came to the conclusion that the family was strange and crazy and the townsfolk left them alone. That was best.
The old man went into town only rarely for supplies. He didn’t talk much, just bought his goods, then he went back to the house. It was only after six months when no one had seen him that people began wondering. Finally, the sheriff went out to check.
The old man’s corpse sat in his large chair. The chair was facing the basement door. He held an axe on his lap. On his face was a scream. Down in the basement, the policemen found the rest of the family, chopped into small pieces, their heads laid out on a table. On their faces were smiles. It was as if they had brought about the old man’s death and they were rejoicing.
Funny thing was. The wind carried no more screams.