Read Online Manchester House by Donald Allen Kirch - Free Book Online
Authors: Donald Allen Kirch
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“Honey,” Cindy mused, gently rubbing her hands over her breasts, noticing that her nipples were starting to peak. “I think that you should consider taping up the house for winter. You know these old houses. Heating bills will soon make us wish that we were dead.”
The kitchen was silent.
All Cindy heard was the crackling of the cooking eggs.
“What’s going on here?” she mused, smelling smoke. “Kyle, are you burning the eggs?”
Something caught Cindy’s attention.
As Cindy walked toward the kitchen, she saw a Shape peeking out at her from behind the shadows of the staircase. Quick and scary, The Shape disappeared just as fast. Was it a young girl? How did she get in the house? Then, nothing.
Cindy rubbed her eyes. Looking back at the staircase, she saw only wood and shadows.
The feeling for lovemaking was gone.
:He is not worth the time. He sees you only as a good fuck. Do you not know that?:
* * *
Standing over the stove, Kyle appeared to be frozen, looking down at his eggs as they cooked. As much as he wanted to move or look away, he couldn’t.
“Kyle, is something wrong?” he heard Cindy say out in the hall. He couldn’t respond.
Kyle tried to reply, opening his mouth, but was cut off before a sound could come out. Kyle continued to stare at his eggs.
The kitchen was slowly filling up with smoke.
:Look at me!:
Kyle’s muscles started to tighten as he tried to break away from whatever unknown force was controlling him, but he was just too weak. He started to realize that there was a hidden evil here, making him watch the frying embryo in the skillet. An evil that could not be controlled, but rather was controlling the moment.
Kyle started to fear the worst.
Suddenly, to Kyle’s horror, the chicken embryo’s eyes opened. It stared up at him, squirming in its bubbling bath of cooking oil. These were not the dead eyes of a half-cooked under-developed creature. These were the eyes of intelligent evil. They were quite aware of Kyle. And they were certainly aware of the fact that Kyle, a recently retired stockbroker from Boston, was scared to death of it.
The chicken embryo screamed in agony as it moved in the skillet, fighting its way out of the surrounding reddish yellow yolk, and flopping out into the bubbling cooking oil. Flapping its bald wings, it tried to fly away from its crackling hell.
:LOOK AT ME!:
An uncontrolled anger Kyle could not understand started to grow inside of him. A rage more powerful than he had ever known. He grabbed a butcher knife.
The kitchen light exploded, causing the bulb to burst apart into a million pieces.
The room started to fill with a thick black smoke.
“Kyle? What’s going on here?” Cindy said, entering the kitchen. Breathing in the thick smoke, the young woman began to both gag and cough. Innocently she waved a hand in front of her face, trying to push away the smoke, never realizing that it would be the last thing she would ever do.
:Take her!:
Cindy was suddenly enveloped in the blackness of the smoke.
The kitchen became the sounds of a body hitting the floor, crackling burning eggs, and the sounds of rustling plastic.
:Turn off the stove. Good job.:
* * *
One week later&
Kyle left the kitchen in the best mood and state of mind he had ever been in for ages. God! He felt so alive. The unusual incident in the kitchen had seemed to pass without notice-just something to talk about later.
There was a change in the house, however.
Kyle trotted down the main hall humming a childhood song.
A few plastic tarps were seen hanging from the walls helter-skelter, with no pattern or logic to them whatsoever. The entire house’s furniture had been placed in a pile in the middle of the room.
Kyle started pulling off long pieces of duct tape, whistling a nervous little song. He was almost frantic in his happiness, which appeared to be forced upon him. He started talking. He seemed to be addressing Cindy but, strangely, she was nowhere to be
“Honey,” Cindy mused, gently rubbing her hands over her breasts, noticing that her nipples were starting to peak. “I think that you should consider taping up the house for winter. You know these old houses. Heating bills will soon make us wish that we were dead.”
The kitchen was silent.
All Cindy heard was the crackling of the cooking eggs.
“What’s going on here?” she mused, smelling smoke. “Kyle, are you burning the eggs?”
Something caught Cindy’s attention.
As Cindy walked toward the kitchen, she saw a Shape peeking out at her from behind the shadows of the staircase. Quick and scary, The Shape disappeared just as fast. Was it a young girl? How did she get in the house? Then, nothing.
Cindy rubbed her eyes. Looking back at the staircase, she saw only wood and shadows.
The feeling for lovemaking was gone.
:He is not worth the time. He sees you only as a good fuck. Do you not know that?:
* * *
Standing over the stove, Kyle appeared to be frozen, looking down at his eggs as they cooked. As much as he wanted to move or look away, he couldn’t.
“Kyle, is something wrong?” he heard Cindy say out in the hall. He couldn’t respond.
Kyle tried to reply, opening his mouth, but was cut off before a sound could come out. Kyle continued to stare at his eggs.
The kitchen was slowly filling up with smoke.
:Look at me!:
Kyle’s muscles started to tighten as he tried to break away from whatever unknown force was controlling him, but he was just too weak. He started to realize that there was a hidden evil here, making him watch the frying embryo in the skillet. An evil that could not be controlled, but rather was controlling the moment.
Kyle started to fear the worst.
Suddenly, to Kyle’s horror, the chicken embryo’s eyes opened. It stared up at him, squirming in its bubbling bath of cooking oil. These were not the dead eyes of a half-cooked under-developed creature. These were the eyes of intelligent evil. They were quite aware of Kyle. And they were certainly aware of the fact that Kyle, a recently retired stockbroker from Boston, was scared to death of it.
The chicken embryo screamed in agony as it moved in the skillet, fighting its way out of the surrounding reddish yellow yolk, and flopping out into the bubbling cooking oil. Flapping its bald wings, it tried to fly away from its crackling hell.
:LOOK AT ME!:
An uncontrolled anger Kyle could not understand started to grow inside of him. A rage more powerful than he had ever known. He grabbed a butcher knife.
The kitchen light exploded, causing the bulb to burst apart into a million pieces.
The room started to fill with a thick black smoke.
“Kyle? What’s going on here?” Cindy said, entering the kitchen. Breathing in the thick smoke, the young woman began to both gag and cough. Innocently she waved a hand in front of her face, trying to push away the smoke, never realizing that it would be the last thing she would ever do.
:Take her!:
Cindy was suddenly enveloped in the blackness of the smoke.
The kitchen became the sounds of a body hitting the floor, crackling burning eggs, and the sounds of rustling plastic.
:Turn off the stove. Good job.:
* * *
One week later&
Kyle left the kitchen in the best mood and state of mind he had ever been in for ages. God! He felt so alive. The unusual incident in the kitchen had seemed to pass without notice-just something to talk about later.
There was a change in the house, however.
Kyle trotted down the main hall humming a childhood song.
A few plastic tarps were seen hanging from the walls helter-skelter, with no pattern or logic to them whatsoever. The entire house’s furniture had been placed in a pile in the middle of the room.
Kyle started pulling off long pieces of duct tape, whistling a nervous little song. He was almost frantic in his happiness, which appeared to be forced upon him. He started talking. He seemed to be addressing Cindy but, strangely, she was nowhere to be
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