THE CLOSING
This is a piece of Flash Fiction. The topic: A family moves into the neighborhood haunted house.
And by signing this form, you acknowledge that you have been informed about any and all paranormal activity that has been witnessed at the property located at 124 Chestnut Street.
Noah Kuhn turned and gave his girls one of those famous looks that only a tired daddy at his breaking point can give. It was a look that said Can’t I take you girls anywhere? They both smiled as they continued to kick the table legs. Noah narrowed his eyes a bit more, and they finally stopped. No one (not even Noah) noticed the eerie, unnatural interest the girls were taking in the people across the table.
Noah smiled at the seller, a recently widowed elderly man, and his attorney, a young blonde woman, and then deliberately lifted his pen. “I want another $10,000 knocked off the price of this house, or I am walking away right now.” He was already getting 70% off the asking price, but he knew there was no way the seller could say no to his last-minute change in terms. The lawyer nodded, and with a pen stroke, Noah Kuhn and his two young daughters became the proud owners of a most deliciously haunted house.
The three of them drove directly to their new home, where they worked all day. They scrubbed windows, vacuumed, and even washed the walls. “Daddy, this place still smells like old people.”
“I know girls. Just keep cleaning. We will get there.”
They had everything done by bedtime.
“Daddy, we didn’t mean to kill that old woman, you know that, right? We only wanted to scare her. We just wanted them both to leave so that you could buy us this house. You used to tell us all the time that one day you would buy us a house just like this one, you remember, don’t you daddy?”
“Of course, I remember. Look, girls, I know you didn’t mean to scare that poor old woman to death. It wasn’t your fault, she was sick, and she was going to die soon anyway.”
“Daddy, did you notice the old man at the meeting? We stopped haunting this place months ago, and he still looks scared. Stupid old man. All we did was knock a bunch of stuff around and make noises and float in front of him when he was waking up. Boy daddy, it sure doesn’t take much with old people, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t. Ok, it’s bedtime. Let’s try to get some rest, hear me?”
“Daddy…guess what?” Noah turned as the girls exited their physical bodies and began the attack. They advanced in unison as they tried to rip their father’s head off. Claws, fangs, spiked tails all employed with clinical precision. One with her fangs in his back while the other tried to rip his throat out with her claws.
“Girls, girls, girls…you know you are no match for your old man. Get to bed, we can play tomorrow.”
As Noah turned out the light, he remembered what his mom had told him long ago: Adolescent demon spawn can be a handful, especially for a single parent.
