Abby had bought me lunch from a gas station down the road after four truckloads and a half-empty storage container later. I even scored a tv tray stand like my parents used to have, which she said was another freebie for helping. We sat on the tailgate of our trucks, taking a break, and she decided to start asking questions. “So why Sunny Field, Sam?” First name basis it is, I guess. “Hmm, no particular reason, Abby. It was the first place the reality company called me about,” I responded, biting into the soggy pizza with mystery toppings. “Oh, so you could have ended up somewhere else, then? Well, Sunny Field isn’t too bad. It’s just another small town with older people. There’s not much history to it unless you can count the Witmaker’s story. But that kind of history isn’t really talked about. It’s like a dark stain on the town. Folks just ignore it.” I looked at her, and it dawned on me, “Isn’t that whose property I just brought?” She nodded a little hesitantly before

With the bricked doorway to my back, I heard a noise from the hallway. “Shhhllliiipp,” is what I could hear first, and then, a wet pop as something hit the floor. Then, it repeated, “Shhhllliiipp, pop,” like something wet was dragging down the hallway. Again, I could only stare as I backed up. The noise was horrifying. Suddenly blood slowly wrapped along the bottom edges of the wall coming from that direction until it pooled out, heading to the center of the living room floor. I ran for the windows and found them still nailed shut. “Fuck, can’t I get a break?” My voice was drowned by the horrible noise getting louder behind me. I didn’t dare turn around. What was I supposed to do? Get on my knees and start praying? I hesitated, feeling at a loss. Finally, I asked for whatever god was listening to end this dream. The wet sound ceased, but whatever was making it, I could hear it wheezing behind me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I slowly turned with my head down. Taking a deep br

“Well, here in Sunny Field, the law decides someone’s due process. The Witmaker family was dangerous, and if my Pop didn’t take action, who knows what’d happen next? The town basically demanded the hanging, they had enough evidence, so it was a pretty open and closed case.” I nodded at his answer and then faked like I was shocked and in awe, “Wait, your Pop, was he the sheriff when this happened?” Chuck nodded, smiling from ear to ear, “Yes, sir, he was. A mighty fine sheriff too. He also farmed the land sitting next to yours. The Witmaker family did own the land, leasing it to my Pop, but they lost it to the bank for unpaid land tax. So, Pop ended up buying it outright and built a house there,” he said and then leaned in, like what he was about to say was a secret, “Bill Witmaker, the father, was furious and did all sorts of nasty things to get it back. One time, my Pop swore he’d seen Bill sacrificing a goat with his wife Anne to put some sort of curse on the land. Nothing ever h

“What in the fuck now? Walking to the barn, I noticed random patches of wheat had sprouted up next to the deep red color of the barn. I found it odd the paint seemed so new. Getting closer, the crying and begging, “Please stop, please! No.. No... stop! Don’t, please! I’m sorry! Please don’t, please don’t...” came out in desperate tones. I suddenly panicked, patting my clothes and looking for my cell phone, when I suddenly realized I had forgotten I was dreaming. I quickly went around the side of the barn, where a window was boarded up with plywood. In the corner of it, the light was shining through coming from inside. The soft noise I heard as I approached the window, between the begging, made my stomach roll. I didn’t want to look because I knew what the grunting, heavy breathing meant between the pleas of the young girl. I crouched under it, not knowing what I’d see other than a nightmare in play. Then, slowly rising, I rubbed my eyes before looking, praying that when I ope

My voice echoed in the bathroom as I began to yell in frustration. Did I need to call a priest to come here, find me wacko, and then the town avoid me like some filthy bum on the streets? Like it was my fault? I turned quickly, and the shadow, again, was gone. However, when I faced the mirror this time, my blood ran cold. Steam replaced where I had wiped, and then, as if some invisible finger was floating in the air, I read aloud the words it wrote across my blurred reflection, “Do Not Hear, Do Not Look.” I asked, “Do not hear or look? What the fuck does that mean!?” yelling again, but the house’s response was silence. Whoever or whatever it was left me to figure it out alone. Going to the kitchen after I was dressed, I grabbed more chips and chewed hard. I wasn’t hungry, but I refused to smoke or drink, so it was as close to relieving stress as I could muster. When I was done and the bag of chips had been demolished, I noticed the house got colder as temperatures started to dr