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The Fredrickson House

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As her younger brother, Timothy, and his friend, Alexander, played with their toys, fifteen year old Angela sat on the curb, watching them. When she looked at her watch she noticed that she was running late and that she was supposed to bring Timmy home in ten minutes (there was a considerable walk). She quickly stood up and told Timmy to get his toys and to start walking. Timmy begrudgingly agreed and said goodbye to his friend. Angela noticed that Alexander seemed silently happy to have his toys back to himself.

The two started their walk back to their house, with Timmy going over every minuscule detail of his day with Alexander, and with Angela happily nodding- until they pass the Fredrickson's house.

Angela had heard stories about that house. Although she knew they were all lies, the house still made her uneasy. The two had luckily taken the long way to Alexander's house, but they were in a hurry, so they took the short way home.

There were stories, lots of them. The first one (to Angela's knowledge) that was told was that Mr. Fredrickson went insane and killed his wife and child. Another one was that Mrs. Fredrickson was having an affair and killed her husband and daughter to get away from them, but then succumbed to the guilt and offed herself. And there were several more like these. So when Angela passed by the old, two story, tan colored house, all of those stories seemed to flood back to her.

When they were almost completely past the house Angela noticed a dark shadow in the far right window. She turned and looked back- vaguely aware that Timmy was skipping and almost down the block. When she looked at the window the dark shadow remained. For a second Angela thought someone had bought the house, but the glossy green sign with the FOR SALE written on it assured her that it had not been sold.

When Angela was finally able to look away from the dark shadow she could no longer see Timmy. She looked around everywhere but found no sign of him. Finally she got nervous and started running towards the end of the block, calling out his name. When she reached the end of the block she heard a soft chuckle. She turned around but saw nothing, but instead of running to her house hoping she would find Timmy she turned around and followed the sound of the laughter.

The laughter got louder as she got closer to the end of the block (but Angela knew it was coming from the Fredrickson's house, she wasn't sure how she knew, but she did) which only made her more nervous. Finally, when she reached the Fredrickson's house the laughter had wined down to a soft whisper which was almost lost in the wind. She turned and faced the house, and the dark shadow was still their. But this time it had transformed into something much more recognizable, it was a girl.






It was the Fredrickson girl.

Angela struggled to catch her breath, when she finally did she returned her gaze to the girl. Angela had seen pictures of her before, but never met her before. The girl was ten, and Angela was only six when the murders occurred. But, although Angela was unsure about whether or not it really was her, the facial features were too visible to ignore. She had the same long brown (almost black) hair with the same small, skinny body. but her skin was pale white, like a sheet of paper, and her eyes were also covered by her hair. The only thing Angela could tell about them was that they were dark. Darker than her hair, and darker than the unlit halls that surrounded her.

Angela backed away slowly, but stopped dead when she heard Timmy's voice, "Angie? Angie where are you? I'm over here! I'm here!" Angela started walking forward again, towards the Fredrickson's back yard. She was calling out for Timmy, saying,
"Timmy! Timmy where are you? Timmy come out! Please!" The sound of her shaking voice terrified Angela. Then suddenly she saw Timmy's tiny, skinny shadow come out ahead of him. Angela felt her heart beating and could hear it in her ears. She thought it was just some big mistake, and that they would laugh about it later.

Timmy walked out of the backyard and Angela ran at him, grasping him tightly, her tears soaking his baby blue polo shirt their mother had picked out for him for his sixth birthday. Angela almost pulled away at the feeling of how cold her brother was, but she forced herself to hug him. She didn't pull away until she saw Timmy's elbow, at least, a small portion of it. She realized it was pale white, just like the girl in the house. Angela withdrew herself from Timmy and looked at his face. His hair was covering most of it, so she drew it back with her hand, only to see...

His eyes were gone, and the laughter continued.




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