The Haunted House of Horrors
This story contains mediocre attempts at horror, foot stuff, torture, and cannibalism.
You have been warned!
It was a warmer fall day in the suburbs, and Carol was checking his mailbox. There wasn’t anyone else out, they were probably inside for lunch. Several white envelopes were pulled from the mailbox and brought back inside. Tossed on the table carelessly, one of the envelopes had fallen on the floor.
“Junk, junk, junk. It’s always junk,” Carol said, moving over to pick up the envelope. All he had been receiving for the last few days was junk or bills. At least the bills had the decency to greet him. However, this envelope was different. “An invitation to the… Haunted House of Horrors? I’ve never seen this around before. Must be a new attraction for halloween.”
Opening the envelope revealed a purple, green, and orange flyer with a small booklet attached to the back. On the flyer, it read, “The Haunted House of Horrors challenge! Test your metal and WIN!!! Think you have what it takes to get through 3 haunted houses, each more horrifying than the last? Fill out our consent form and FIND OUT!!!” Carol looked at the back of the flyer, but it was just a cheaply printed piece of paper, completely white on the other side.
The booklet, however, was not an informational pamphlet, however, it was the consent form. The entire thing was about 20 pages of legal talk, front to back in the smallest font possible. Why would anyone need something this extensive? Regardless, the idea of the haunted houses was a fun one. Carol decided that it was time to hit up one of his friends and see if they’d want to go to the house together.
“Hey Jeff,” Carol said over the phone. “I just got a flyer for a triage of haunted houses. It sounded like fun. Want to come with me?”
“Sure! I just got a flyer for that too. The consent form is pretty lengthy. At least they gave a return envelope, prepaid,” Jeff replied.
“Gotcha. Well, it says it’s only open for one day, so I’ll see you then!”
Carol hung up the phone and looked back to the flyer. Haunted houses were always fun. However, with friends, he could make fun of things and try to play it off like he wasn’t really scared. The consent form was the only thing that was scary now though, as it was really, really long. Allowing actors to touch you, signing away responsibility of any mental health issues this would create, and something that remotely resembled signing away any loss of body parts or life? Against his better judgement, Carol decided to fill out the consent form, seal the envelope, put it back in the mailbox, and then mark the day for the Haunted House of Horrors challenge.
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The day had arrived. Carol’s stomach had been flipping every day he thought about the house. But he couldn’t ghost his friend, that just seemed rude. Hopping in his car and starting it, he drove off to the countryside, following the spotlights that were often in the sky for these events. When he finally made it there, no one else was around.
“Weird… I thought Jeff said he was already here… I guess I’ll wait just a few minutes for him,” Carol said. He was already starting to feel a bit anxious, but with his friend not around, it was only making things worse. He said he was here, had he gone to the wrong place?
After 15 minutes of waiting, Carol had finally had enough. Being stood up by his own friend was one thing, but for a haunted house that they’d planned for? It was almost unacceptable. Mustering up all of his courage, Carol walked into the first haunted house, not quite sure what to expect.
The entirety of the first haunted house was exactly what you would expect. Ghouls, ghosts, and other ghastly figures. Cheap plastic masks, chainsaws that only made noises, and other popular figures that seemed to be nothing more than filler for the actors. The scientific section of the house where there were medical patients rising from their cots and acting like zombies were unsettling, but only that.
“Not so bad, not so bad. Just a classic haunted house. I don’t know what I was so scared of.” Carol almost smiled, dusting himself off. He was flying through these! The haunted houses also had many exits if you were scared, so if he had to, he could leave when he wanted.
The next house was more of the same theme, but the makeup was very on point. The masks of the pigmen almost looked stitched on, and the actors weren’t afraid to get hands on. Many hands touched Carol, shook him to his core, and actually startled him. He was almost screaming when he left. That was one of the scariest things he’d experienced. He almost didn't want to go through with the last one. However, Carol wanted to boast to his friend that he could make it.
This last haunted house was different. It seemed it was an older mansion, themed with the french revolution. Red velvet, blood stains, and guillotines. Blades hanging from the ceiling, and rust on all the chairs. People bushling like in a party, but when they mad eye contact, it was as if they had clowning eyes, and demented faces. This was more unsettling than anything. The eyes followed Carol everywhere he went. Pushing through the crowd, the mansion seemed never ending. The gazes seemed blood thirsty, hungering for flesh. Carol decided to look for an exit now, but he couldn’t find any. Then, as he was pushing through the crowd, he found an opening. The opening had a stage, with a guillotine and an executioner. As Carol found his footing, all eyes were on him, and everyone had stopped moving.
“Welcome, Carol. We’ve been expecting you. Please, join me up here.” The executioner held out his hand. Carol tried to make a run for it, but was walled in by the unmoving crowd. “Don’t make me go down there and get you. You’re just in time for our main event.”
Carol was pushed up the stage by an unseen force, and when he reached the executioner, could barely move on his own.
“We do things a bit different here. Tonight, we’ll dine on your flesh!” The crowd cheered when the executioner motioned to them. Carol was chilled to the bone. “I’ll let you go, but we need one part of you that we can eat. Think of it as a tax.”
“One p-part of me?” Carol asked, and the executioner nodded. Carol wasn’t very fond of having to choose what would be cut off, but he looked down at his shoes. “M-maybe my feet?”
“He has chosen to lose his feet! We will feast on his soles, on his toes!” The executioner shouted to the crowd, eliciting another cheer. He quickly pushed Carol onto the guillotine, and removed the shoes and socks. Carol’s size 7 feet were bare in the cold room through the stocks. The toes curled as they were shown to all in the room. The executioner came over to play with Carol’s feet a bit, using his fingers to tenderize, his tongue to taste test, and eventually, some switches to torment.
“Stop, please stop!” Carol screamed out, trying to hide one sole with the other. He took pride in how soft his feet were, but now they were proving to work against him.
The executioner took no heed, and continued to smack the soft little soles until they had red lines going across them. And then he grabbed Carol’s hand, putting it on the lever. “Pull it.”
Those words made his blood run cold. If this was the only way out of the house, it would have to hurt. Carol pulled the lever, and time seemed to run in slow motion. He watched the blade fall, inch by inch, until eventually, the blade separated his feet from his legs. Carol screamed as the blade took his feet off, starting to feel woozy. The meaty slaps of those delicious feet rang through the air, and the executioner held them up for all to see. Then, the executioner handed them back to Carol.
“Now, I want you to worship them before we feed them to you.” He smiled deviously at Carol, and Carol immediately started on that order. He used his tongue to feel up the slabs of meat, tasting just how salty they were. The feet were still warm, and would still twitch every now and then. “Stay here, we’ll cook them up nice and good for you.”
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Carol was crying slightly, looking at his stumps, but he couldn’t help feeling famished. Was he actually going to eat his own feet? Even now, surrounded in this haunted house, he could already imagine the taste of the meat, salty and gamey. He could almost swear that he was able to smell the feet cooking.
Eventually, the executioner came out with a plate, with golden brown feet and steamed vegetables. Those delicious size 7’s looked divine, and now Carol could hardly wait to dig in. As the plate was laid down in front of him, he tentatively took a stab at the toes. They broke off easily, and he popped the big toe in his mouth. It tasted like heaven, and the juices flowed down his chin. Everyone watched as he devoured the first foot. The sole stripped away like tender pork, and tasted somewhat like it. The other foot was picked to pieces by the others, and quickly, Carol was shipped out of the haunted house in a wheelchair. He may not have his feet, but he definitely had a taste for them now.