In response to the most recent Word Catalyst Prompt:
The wild graffiti depicting goblins, ghouls, and skulls personified the spirits that supposedly roamed the Olsen Mansion. Newspaper articles had detailed the original crimes committed there and the vigilante justice that followed. When the mob came for him, they found Manfred Olsen standing on the front porch, still in possession of the hatchet that dripped the blood of his own family. Manfred found justice dangling at the end of a noose, while the mutilated bodies of his wife and his infant son were still warm.
Over the following decades there were many claims of mysterious happenings, but none could be substantiated. There was no disputing the horrific things that had happened here, but those murders had been almost a hundred years ago; long since forgotten Jack supposed. Jack’s friend Michael was not completely convinced and this Halloween night Jack intended to prove to him the foolishness of such tales.
The breaking of windows in the mansion seemed to stir the restless spirits that lingered within the decaying walls. Michael reached in his pocket, retrieved three smooth stones and handed them over to Jack. A young boy had to have pretty good aim these days as few windows remained. Jack carefully took aim at the third story and with a grunt released the rock. The projectile entered one of the bare openings and hit the floor with a thud.
“Dang it, I missed.”
Michael handed him another and this time Jack’s efforts were rewarded with the shattering sound of glass as it broke from the pane and fell inside the home.
“I told you those stories were a bunch of crap!” Jack exclaimed. “Did you see anyone at a window; the door swing open and close; Manfred standing on the porch with a noose around his neck? I didn’t think so!”
Michael handed his friend the last rock. “Try one more time—unless you’re chicken, of course.”
Jack ripped the stone from his friend’s hand and whirled it at the third story. Again shattering glass broke the silence of the still night. Jack watched intently for any sign of life for approximately two seconds. That was how long the four inch shard of glass took to fall from the third story and pierce his brain.
Unsure of what had caused him to drop so quickly Michael rushed to his dying friend’s side. Jack’s eyes were wide with terror as he pointed towards the window. Michael looked to third story window where he saw a man casually tossing and catching the rock Jack had thrown. Michael would never forget the man’s satisfied smile or the rope hanging from his neck.