Ohlone College
Creative Writing Stories

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The old wooden house stood about three blocks away from the new shopping center, and across the street from the Space Age apartment complex. That was still under construction, but it was due for the grand opening any day now. There was nothing particularly strange about the old house; it was in fact an absolutely normal everyday wooden house. Yet people avoided it like the plague, the actuality that someone HAD truly died of the plague in that house was beside the point. It was just that people in a town as modern as this one looked at any old structure as a repulsive scar on the face of the planet.

Every so often a new rumor would spread around town about the old house; last week there had been a mentally ill man livening being by his family because of the shame he had brought them, this week it was haunted by the spirit of old lady that was murdered by her husband. This rumor eventually reached the children en route their mother and they spent the week daring each other to knock on the front door or throw a rock through one of the big dusty windows. When after a while nothing exiting happened the kids gave up and went home to tell their "source" that stories like that where for babies, but sure enough the next week they where back again with a fresh interest in their minds and some bigger, heavier rocks for the numerous windows.

This continued for years, each generation came with it's own superstitions, it's own shopping center, and it's own apartment complex. First came Great Grandpa Joe, then Grandma Kathryn, and then Lacey with her two kids Mike and Joel. Whatever happened to the town the house never changed, until Mike and Joel's generation anyway. After that it became old news and it was unanimously decided that it had to go, and go now. After all, the townsfolk just couldn't live without another shopping center and that old wooden house was blocking the road to success. It was just a simple matter of calling the demolition crew and pointing out the house, and then it was as good as gone. Unfortunately for the mayor and his loyal subject, it proved to be much harder then just that.

The first day of demolition was a disaster; the ones hired for this gig did not show. In fact they did not show for any of the jobs they where hired to do that day. The townsfolk where appalled, imagine living for one more day without a new shopping center! It was later reported that the entire demolition crew was killed in an unfortunate accident; their bulldozer was blown to pieces by   self-detonated explosives, the bodies where never found. The town took on day to mourn the bulldozer and hired another crew to handle the job.

The second crew arrived promptly and prescribed explosives to demolish the house, the TNT never exploded and the entire crew was found dead in their beds; apparently they caught a fatal disease on a previous gig. How you could catch a virus from a house no one knew. The next few crews where equally unsuccessful, the house was still standing and the whole crew was dead. Soon no demolition crew in the world wanted to take on that house, that unlucky house, that CURSED house. However, one final offer arrived to save the day; but they weren't cheap.

McFearther's Demolition Company, no old house with a curse could stand in their way. So they where hired as a last desperate attempt to rid that town of that monstrosity, that ugly scar. They arrived at eight o'clock sharp with bulldozers, explosives and demolition balls at hand. McFearther stepped out of one of the bulldozers holding a single stick of dynamite.

"You called us in to tear down that dump?" He spat in the mayor's face, "You said this house was a challenge. An' I don't take kindly to people that WASTE MY TIME!" His megaphone voice hung in the air for a few seconds, echoing all across town.

"Maybe one of the other demolition crews told you it was a difficult house," He continued talking in a relatively calm voice while taking a puff from his cigarette, "Well don't hold with what they tell you. They're all a bunch of SLACKERS!" The last word rang out clearly and the whole crowd took a step back.

Email author Taras

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