A sneak peek of my upcoming book, Bloodhouse Part II, which will be featured in the novel, Traveler! Note that this sneak peek will not be featured elsewhere and is copyrighted by myself, Karianne Nicole Gabaldon. Please enjoy this sample!​

Bloodhouse, Part II

© 2022 all rights reserved.

By: Karianne Gabaldon 

Disclaimer: All characters or persons in this story is fictitious. The story you are about to read contains horror, slashing, murder, slaughter, gore, profanity, and some sexual content. If you are not okay with any of this, please do not read. Story suggested 18 and up. All rights reserved.

Synopsis:

In the town of Newborough…

Tilda Wilkinson awakens from a long hibernation for more vengeance, but this time nobody is making It out alive. The Needham Mansion is back on the market and Tilda is not having it. Get ready for more gruesome deaths, more evil content, and most of all, more Tilda Wilkinson! May your dreams become your darkest nightmares. Sleep tight!

Chapter One: Sweet Svetlana 

Dahlia Svetlana moved to Newborough on a cloudy, chilly night from Dallas, Texas. She moved away from daddy to spread her wings, little did she know the terror waiting for her. She planted her stay inside the Needham Mansion and though she heard rumors about it being haunted, she had figured they were just rumors. Even if It really were haunted, she would love it. So she cleaned it up a bit and resided in the mansion. But when Dahlia saw Tilda’s face, shit became real…

Earlier That Day…

“I know, daddy. You don’t have to worry about me,” Dahlia laughs. “I will be fine.”

“But, sweetheart. You know I always worry…”

“Yeah, don’t. I’m fine. They’re just rumors!”

“But It’s not just that, doll face. It’s the fact that you’re going to be so far away from me.” he cried.

“I know, daddy,” she picks up her gym back and leaves the gym.

“I just want you here always.”

“I will be with you In spirit. You’ll always have—shit.”

“What?”

“Nothing, I left my wallet inside the gym locker,” Dahlia scoffs.

“You’re so absent-minded…”

“Thank you, father!” 

Dahlia grabs her wallet then exits the gym.

“Was It a good workout at least?”

“Dad, I know what you’re trying to do; you’re trying to stall me and I don’t have time. I’ve gotta go, in leaving in a few hours. I love you.”

“But look at the sky—“

“I love you!”

Dahlia hangs up the phone and sits in her Red and White Striped 1959 Chevrolet Corvette for about 7 seconds; sighs, then drives off. 

Dahlia blasts Ex-Mortis by Ice Nine Kills on her car stereo on her way to the DFW Airport. The DFW, or Dallas Fort Worth, Airport is huge and is easy to get lost in, Dahlia didn’t know that. She usually travels in another airport called Dallas Love Field. It’s a little airport, way much tinier than DFW. When she arrived at DFW, she was completely lost, she didn’t even know where to park. She was keeping her Corvette here in Texas because daddy said he and her mother would drive it there when they came to see her, along with their own car, of course. It’d make it easier on Dahlia.

“Where the fuck am I supposed to be going?! Hello?! Move, asshole!” Dahlia honks her horn.

“Man, this is ridiculous! Why is this airport so huge? And why didn’t I know about it!?”

Dahlia gets to a man in a booth, she immediately asks him for help.

“Yes, ma’am.” he says in a Texan accent.

“Hi. I’m needing to get to Terminal C. Where is that?”

“Just make a U-Turn, sweetie. Then go straight back that way, after you get to the red light, turn right and go straight, then you’ll see the sign for Terminal C.”

“A U-Turn? Is that even allowed here?” Dahlia asks.

“Sure, sweetie. I wouldn’t be saying it if I didn’t mean it. Now get on… get!”

“Okay, okay. I get it, I’m… hogging up the road. I’ll get out of your hair once I make this U-Turn. Thank you…” she read his badge, “Hank.” 

“Don’t mention It, pretty lady.”

Dahlia makes a U-Turn and ends up in the wrong lane. A car comes close by head on and almost hits her. Dahlia swerves and gets on the main road again.

“Fuck you, Hank!” she yells out of her car.

She finally gets to Terminal C, then turns right on the sign.

“Okay, C27… C27… Oh! There’s my gate! C27! I’ve found it! Now how much does this damn parking garage cost?”

Dahlia pulls up at another booth in the parking garage.

“Hello, how are you today?” The woman asks.

“It has been a day!” Dahlia laughs sarcastically.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve been there. 8.27, please.”

“Wait, that’s It? I’m staying here for more than a day…”

“Oh, my bad.”

“Yeah, but my dad is paying the rest of the way.” Dahlia smiles nervously.

“That’s fine. Just tell him to call us. Make sure he has his credit or debit card handy.”

“Sure thing.”

“Oh, and miss…” she looks Dahlia In the eye.

“Yeah?”

“If you’re playing games with me, we have your card information and we will go after you’re ass. Just saying.“

“Hush. It’s okay. Now, open the gate, please.”

“Where are you off to, anyway?” she asks.

“Newborough. I’m staying in the Needham Mansion.”

“Ooh, I wouldn’t if I were you. The place is downright haunted. Scary shit. You’re meaning to tell me that you’re flying all the way out to Newborough? And residing in the Needham Mansion? Why? You’re wasting your time, dear. It’s nothing but—“

“Open the damn gate already!” Dahlia screamed.

“Alright, alright. Good luck.”

The lady opened the gate and Dahlia glared at the lady, then drove through.

Dahlia parked her car and got her things out from her trunk. A man comes walking up.

“Oh, may I help you with your things?” he asks.

“Leave me alone!” She growled.

“Fine. Okay, just wanted to help…”

“I know and I’m sorry. It’s just been a long day.”

“I can see that. I’ll leave now. Goodbye.”

“No, don’t leave—“ he flees and Dahlia hangs her head.

“Well, onward, I guess. It’s time to start a new life. Newborough, here I come!”

Dahlia got inside the airport and was very lost. She had no idea where she was going. She asked many people but they were all either rude, or in too much of a hurry to get to their destination. Dahlia had no other choice; she did what she never hoped she’d do—ask Customer Service. 

Asking Customer Service turned out to be surprisingly easy. Now she’s just awaiting for her flight. Dahlia sits on a dark blue chair that Is dirty, just so happens to have a few spitballs of gum underneath it, and it’s highly uncomfortable; it feels cold and hard. As for the floor, even though it was just waxed about five minutes ago, it is still covered in muddy footprints and baby puke. There’s no telling what else. Dahlia stares at the boarding sign, waiting for them to call her. They finally did.

Dahlia got onto the plane and sat down on Coach. The seats were, once again, uncomfortable; it felt like hers was going to turn loose. They were dark blue, fuzzy, unstable seats with compartments that kept opening. The plane was very old to say the least, so Dahlia’s entire ride was rocky… literally.

“May I please have some grape juice and saltines?” Dahlia catches the stewardess.

“Yes; yes you may. I’ll be back.”

Dahlia softened her pillow and started fall asleep. Then the turbulence happened and she couldn’t sleep at all. This was easily the world’s worst plane flight.

“Thank you,” Dahlia grabbed her grape juice and saltines. 

“You’re very welcome.”

Dahlia had her snack then dozed off for about 15 minutes.

“Attention, passengers. We will be landing here in a few minutes. Please keep fastened and please keep your airplane mode on your phones on. We are pleased to announce that we have arrived safely. Welcome to Newborough, outside Is 65 degrees, please wear a coat. Thank you for boarding with us today on Sunshine Airlines! Have a wonderful day.”

Chapter Two: Welcome To Newborough 

“Hi! I’ve never seen you around before.” a young woman smiled at Dahlia at the Information Center.

“Probably because I just moved here.”

They both chuckled.

“I’m Dahlia.”

“I’m Blevins. Welcome to Newborough.”

“Thanks for the warm welcome. I think I’ll like it here.”

“You will. It’s nice. Just… do us all a favor and steer clear of the Needham Mansion. Not just for your sake but for ours. We don’t need any nasty demons awakening in the middle of the night. It won’t just affect you if you awaken those demons, it’ll affect the rest of us, too. We’ll all suffer. I’m sorry… I have to tell everyone new to town this very same thing.” she chuckles.

“Oh, no you’re fine. I’m sorry, too.”

“Oh, don’t be sorry. Why are you sorry?”

“Because I deliberately disobeyed you. I’m moving into the Needham Mansion. Oops. Well, I guess I should go unpack my shit. See ya, Bible Thumper Blevins!”

Dahlia skipped off with her town map, leaving Blevins scratching her head and glaring at Dahlia.

Dahlia had a U-Haul follow her and the Uber driver to the Needham Mansion. When they arrived, there were stars In Dahlia’s eyes.

“Wow.” Dahlia jumped out of the Uber, paid the driver, then rushed inside.

Everything still looked the same as it was only a little older; the same beautiful diamond chandelier, the same stairs, the same living chair that Frankie sat upon the night he murdered Tilda Wilkinson. Dahlia went upstairs to the bedroom and sat on the bed, bouncing.

“Dude… this bed is rough. Thank God I have my bed. I’ll get rid of all this old, gross furniture that’s been around since the 1920’s.”

Tilda’s skeletal, bruised, and cut hands crept out from under the bed. They tried grabbing Dahlia’s feet, but Dahlia ended up getting up off the bed just in time. The closet was wide open and read in blood, ‘Get out now while you still can — here you are not wanted.’ but Dahlia ignored that, too. She never even noticed the closet.

Dahlia made her way to the bathroom. 

“It’s so huge!”

She looked Inside the bathtub and noticed a doll. She picked it up and dropped It immediately once she noticed maggots crawling all over it.

“What a creepy-ass doll. Whomever you belonged to must’ve been a psychopath. I mean, you’d kind of have to be in order to own a doll like that,” Dahlia said as she got the chills.

Dahlia looked all over the bathroom ceiling and noticed how filthy It was and how many spiders and spider eggs were everywhere.

“All right. You talked me into it, Gaya. Let’s clean this house up!”

As Dahlia was cleaning up the place, she had wished she met some friends along the way to help her. Of course, it’s not like they’d befriend her anyway. They’d all think the same thing just like everyone else does—it’s haunted. They want nothing to do with that house. So, Dahlia fixed It up on her own; she even put in her own furniture to give it more of a modern touch. But boy, did it piss Tilda off!

“If only they could see it now. I’ve been in this house for over 12 hours and nothing has jumped out at me. This place is not haunted. They’re pussies is what they are. Well. I guess It’s time to get some grocery shopping done so my home can be complete!

Before Dahlia could get groceries, she had to go to the bank. She went to a bank called Clint Wells and stood in line for awhile.

“About this line, huh?” a man behind her spoke to her.

“What? Oh. Yeah. Ha.”

“I’m Jean Paul.”

“Dahlia.”

They shook hands.

“You’re new to this town.” Jean Paul observed.

“Yeah, I am.” she smiled.

“Yeah, I would remember a beautiful, striking face like yours if I’d seen you before.”

Dahlia chuckles and smiles.

“Where are you residing?” he asks.

“Um…” Dahlia looks over her shoulder.

“What is It, beautiful?”

“It’s just that… you’re not going to be friends with me if I tell you…”

“Why do you think—oh! Because you live In the Needham Mansion!”

Dahlia nods sadly.

Jean Paul laughs, “darling… sweetheart… I adore that you live in the Needham Mansion! I love that you’re not afraid to take risks. And above all, don’t give a flying fuck about what anyone else thinks. I love that about you! Hey. Let’s go back to your place. I’m hankering for some ghosts anyway,” Jean Paul winks.

“Oh, that’s wonderful to hear! Thank you. But I’ve gotta do some grocery shopping first.”

“Great! I’ll help ya!”

“Okay, sounds great.”

After their grocery shopping, Dahlia and Jean Paul came back to the Needham Mansion.

“Sit anywhere you’d like, Jean Paul.”

Jean Paul sits down on the brown leather sofa which reclines in both ends and has a fold-out bed in the middle. Dahlia was putting away her groceries as Jean Paul sat down.

“Shit, where are my manners. Would you like some help, Dahlia?”

“No,” she laughs. “relax, hon. You’re the guest.”

“Well. How was your day? We can still talk, right?”

“Of course! My day was wonderful! Except for the cleaning and fixing up,” Dahlia chuckles. “how about yours?”

“Uneven.”

“Uneven?”

“Uneven. Unrealistic. Unbelievable.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I met the most unbelievable woman of my life.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Dahlia rolls her eyes.

“Okay.”

Dahlia laughs.

“You’re cute.” she says.

“So are you.”

Dahlia finishes putting the dishes away then walks over and sits down in the middle of the couch next to Jean Paul. 

“Can you believe this sofa?” asked Dahlia.

“Not at all! I mean, two recliners at the end, then a fold-out bed In the middle? Crazy!”

Dahlia chuckles.

“Not what I mean, sugar. I meant can you believe this sofa hasn’t been used? We’d be the first ones…if you wanted to…”

“Used.. oh my God, I’m getting some?” His face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“You’re getting it all!”

Dahlia pounced on top Jean Paul, ripped his shirt open then licked his tan, chiseled body from top to bottom. She bit his lip and yanked It with her teeth as he kissed her neck. She then kissed his lips ever so harshly and massaged his tongue with hers. He unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, stuck it In and they both moved their bodies until they both climaxed. Dahlia had a full-body orgasm. She shook and shivered. 

“Are you okay, Dahlia?” Jean Paul asked.

“I’m more than okay, I just had a full-body orgasm. Best sex ever.”

“Amazing. Because I’ve got more tricks up my—“

Then a loud thump came from the bedroom.

“Dahlia?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing. If the rumors were true, don’t you think something, or someone would have made themselves known by now?”

“You’re probably right. But just in case. Let’s check it out?”

Dahlia scoffs.

They head upstairs to the bedroom and find a card on the bed. 

“Read it.” Jean Paul tells Dahlia.

Dahlia picks up the card. The card read the name: Serenity Bluff.

“Serenity! That’s my sister. How did she get in here? Huh. Sneaky shit. Read the card!” Jean Paul smiles, antsy.

“Dear brother,

It looks like you’ve found your one.

Treat her with love and respect or I’ll pin you to a wall.

I snuck in here, the back door was open.

Hope you don’t mind.

Well, I love you brother.

I left you some fun stuff hidden underneath your bed.

Have some fun… or else.”

“Ah. So that’s what the thump was.”

“Jean Paul—look! We’ve got sex toys! Do you want to use them now?” asked Dahlia.

“Yes, I do!”

They both jumped into bed, but as they did, they noticed all of the lights turn off. They looked at each other. Then a shadowy figure came levitating from the ceiling. It was none other than Tilda Wilkinson. 

“How dare you disturb my slumber, and how dare you destroy my house, and how dare you reside here! This is my house! This is where I live!”

“I’m sorry, I’ll move. First thing in the morn—“

“Silence! And you touched my doll, Hezebiah. Did you not…?”

“Well, yes, but—“

“And you didn’t believe them… you should have ran, my child. But you didn’t. Now you’re going to pay.”

“I’m sorry…” Dahlia cried, shaking and scared, in disbelief of what is going on.

“I fucking warned you!” Tilda screamed in a dark, satanic growl.

Then their wrists were tied to the bed with barbed wire, the barbed wire slowly moving towards their wrists more and more, starting to cut off their circulation.

“Please, what do you want?” Jean Paul asked.

“I want your dirty, filthy soul!” Tilda screamed.

“And you’re gonna take the both of us?” Dahlia asked.

“No, my child. Just him. I want to keep you alive for more torture sessions.”

“What!?” Dahlia cried.

“Let’s just say you’re never leaving this house!” Tilda laughs crookedly.

“I regret ever getting to know you, Dahlia. Because if I never did, I’d never be this predicament!”

“Fuck you, Jean Paul.”

The barbed wire started to constrict their wrists even more. Until…

“Son of a—“ Jean Paul screamed as both his wrists got cut off by the barbed wire.

“You like my tricks, Jean Paul? This makes me so glad…”

“How can you be glad, you fucking bitch! You don’t have a heart!” Jean Paul yells.

“Oh. Oh! You are so finished!”

Tilda throws machetes at Jean Paul, pinning him to the the wall.

“You wrote that card, Tilda! Serenity didn’t write it at all!”

“Be grateful you’re alive. I’m coming back for you when you least expect it. Oh. And yes, I did write the card.”

Tilda, then, disappears.

Dahlia calls her dad right away.

“Hello, sweetheart.” Daddy answers. 

“Dad, something is off with this house, you were right. A demon lives here and she’s not letting me leave! Please daddy, call someone! She’s real; Tilda is real. Dad? Dad—”

Soon another voice picked up.

“Don’t ever speak my name, child. You’re cursed now. See you in hell.” Tilda hung up the phone as Dahlia broke down and cried. 

Dahlia banged on the front door and tried opening it, but the doorknob she touched ended up catching on fire as she put her left hand on it. It gave her a 3rd degree burn on her hand.

“Oh my God! Somebody please help! Somebody! Please!” Dahlia banged on the door even harder.

“You’re not helping yourself, you know that, right? Nobody can hear you, child. You’re all alone.” Tilda grew a wicked smirk on her face as she floats down to the floor from the ceiling.

“I’m dreaming; this isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t fucking real! You hear me? You’re a figment of my imagination. You’re not real! Now leave!”

Tilda laughs loudly.

“Of course I’m real, you idiot! And there’s nothing you can do about it,” Tilda blew Dahlia a kiss and winks.

“What do you want from me?” Dahlia cried.

I want to disembowel you; I want to take your insides and nail them to my bedroom wall. I could tell you were special from the moment you arrived. I wanted you so bad… and then you went and fucked up my furniture and moved it around, and now you slander my name! You stupid, stupid girl!”

“Whoa, wait—I did not, in any way, slander your name. I called you by your name and that’s it!”

“Yes, child. You slandered my name.”

“So, what’re you gonna do with me, err, demon?”

“I’m going to force you to choose defeat. This ain’t your lucky day.”

“Can I please call my dad first?”

“No!” she screamed.

“I’m sorry…”

“No. You’re not. But you’re going to be!” Tilda laughs.

“Why? What are you gonna do to me?”

Tilda starts humming Jesus Loves Me while brushing Hezebiah’s hair.

“Hello?!”

 “Little ones to him belong…”

Dahlia stares wide-eyed at Tilda.

“You are weak but I am strong!!!” Tilda screams.

Tilda picks up a couch and attempts to throw it at Dahlia; Dahlia moves and Tilda laughs.

“You seriously think you can escape me?!” 

“I don’t wanna die!” cried Dahlia.

“It’s the end for you…”

Tilda left, Dahlia looks around the place. About 30 seconds later, Tilda shows up again with a chainsaw and decapitates Dahlia, then disembowels her.

Her ever-shrieking voice breaking up once Tilda hit her soft, light-skinned neck, then Tilda saws apart Dahlia’s body, taking out her organs and hanging them in her closet wall to scare the next guests. Dahlia’s body dragged into the attic where Tilda resided, lying Dahlia with the rest of Tilda’s deceased victims. Though Dahlia died that night, there is a heavy part of her that still lives on in The Needham Mansion, just like all of the other dead souls. Months went by and her body started rotting; maggots feast on her young, slender body. Tilda lies safe in the attic, away from disturbance. There was nobody else who enter the mansion, until five years later. There was finally somebody who thought they could take in Tilda. Well, clearly, what the hell were they thinking?

Chapter Three: The Basement

Years later, an older woman named Samantha now resides in The Needham Mansion. She had scared everyone off from the stories and she liked It that way; she enjoyed the peace and serenity. But, one day two teenage girls decided that they wanted to prove to everyone that The Needham Mansion wasn’t really haunted. So they did. They came up to Samantha’s doorstep and rang her doorbell.

“Do you think this is it?” asked Kayla.

“Obviously, Kayla. Look at the sign back there at the end of the road.” Farrah rolled her eyes.

“Oh. Duh!” Kayla hits herself in the face with her palm.

Farrah laughs, “well? Ring the doorbell, hooker!”

Kayla rings the doorbell.

“Hello? Anyone home?” Kayla asks.

Kayla rings the doorbell again.

“Look, Kay. Obviously they don’t want visitors.”

Then, Samantha Margaret opens the door with a scary mask on, the mask being nothing but white but somehow still scary.

“Who dares bother me home!”

“No girls, wait!” She takes off her mask. “I’m human. See?”

“So all of that stuff about this place being haunted—that was all poppycock?” asked Farrah.

“Yes,” Samantha laughs,”now how about some tea, ladies?”

“Yes, please!” exclaimed Farrah.

“Farrah, what’re you doing—we don’t know this lady!” whispered Kayla.

“Come on, Kay. It’s just tea.”

“Whatever.” Kayla rolled her eyes.

Kayla sit at the kitchen table while Samantha pours them their tea.

Farrah looks around then says, “wow! Your place Is no nice and well put together. I expected it to look more—“

“Haunted?” Samantha chuckles, “It’s okay. Everybody else feels the same. That’s why I invite them in; to let them know that this is a welcoming place, not an evil place. Nobody resides here but me and my three cats, and we’re as nice as mice. Well, maybe not mice for my cats eat mice,” Samantha laughs.

“So what is your name again?” asked Kayla.

“Oh, where are my manners? My name is Samantha Margaret; these are my three cats: Stoney, Tryla, and Theodore. My babies are next up to have this throne after their dear old mama dies. Yep, I already have them in the deed,” Samantha smiled.

“And when will that be? Your death day? Are you going to die first, or do you just murder all of your victims that knock on your door first and then once you’re satisfied with that you’ll die? Because I’m very-“

“Kayla, Shh! Samantha, I’m sorry!” Farrah whined.

“No, that’s quite all right. She has every reason to be worried, love.” Samantha smiles.

Kayla glares back at Samantha.

“Well, I’m Farrah, and this little rascal goes by Kayla.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both. I have some stew cooking in the pot over there if you two would like to stay for dinner?” asked Samantha.

“No, thanks. I think we really better get going. Thank you so much for the tea, though. Come on, Kayla.” Farrah and Kayla both got up from their chairs.

“No, I really think you should be staying…”

Samantha, then, grabs a hot kettle from the stove with her right hand and hits them both in the head with the kettle, knocking them out completely.

Samantha brought them down in the basement where both girls are constricted by electrical cords on wrists, ankles, arms and legs so they do not escape. They sit upon upside down metal buckets. There are no lights In this basement but there Is a small rectangular window with a bright sun ray shining through. There Is nothing in the basement but a few cleaning supplies, a sink full of water with a mirror and a few boxes. The door from the basement to the inside of the house is locked by chains. The two girls eventually woke up.

“What… the hell…” Farrah rubbed her head and looked around.

“Farrah?!” Kayla cried.

“Kay… it’s alright, boo. I’m right here.”

“We have to figure out a way out of here. Let’s search around the room…” 

“Good idea, Kay.”

Kayla looks around then spots a mop.

“There’s a mop next to you, Farrah. Can you reach it?”

Farrah tries to grab the mop with her left arm and fails.

“No! Hooker! Your leg!”

Farrah tries to grab mop with left leg and fails.

“Fuck!” cried Kayla.

“What’re we going to do, Kay?”

I don’t know—wait this house is haunted…”

“What’s your point?”

“There’s gotta be an evil spirit we can summon or some shit!”

Farrah laughs.

“You’re hilarious. Let’s keep looking! Come on, we’re wasting time!”

Kayla stares at Farrah.

“Oh my God. You’re serious.” Farrah sighs. “Well, it’s a stupid as fuck idea, but let’s try it. Anything is worth a shot.”

“Okay, so how do we do this?” Kayla asks.

“I’m just as lost as you are, sweetheart. Hey, wait. You’re a badass poet. Why not try summoning the demon with your poetry? After all, aren’t séances all about that shit?”

“Hmm, I’ll try…” Kayla clears her throat. “Spirits, spirits, altogether, come embrace this sunny weather! That worked, right? Because the weather is sunny?”

“We’ll have to see, Kay.” Farrah was unsure about the summoning, whether or not Kayla did it right. Sure enough, it didn’t work.

“Try it again, bae.” Farrah still had faith in her.

Kayla let’s out a deep breath.

“I call upon to the near deceased, I’m sorry to have disturbed your peace.” Kayla was confident that this one would work.

“Ooh, that one was chilly; I felt it!” Farrah shook.

Then, the basement doors start shaking vigorously.

“Oh my God, that’s her! That’s Samantha! We’re going to die, Farrah, we’re going to die!”

“As if a demon could have saved us anyway. Dumb idea!” Farrah exclaimed.

“I love you, Farrah.”

“I love you, Kayla.”

The doors open and Samantha comes out.

“Hi, guys! So it looks like you’re my next victims, yes? Alright! So, how do you want to go! Oh you want me to be in control? You’re sweet! I made sure that I kept your mouths uncovered for the time being so you both could have your final goodbyes to each other. So I guess I’m sweet too. Yea! That’s amazing! Well, what is in our agenda for today, hmm? Well… I have this sink, and it’s full of water. It’s a clue. I’m not using it. But it’s a clue. Do you know what it is? I feel like you’re really going to enjoy this special surprise!” 

“ARE YOU THAT DISSATISFIED WITH YOUR LIFE THAT YOU MUST MAKE OTHERS MISERABLE?” ASKED FARRAH.

“YEAH, SH-SHAME ON YOU,” REPLIED KAYLA.

“This is a sink full of water. No, I will not be using this particular sink full of water. However, I will be using water from my gardening hose and fun little toys I call electrical outlets, which I will be plugging your cords into,” Samantha chuckles.

Both girls become catatonic; Samantha picks up gardening hose.

“This is so much fun, guys! Don’t you think so? I think this is—“ Samantha was rudely interrupted by a Newborough fan favorite.

Tilda came in through the mirror, busting the glass, glass flying everywhere. 

“Here’s to bitches that won’t quit!” Tilda growled as the girls were no longer catatonic but now in awe of Tilda; Samantha’s jaw had dropped.

Tilda took an electrical cord, constricts Samantha’s neck, then plunges her head in the sink to the point Samantha drowns; Tilda squeezes the end of her cord harder and harder and her head decapitates from loss of circulation due to the cord around her neck. 

“H-h-hi. Are you-you-you going to k-kill us?” asked Kayla.

“Leave my mansion! Leave it now, I say! Never return! Because, if you return, I will kill you! I’ll fucking devour your insides!” yelled Tilda.

“Okay, okay!” yelled Farrah.

The two girls fled, never to return again.

Chapter Four: Fire!

Cortana Armstrong was a beautiful young woman; soft, medium platinum blonde hair which Is always up in a ponytail, deep, dark blue-green ocean eyes, a chiseled face with the perfect small nose to the point and nostrils the size of peas, perfectly shaped, thin, dirty blonde eyebrows, thick, voluptuous lips which made her irresistible to men, fairly large cheekbones and a pencil neck. Her body was gorgeous, too—she had a slender body yet DD breasts and an ass that would send any man to the moon. But what really got the men staring was her eyes. Her eyes, well, to say people got lost in them would be an understatement. This very young woman was gorgeous. She was 21 but very smart. She was working on her career as a writer when she stumbled upon a beautiful mansion in Newborough: The Needham Mansion. She saw a For Sale sign and just had to call the number. She wasn’t interested in buying it for she had already had a home, she just thought If she looked inside and had a peek, she’d be satisfied and she’d know what it looked like inside; she was dying to know… literally.

Cortana called the realtor, Sheila Wilkinson.

“Hello?” a voice picked up the phone.

“Hi. Is this Sheila?” asked Cortana in a thrilled voice.

“Who’s asking?”

“Oh,” Cortana chuckled. “This is Cortana Armstrong. I’m trying to look at a house?”

“Ah. The Mansion. Darling, nobody has been in that house for years.” Sheila explained.

“Well, can I at least look at it? It’s on the market for some reason.”

Sheila lets out a big sigh.

“Yeah. Fine. I’m busy, but I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay, um, how soon Is ‘soon’? Because I have somewhere I need to be.”

Sheila scoffs.

“About 15 minutes. Jesus!” Sheila then hangs up the phone.

“Damn.” Cortana waited about 21 minutes, then Sheila finally arrived.

“Hi, are you Sheila Wilkinson?” asked Cortana as she held out her hand.

“I am,” Sheila said irritated as she walked right past her.

“It’s a nice mansion. I would love to live here someday.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Sheila muttered under her breath.

“What’s that?” Cortana asked.

“Nothing,” Sheila grinned.

“No, I’m pretty sure you said something.”

“Well, here’s The Needham Mansion!” Sheila opened the door.

“Wow! It’s beautiful In here!” exclaimed Cortana, in awe of the place.

“Let me, uh, show you around.”

“Sure!” 

“This is the study.”

“Ooh!”

Then, the books flew off the bookshelf, Cortana screamed.

“Oh, no reason to be alarmed, dear. This happens all the time,” Sheila explained as she started picking up the books.

The computer turned on by itself and Cortana gasped.

“I’ve gotta get out of here!” 

“You’re not going anywhere…” Sheila told Cortana.

The doors locked, the windows sealed, and Cortana was in trouble.

“Little child, little child, look I have found you…” Tilda enters the room through the wall.

“Oh my God… oh my God… oh my God!”

“God’s not here!” Tilda laughs.

“I can’t believe this!” Cortana yells.

“Well, believe it, child. I believe you’re in for the ride of your life!”

“Please spare me. I only came In to look at the house. I came in by happenstance.”

“Didn’t they all?” Tilda chuckles.

“Please, please. Please! I’ll do anything!”

“You were just at the wrong place at the wrong time, weren’t you child?”

“Yes!” Cortana cried.

“But you happened to stumble in my grounds, and this I cannot forgive!”

“Why are you so spiteful?”

“Has your daddy ever murdered you with an axe when you weren’t doing anything wrong?”

“Um, clearly not.”

“Well that’s what happened to me, so I don’t give a fuck about being here by accident! You shall pay for your damage!” Tilda exclaimed.

“I just don’t want to die…”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that plea before. Suck it up, princess.“

“I think you’re spiteful because you’re an ugly monster and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Now you really will pay!”

Tilda set the floor where Cortana was standing on fire as she levitated; Cortana screaming and Tilda humming Jesus Loves Me, full song as Cortana’s flesh burns from her bones.

The Needham Mansion was peaceful for years. But ten years later, people appeared again.

Chapter Five: Donnie Of The Dead

Donnie, a 27-year-old male who stumbled upon The Needham Mansion on a warm summer’s day, was very careless about his life. He really didn’t care about living or dying, he was just that way. But since he had found the mansion, he figured he might as well open it and see what lies in store.

He turned the brass knob ever so slightly to the left, creaking the white, wooden front door loudly, leaving an echo of mystery. Donnie walked inside slowly, gazing at the majesty of the mansion. And since it was abandoned, the place was all his… or was it?

“This place is the shit. I can’t believe this! I must call my wife!”

Donnie picked up his phone to call his significant other, but his phone screen just so happened to have gone blank; his entire phone screen was pure white. 

“Strange,” he said quietly. 

He kept trying to fix his phone, then tried to exit the mansion for assistance on it. Of course, Tilda had other plans. She locked him in from the inside. He was screwed.

“What the hell is this?! What’s going on?! Is someone there?” he asks.

“Why yes!” An echo came from upstairs.

“Who are you?” Donnie asked.

“Why I’m Tilda,” she said as she slowly floated down to the first floor. “It’s nice to meet you. I hope I’m not disturbing your plans?”

“Um,” he gulps. “No. N-not really.”

“Good. Well, I’d hate to be frank, but you’re destroying mine!”

“Oh, uh, do you want me to leave?”

Tilda laughs.

“Torturing you would be more fun!”

“Um… huh?”

“That’s right!” Tilda laughed. “May today be your last!”

Then Donnie thought real hard about it, and maybe somebody was playing a prank on him.

“Promise?” Donnie chuckled.

“Oh? You don’t think I’m real, do you?” Tilda came closer.

“Of course you’re not real. You’re a fucking hologram!”

“Well… is this real enough for you?!” Tilda slaps his face. 

Donnie’s eyes widen.

“Uhh…”

“And is this real enough for you?!”

Tilda vomits black, sticky, foul-smelling tar all over Donnie.

“Uhh…” he starts shaking as tears rush down his face.

“And guess what, Donnie Boy?”

“Um… uh, what?” he cries.

“You’re gonna die tonight.” Tilda blows in his face, breath smelling of rusted copper.

All is silent and Donnie just stares at Tilda for about 12 seconds, then he bangs on the door behind him.

“Help me! Fucking help me!”

Tilda laughs, “nobody can hear you, child! Just give up the ghost. Or, me.” she laughs again.

“Please, please! I’m sorry I thought you were fake!” Donnie cried.

“This isn’t about thinking I was fake, doll. This is about disturbing my peace! Now… as I watch you stand and cry, it’s pathetic, now you die!”

“Wait!” He yells. 

Tilda holds the axe in the air, sighs.

“What…?”

“You don’t want me. You want my friend, Walter. Last week, he tore up your roses!”

“What roses, child?”

“The roses! In your backyard?” Donnie’s voice grew weaker.

“Nonsense! Now you’re just stalling! There are no roses! And if there were, they’re dead now—just like you!” 

Tilda laughs an evil, crooked, eerie laugh as she lays the axe into the middle of Donnie’s head and splits his entire body in half. Blood going at it like two lions fighting for a scrap of meat, flying all over the entry way of The Needham Mansion. After Tilda was finished with him, he looked snazzy; his organs falling out of place, but Tilda loved him just that way. She threw him up back in the attic with the rest of them, leaving his dead body to rot.

Tilda lie flat on her back and let out a long, happy sigh for a job well done.

Chapter Six: Don’t Wake The Demon…

A 5’5”, natural fire engine red-headed, Hazel-eyed bombshell came to Newborough for a family gathering. It was Thanksgiving time and she lived miles away in Cincinnati. She brought pumpkin pie on the trip and headed towards her family’s home in Newborough, on the same street as The Needham Mansion, just not near as creepy. This woman was fine from her head down to her toes; she was slightly curvy, a chiseled face, long, thick, and flowing hair, lashes so long they’d give an old man a heart attack, thin eyebrows, and thick, voluptuous lips. This woman was clearly beautiful, but she didn’t think so. In fact, this woman was very abusive towards herself; she was a cutter. She didn’t just cut, though, she slashed. She had gashes all over her body from her damage. Being only 22 years young, she was awfully experienced in life. Absinthe Mortez—your best dream, but also your worst nightmare.

“Hey, Absinthe!” Absinthe’s mother shouted.

“Hi, mom. I brought pie! It’s pumpkin!” 

“Ooh! Put It on the table over there next to the others! Where’s the mister?” she asked.

“There is no mister,” Absinthe chuckled as she walked over to put the pumpkin pie on the table.

“What?! Why not?”

“I don’t—I just—mom, I’m not ready for a relationship. Men, well, they’re kind of a drag.” Absinthe added.

“Oh, honey, but don’t you want kids?”

Absinthe opened her jaw wide and placed her finger by her tongue.

“Come on, Abby, I want to be Granny Angela Mortez someday!”

“And I want to be kid-free! Look at one of us get what we want in life, isn’t that pleasant!”

“Oh, you’ll change your mind. I promise.” Angela winked.

“Doubt it.”

A distant cousin then approached Absinthe from behind.

“Abby!”

Absinthe knew right away who it was, Angela shrugged her shoulders and walked away onto someone else.

“Hi, Megan!” Absinthe turned around and hugged her.

“So, I couldn’t help but overhear you’re still single?” She slightly chuckled. “Why?”

“Well, if you heard that I’m still single single then you obviously heard why…” Absinthe deadpanned.

“I know it’s just—I’m sorry. You’re how old? Girl, get in the game! I have a 2 month old and I’ve been married for six months!”

“Congratulations?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Megan sighs. “Hey, you didn’t come to my wedding!” she says In baby talk.

“I never got an Invite.”

“What? Absurd! Hey, honey!” Megan yells.

“What?” Eric answers from across the room.

“Did we give Absinthe an invitation to our wedding?”

“Who?”

“Absinthe—Abby—her!” Megan points at Absinthe.

“Oh! I don’t know her!” He then continues to talk to Absinthe’s grandfather.

“Dammit, Eric. I’m sorry, Abs. I guess it’s because Eric apparently doesn’t know you. And Its my fault.” she says as she hangs her head.

“Hey. It’s fine. I’m sure I didn’t miss anything anyways.”

“Well, ya did. But…”

“No, no, I’m sure I didn’t.”

Then, Angela gets up from the couch and exclaims,

“Let’s eat!”

They all gathered around the table and sat down with their meal. 

After dinner was done. everybody pitched In with cleaning up the kitchen and the dining room, even the men. Absinthe was shocked because she’d never seen a man actually pick up after himself before. Her dad was a loser and very lazy. She and her mom did all of his chores. He’s gone now; he left her mother three years ago when her mother decided to live for her daughter. Absinthe’s father despised her. He constantly bullied her for no reason, literally kicking her when she was down. Nobody ever saw it as a bad thing or abuse, they all just saw it as he was just messing with her. But It bothered her. And once her mother realized It was more than just a game and confronted the situation, he bolted. He wanted nothing to do with anyone in the family anymore. He always had something to say for why she doesn’t work and that she’s so lazy, when she couldn’t work, she was on SSI. But his excuse was he had a job; because he did. He ran his own business. But at home, he was a complete slob. He did nothing. So no matter what, she will always think that all men are trash, because after all, she was raised by trash. 

“Wow! I think it’s amazing that all of you are helping out!” Absinthe praised Eric.

“Thanks, I’m just doing it because my wife made a deal with me that afterwards, if the dishes are up to par, then we can go to The Needham Mansion. I’ve been begging her, but she’s chicken shit,” he laughed. 

“The Needham Mansion—oh you mean that mansion I saw coming in? That place looks scary and sketchy as shit!”

“Right? I love it!” Eric exclaimed.

“Well, you do you, son.”

“Hey, you wouldn’t be interested?”

“No. Not my thing. But thanks!”

“Yep. Absinthe is it?”

“Got it!”

“Sweet! Well our next baby, I’ll be sure to send you an Invitation to the shower. That wouldn’t be weird, right? Because Im a man?” Eric tugged his shirt, suddenly flushed.

“Not at all,” Absinthe chuckled.

“Okay, well, the dishes look done. I’m grabbing my wifey and we are outta here!”

“You go! You… go!” Absinthe raised her fist.

The two left for The Needham Mansion while everybody else left as well, except for Absinthe; she and Angela sat on the 70’s style yellow suede sofa, watching Bob’s Burgers.

“I can’t believe you like this show, mom.” Absinthe stared at the television but moved her eyes slightly over to Angela.

“You don’t? I thought you did?”

“I mean I do, it’s just. You’re so old.”

“Old?” Angela chuckles.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, but Linda is just so funny.”

“And Tina… and Gene…” Absinthe added.

“Very much so. Do you know when the lovebirds will be back?”

“Mom, they’re probably not coming back here. They’re probably going home.”

“No, sweetie. It’s a long drive. Longer than yours. They live in Pasadena. They’re staying here short term just like you. They said they’ll be back soon so I’m just wondering.”

“K.” Absinthe said lazily.

Angela got up from the couch and looked out of the blinds.

“Nope, not seeing ‘em. Damn, I’m getting worried. I’ve heard terrible, terrible things about that place.”

“I’m sure they’re just rumors,” Absinthe said in a daze, focused on the television.

“Well, I’m not sleeping until they come home!”

“Mom. It’s eight o’clock!”

“Yeah? So?”

“So, you have plenty of time to sleep. It’s still early.”

“But I sleep at eight. That’s my bedtime!”

“Eew, you are old! Gross, mom!”

“Shut your mouth. I guess I’ll stay up until those kids come home. I’m really worried about—“

“No! Kids?! Did you really just say kids! Mom, you’ve been alone for far too long!”

“Oh, and look at you, Absinthe! You’re 22 and have only had one boyfriend; two dates! And he broke your heart!”

“Ow. Okay, well, maybe I’m going to bed. Goodnight!” Absinthe storms off to the hallway.

“Abby… come on, you know I didn’t mean—“

“Goodnight, mom!” Absinthe slams the door.

Chapter Seven: What Were You Expecting?

“It really is creepy in here,” Megan noted.

“If you’re that scared, go.” Eric said rudely.

“I’m not scared, Im just making an observation is all.”

Eric scoffs.

“What?” Megan snapped.

“You’re killing my vibe, just… go. Off with you.”

“Yeah? Where am I to go? Hmm?”

“To another room, I guess. Choice Is yours.”

Megan glared at Eric; Eric continued to look around downstairs and Megan went upstairs.

Megan found the study room and was at peace. She picked up a book she wasn’t familiar with and started to read it. Meanwhile…

Eric downstairs sat on the armchair and relaxed. Soon enough, he heard a thump coming from the loveseat in his peripheral view. He looks over. The loveseat then levitates. His eyes widen and he begins sweating profusely. Tilda jumps out; Eric loses control of his breathing and his pulse is now 205 BPM. He tries to scream but he has nothing in him—Its like his body was just too traumatized to even speak. Instead, he just watched her. He opened his mouth and kept trying to scream, but it never worked. 

“Well, I should be the one screaming, sweetheart. You are in my house after all! And you’re in my daddy’s armchair. Don’t you know? Haven’t you ever heard the story about Tilda Wilkinson?”

Eric shakes his head rapidly.

“Shame on them for not telling you, because look at where are you are now. It’s not fair, is it? It’s all their fault that you’re about to die…”

He jumps up and Tilda Immediately wraps him to the chair with plastic wrap by force.

“No… we don’t disobey here.”

All of a sudden, a female voice yells, “Eric! This place is so cool!”

Eric starts moving, trying to escape.

“Ooh, we have more company.” Tilda stares at Eric. “Eh, I’ll just finish you off. Why not.”

Tilda uses her demonic force to constrict Eric’s body slowly with the plastic wrap. All of his organs slowly smash together as he gasps for air and develops brain hypoxia. His body finally gives out when it pops and organs fly out; luckily they were wrapped in plastic wrap.

“Where are you?” asks Megan. “I’m sorry about our fight. Please forgive me.”

She walks around the downstairs then heads towards the living room.

“Babe, I think we should go. You proved your—“

Then she beheld her deceased husband of six months wrapped in plastic wrap, sitting in an armchair. What does she do? What any woman would do—she screams her head off. Yep. Right when she screamed, Tilda came up from behind her and decapitated her. That’s what I call true love.

Meanwhile, at Angela’s…

“Abby, I’m sorry!” Angela knocks on Absinthe’s guest room door.

“Mom, that was hurtful. Let me be mad. You get some sleep, you’re old!”

“Would you stop calling me old?! You’re gonna be my age one day, by the way! And your daughter, or son, is gonna call you old!”

Absinthe opens the door.

“Mom, how many times do we have to go through this? I’m not having children! I’m not getting married! I am a free spirit; I do not belong in a cage!” 

“Fine, Absinthe. But like I said, you will change that precious mind of yours someday.” Angela rubs Absinthe’s head.

“Cut it out!”

“When are they getting back?” asked Angela.

“Any time now, now would you go to bed?”

“No can do; Ive gotta wait up!”

“Did they ask you to wait up?” Absinthe asked.

“Nope, but I’m one concerned auntie, you should know this about me by now. I’m a concerned mother, too, and you sure as hell know that!”

“Yeah, yeah. Wait up for them then, I’m going to bed. I love you, mom. You’re everything.”

“I love you, daughter. You’re everything more.”

This was their proper greeting for goodbyes and good nights. 

“I hope they show up…” Absinthe got worried.

“Why hope? Do you know something I don’t?” asked Angela.

“No, mom, it’s just… that place—it gives me the creeps. I hope they’re okay.”

“There is absolutely nothing wrong with that house. It’s rumors. All rumors. I’ve lived here for seven years, nothing has gotten to me. And I’ve heard so many rumors around here about that place and about that place and Tara—“

“Tilda.” Absinthe interrupted.

“Yeah. Well, she’s non-existent. A figment, if you will. Just some crazy kids trying to scare you. You can go to bed. The only thing I’m worried about is some freak accident that happened inside. I might go inside to check if they’re not back by 3.”

“Okay, mom. If you’re sure. I love you.”

“I love you, too. I’m sure.”

Absinthe went to sleep while Angela stayed up on the yellow suede sofa watching television all night. When the time came to 3, she did what she had promised: she went inside.

“Hello?” Angela asks as she creaks open the door. “Anyone home?”

Angela looks around.

“Hmm,” she shrugs her shoulders, then walks upstairs.

“Megs!” Angels shouts.

“Aunt Angie! I’m over here!” a voice suddenly crept up from behind her, sounding like it was coming from downstairs. Angela rushes downstairs to see.

“Now, Megan, this is no time for hide-and-seek, Absinthe is at the house waiting for us!”

“Relax, aunt Angie. Come closer…” the voice laughed.

“Not funny.”

“Just do it,” the voice said angrily.

“Fine.”

Angela took three steps forward and then was stopped by an angry Tilda. Angela’s eyes widen bigger than the oversized buttons on her coat.

“What a shame I get disturbed by three living beings tonight. And to think, it was so peaceful.” Tilda sighs.

“Where are they…” Angela’s voice trembled.

“Who, dear?”

“The, um. The—“

“Who?!” Tilda interrupted rudely.

“You know who I’m talking about!” Angela yelled as her voice stopped shaking.

“Oh, you mean them?” Tilda uncovered the piano to show the two bodies chopped up inside of it.

Angela’s voice shook again. “I’m-I’m sorry… I-I better get going now.”

“Not so fast!” 

Tilda stops Angela as she takes a broken piano key and shoves it down Angela’s throat. Angela stands there choking and gasping for her every breath. Tilda, then, takes a piano leg and impales her in the stomach, leaving Angela vomiting blood and foul-smelling bodily fluids, and soon after, she crouches down to the ground, then slowly falls on her back. After Angela Is down, Tilda gouges out her eyes, then smashes her face in with the piano leg. Angela suffered for quite sometime before she died. Tilda chopped up Angela’s remains and threw them into the piano along with the others. Sunrise came and Absinthe had awoken.

“Mom, are you home?” was the first thing Absinthe had said when she woke up from her slumber. Regardless of whether Angela knew or not, Absinthe did care about her; of course, not enough to miss sleep over her. But she cared, nonetheless. 

“Mom?” Absinthe hopped out of bed, rubbed her drowsy eyes, and searched the small, country house for Angela. Angela was nowhere to be found, so naturally Absinthe started worrying.

Should I go inside The Needham Mansion? Absinthe thought to herself. Nah, too scary. I’ll go get help instead of risking my life.

THANK YOU FOR TUNING IN!!! I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS SNEAK PEEK! IF YOU LIKE IT, BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR TRAVELER, SET TO RELEASE IN 2022!!!

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I love you all! Have a blissful day.