Preface: I wrote this in about an hour’s time. I’ve read it once through and changed barely anything. What you are reading is raw straight from my mind down onto the paper with no thought as to why it was going there. I hope you enjoy. More to come from this story.

The House with No Past and those Who Venture into the mist.

The man in the grey suit walks somberly across the green grass. A million little bugs buzz by his hands, eyes, and body. They all want what they can not have.

His name is Eugene and he hates his name.

A young boy no older than eleven, ripe in the face and dull in the mind, walks across the street half running like every boy his age does waiting for an imaginary quarterback to throw him an imaginary pass. No pass will ever come and that upsets the young boy.

His name is Andrew and he doesn’t mind the fact that his mother drinks too much.

A girl no older than twenty three, prostitute pumps covered in a thin layer of blood accentuate her already revealing outfit, walks accros the neighbors clay mud yard. Head held low, she spits on the ground.

Her name is Bubbles; Pussy Profound was taken.

A dog wanders by and barks at nothing in particular. A feeling of regret and remorse course through the girl as the dog surely reminds her of a certain time in Mexico.

“Bloody thing! Fuck off will ya,” She screams her accent thick with disease. Andrew looks taken aback by the situation. His eyes seem to hold no light and he walks on.

With every footstep each adventurer pulls closer to their final destination. Drawn in as if some other worldly force was gripping them, dragging them.

Euguene looks towards the other two, licks his lips, and spits on the ground. The spit is dark and stained with tobacco.

“The dogs with me,” His voice is worn down by years of persuading, lying, and general manly yelling, but his clothes are sharp, business like, and new.

“Well fine! Take your mangy piece of shit mutt and both of you fuck off,” the whore’s mouth twisted in an odd way; into something resembling a frown and a smile that couldn’t be doing anything but fighting.

The boy stands still as if he’s lost all will to move. Somewhere in Hong Kong a man, suddenly and without warning, drops dead much to the ill will of the man he was performing surgery on. The autopsy comes back negative for anything other than a bad cocaine habit and a bit of heroin. His death will still be a mystery by the time the boy reaches the dark split level ranch.

Eugene and Bubbles reach the concrete stoop at the exact same instance. Both minds work equally fast to try and correct the situation, and an awkward uttering of “oh no you after you” “no after you” occurs solving nothing but the silence that preceded it. After a considerable time the boy, who coincidentally had mud brown hair, pushed his way between both the jumbled words and the two humans who committed the verbal crime and came to an old door covered in moss rotting at the hinges.

“Is this really it?” Andrew’s voice was filled with youth. Bubbles’ jealousy fluttered across her face before she regained control again.

“Yes. Now step out of the way young boy,” this voice was new. Though wise it had more than a dash of arrogance. All three heroes turned at roughly the same pace. Eugene was the first to see the man, but Bubbles recognized him before the man in the grey suit could part his lips to speak the words he so tenderly adored.

“John.”

“Tis what my mother calls me. At least did call me. She’s dead now. Terrible tragedy. Although on the bright side half the town was fed for a week,” John spoke without care for his words. He didn’t need care for he had power.

“Well, are you going to open it now?” An innocent question stirred up so many more questions in John’s mind. At a loss for letters and the glue necessary to form words he walked to the door and with a dropped shoulder thrust his body into the old wood. With a crack, crash, and boom the door was on the ground and dust turned the sunlight visible.

“Happy?”

“Only as long as you die in the end,” Bubbles reaches down to rub dried dirt off of her whorish shoes.

The dog barks again and the boy roughly pats him on the head.

“We shall go in now,” Eugene’s voice cuts into everyone’s mind.

Each adventurer stands, faces the door, and with a deep breath take the first step into the house that no one knows exists.