There’s A Farmhouse In Southeast Washington Called ‘The Richards House’ And Anyone Who Goes In There Supposedly Disappears

Something pulled me left. Not a literal something…a feeling, an impulse. It was like a magnetic pull.

The hallway was tight. It smelled like rotten eggs, the taste of sulfur burned the back of my throat and my eyes. I wondered if someone maybe had a meth lab up there.

I tried the first door I came to. It let out a hideous screech when it raked across the wooden floor below me and revealed a nearly dark corridor. Past the door, I could see steep stairs which led up into complete darkness in the sliver of light the flicker in the hallway provided.

I started up the stairs. There was enough light from the hallway to where I thought I could make it up them and to the crow’s nest attic where I assumed they led.

Halfway up the stairs, the door shut at the bottom and the corridor went completely black. My heart stopped.

“Derek?”

I heard Ricky’s voice from down below.

“Dumb ass. You took out the light by shutting that door. Open it back up,” I barked down at him.

The door opened before I could finish. I saw Ricky standing below me, soaked in blood from head-to-toe.

“What the fuck?”

“Something was down there,” Ricky said with a pained whimper before he fell hard to the floor.

I saw a dark figure sprint by the open doorway at the bottom of the stairs. It went by so quickly I couldn’t make it out. All I could tell was it was bigger than me.

I paused for a moment until I heard whatever was out there stomp back towards the door.

I fled the stairs blind. I ran until I felt myself hit the top of the stairs and I stumbled up into the attic.