The Bright Blue House on the Corner

Writing Prompt: You’re the last human in a civilized world of vampires, werewolves and other legendary monsters. You only exist in bedtime stories used to scare children. You’ve been able to keep your existence secret until one day, you’re finally discovered.

There was a reason that parents told their children to stay away from the bright, blue house on the corner. A house that sat in an endless patch of sun, with a ghastly lawn of fragrant green. Not a single window had been shattered. Not one shingle hung loose from the roof line. It was truly a terrifying sight, and deafeningly quiet, too. What sort of house didn’t groan as it settled? What holy damnation didn’t wail in the winds?

The citizens of Crabtree Lane had their suspicions of just who could live in a such a place. A Mad Scientist, perhaps mad enough to paint a perfectly bleak house blue! Or a Necromancer, maybe one who’d taken to raising putrid grass and flowering blooms instead of the dead. What a shame it was to see such a lovely graveyard garden sullied by nature. Gnomes instead of gravestones… really? Perhaps it was Frank’s Monster, he was a strong enough beast to have wrecked the once dilapidated home. After all, it would have taken some going to replace the windows, re-fit the doors, re-upholster the roof… a rampage? It certainly looked like one.

There was another theory though, one far darker than a mere Mad Scientist or meager Necromaniac. One that told of a monster yet more dreadful than Frank’s.

They called themselves Humans.

They had no fangs, no tails, barely any hair. They didn’t feast on blood, nor could they shape-shift to a wolf. No scales. No wings. Their feet were of an average size.

Humans. You would shudder to see so plain a thing. And the worst part? They acted like savages.

**

Imagine sitting down to a perfectly good meal, you’re ready to devour a chicken, a lamb or cow. Well, these Humans would do more than just devour their food. They’d play with it first. Farming they called it. Let the animals grow.

Then you’d eat the animals, right? Wrong. You’d have to kill them first. Cold meat? Oh no. You’d have to butcher the beast… and can you believe these Humans would waste the bones, the eyes and the toenails?

When only the meat remained they’d burn it, and call it cooking. Devil below, they’d burn it! And the torture didn’t end there. You weren’t allowed to eat with your hands, and you’d be damned if you could swallow whole a pig. You’d have to eat with a knife and a fork. Savages!

But wait, there’s more…

They’d keep pets. Small animals. Cute creatures. The sort of thing you might find to be hiding under your bed in the daylight. Imagine Chihuahuas in feather hats with bows. Imagine bunny rabbits. No, not were-rabbits, but bunny rabbits. Tiny things with fluffy ears that are partial to eating lettuce and tomatoes. Vegetables! Imagine little birds that sing sweet songs, the sort of songs that make you want to claw your eyes out. Pets. Oh the horror!

And how do you think they got around? Well, they didn’t fly from place to place or roam about the floors on all fours. Nor did they stumble about mindlessly like our undying friends. They would walk. Can you scarcely believe it! They’d walk. A depraved thought in itself. There were even certain groups of these Humans that would run, for leisure. I know, a sickening thought. They called it exercise. These Humans would actually try to make themselves look more disgusting, and praise each other for it. You might be a perfectly fine looking specimen weighing in at seven hundred pounds and then a Doctor (not the good kind that hacks away at body parts) would come along and tell you to lose weight. Yes, to actually lose it!

They slept in beds with pillows and soft sheets. No coffins. No snug little grave. Just beds.

They’d go out in the sun so that they could tan their skin, preferring orange over the pale complexion that our Devil Lord and Saviour had gifted them with.

They’d wear clothes as colourful as that dreadful blue house. Simply no respect for capes, or for trench coats or for the colour black. The best colour, might I add. In fact the Humans that wore too much black (if there can even be such a thing!) were labelled outcasts. A troubling thought indeed.

**

There was only one foul and vile creature that could have bared to live in the bright, blue house on the corner. A Human. And what was that? A twitch at the curtain? As little Vlad began walking up the cobbled path, creeping round the daisies.

Vlad’s friends were floating nervously beside the pristine gate that didn’t squeak.

Knock, knock.

“Who’s there?” the voice was old, but not at all troubled or angry or deep or growling. The voice was… calm. And that terrified Vlad.

Knock, knock.

This time the door slid open, without so much as a creak, and Vlad jumped back, turning into a bat.

A man, a Human, stood upon the clean front step, with well groomed hair that only touched his head, wearing glasses meant for seeing better. He had perfect white teeth, a bright white shirt and white briefs. His legs were skinny, almost muscular.

“What is that?” Haze screamed, as one by one the children started to flee.

“I’ll only say this once,” the man bellowed, “scram,” he waved his walking stick of wood (not even close to rotten!), “get off my God damn lawn!”

Copyright © K R Perry 2019

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