Home Is Where the Soul Stays

"OK, El, the invitation says to let ourselves in, but I'll knock anyway." Rick insisted.



He knocked three times and then once again for good luck, as he always does. Elena could hear the echoes that followed each knock and attributed it to the size of the home, which was very large.



No one came to the door. Rick and Elena, a happily married couple for fifteen years, entered into the house. They were both blasted with a strong case of the shivers. Elena's arms were covered with goose pimples and her hairs were standing straight up.



"It's really dark in here. Rick, honey, are you sure the dinner party was for tonight?"



"I'm sure El, that's what it says right here ... see." and Rick handed the invitation to his wife.



"El, what the hell is that!"



"What? What! Jesus, Rick, what're you talking about?"



Rick bolted across the dark entry way toward the dining room, and landed abruptly on his knees. "Oh, shit, oh shit, Patrick, Patrick?, Patrick! El? El! Call the police, El!"



In a panic, when Elena grabbed for her cell phone, it dropped to the floor and broke.



"Rick! Where's Angela?" Elena quickly quieted her voice in case there was someone still in the house. "Rick? Rick? Rick!"



Elena rushed over to Rick, who was now slumped over their friend Patrick. She grabbed his shoulder in haste and screamed when he wouldn't respond. A sudden jerk of his back and his entire head whirled around as if her husband was possessed and, in a satanic overtone, he spoke these final words, "You're lucky I'm letting you leave! Get out!" Then, in her husband's sweet tone again, "El, run ... I love you." And he died.