The Fletcher House

  It's dark, thought someone. Are my eyes close or am I blind? The person, thinking this, opened his eyes. He wasn't blind. It was just very dark. He got up and started to look for a light switch. He kept bumping into several things as he continued his quest for a light switch. After several minutes of looking, and a few bruises here and there, he found the light switch.
  When he turned it on, he finally got a good look at his surroundings. He was in a living room. The room smelled of mold. The wooden floor boards creaked every time he walked. There was a couch, that had a blood red color. Or is that just a huge stain? thought the man. There was a very old coffee table in front of the couch. If you sat on it, it would probably shatter to a million pieces.
  He didn't get a chance to finish his search, when he heard footsteps coming from upstairs. "Whoever lives here, might get angry at me for being in their house." said the man quietly. Before he had a chance to find the front door, the owner of the footsteps appeared. He was a elderly man. He had no hair. He did have a small mustache and beard. He is wearing a purple bath robe. He had no shoes on his feet. His pants were a worn green.
  "Ah, I seen you're finally awake Mr. Greene." said the man. "How do you know my name?" asked Mr. Greene. The man pulled something out of his robe pocket. It was a wallet. He handed it to Mr. Greene. He opened it. The first thing he saw was his ID. The name was James K. Greene.
  "How did I get here?" asked James. "Questions will be asked later. Now, it is time for breakfast." said the man. The man walked into the kitchen. James followed. He still wanted to know how he got here. "Beautiful house, isn't it?" asked the man. "Oh yes." James lied. "A man named Crowley sold it to me. At a reasonable price. Bless his soul." said the man.
  The man was fixing bacon and eggs, while he talked. "Is he dead?" asked James. "Yes. He was seventy. He died ten years after he sold me the house." said the man. "Oh I'm sorry. I never introduced myself. My name is Gregory Fletcher." he said. He put the eggs and bacon on two plates and sat them on the table. James stood there.
  "Well? What are you waiting for? An invitation? Come on eat! This ain't the Queen of England's palace." said Gregory. James sat down. He never realized it, but he was hungry. He ate like he hasn't eaten in twenty years. "So, you want to know how you got here?" asked Gregory, not sohwing a bit of interest in the plate of food that was in front of him.
  "Yes." said James, with his mouth full of food. "Don't speak with your mouth full. It's very rude." said Gregory. James finished eating before speaking again. "Anyhow, I woke up this morning to hear a huge crash. I went out to see what it was. I found your car. It had flipped. I checked to see if anyone was there and I found you." Gregory said.
  James had this strange feeling that the old man is lying. But he ignores it and goes on listening. "I pulled you out of the wreckage and I was stunned." Gregory continued. "Why?" asked James. "There was not a single wound on your body. No broken bones, no nothing." finished Gregory.
  "Could I borrow your phone?" asked James. "Sure, it's in the hallway near the living room." Gregory told James. James walked to the phone without saying thanks.
He picked up the phone. He is calling a friend of his. Robert Crowley is his name. The phone rang for a few seconds. Then, a voice came on. "Hello?" said the voice. "Yes, Robert. It's me, James." said James.
  "It's good to hear from you." said Robert. "Same here. Listen, I want to ask you something." James said. "Shoot." said Robert. "Did you have anyone in your family sell a house to a Mr. Gregory Fletcher?" asked James. There was silence. "Oh, yes.    My dad's grandfather sold a house to a Mr. Gregory Fletcher. But...." Robert said.
  "But what?" asked James. "That was almost a hundred years. Fletcher is probably dead by now. Oh, I just know remembered something." Robert continued. "What?" James asked. "Where are you? You have been missing for a year now." Robert said. "What? I'm at the house of Mr. Fletcher." said James. Once again, there was silence. "That can't be." Robert said, his voice started to sound a bit shaky. "Why?" asked James.
  "The cops searched the Fletcher House. It's empty. They found no one there." Robert said. James dropped the phone. "How can that be?" James said to himself. Not knowing it, Fletcher was standing behind James. He is wielding a kitchen knife, poised to attack.
 
                            THE END