When the room went dark, she heard her name; an eerie, echoing resonated through the large, cold, empty house. Her name became louder, increasing in intensity; the voice repeated itself, as if it were taunting her.&nbsp;She had felt as if someone was watching her. Slowly, she turned to see, but there was no one there.&nbsp;Before she could turn her head back, something wet and rigid licked her neck. She said her body had felt as cold as ice, so cold that it was convulsing.&nbsp;Her feet had felt as if they were bound. Frozen in time, she had tried to scream, but her voice had been strangled by fear.&nbsp;Her name was hauntingly being repeated; she couldn’t scream; she couldn’t run; she was forced to endure what the dark, cold night had in store for her. She stood silent, frozen in fear; a black cloud enveloped the room; a warning of things to come!&nbsp;The cloud wrapped around her frail frame, sucking the air out of her body. A man had appeared in front of her, and she recognized him.&nbsp;The only thing he had said to her was that “Everything in this home has been precisely placed! Change anything and dire consequences will be faced!”&nbsp; She had heard those words before, and I, too, was familiar with them. It had been years since she had bought the property, and I had almost forgotten about our encounter with the old owners. My sister had been overseas saving money so she could build her dream home. The first time we had been at the house was the day it closed. We had to meet the owners; they had insisted that they meet whoever bought the house for it to close. They were a very odd couple in their sixties; he was a tall, lanky man, his clothes old and torn. His hands trembled as he spoke, his mind fading; time had not been kind to him. The lady was poorly kept and had her own distinct smell; she was a shorter woman who was quite stout. She never spoke; she just stood there with a void expression. Her eyes were as black as her pupils; her nails were like daggers; her stare was hypnotic.&nbsp; The man was insistent that the new owner, who was my little sister, had to follow just one rule. The rule was that everything in his home had been precisely placed; she was not to change anything, or dire consequences would be faced. He repeated the sentence over and over again; then they turned around and walked away, and not another word was spoken to us. She had travelled days to do as they had asked, and for what?&nbsp;Not even a thank you, just a cryptic message?&nbsp;It wasn't polite! We thought they were crazy and that he had lost his mind; they both had. Looking back, we had all lost our minds! When the house was bought, it was bought sight unseen. The price was too hard to resist; the land is what my sister really wanted. Neither one of us had ever been in the house until the day my sister moved back to our hometown. She had hired an architect while overseas to redesign the whole house and to expand it. The demolition of the back portion of the house started the day she moved in. She was only planning to stay one night, but that didn’t happen.&nbsp;I didn’t really believe any of it and just thought it must have been a horrible nightmare.&nbsp; That night ended up being just a warning, but something changed in her. She had a need, a want to be in that house, something, someone, was drawing her in. I knew my sister to be a skeptical lady on that sort of thing, but she was also very curious about the afterlife and sometimes used Ouija boards or sought out the advice of psychics.&nbsp;She had questions like many of us, and she thought the house might have the answers she sought. She would regularly record herself talking to the house. I never paid much mind to it; it’s not like I had ever heard the house talk back. I thought the experiences she described couldn’t possibly have been real. That is, until the day I listened to the recordings from the night my sister disappeared.&nbsp; I had recognized the voice on the tape recorder; I was there the day the house closed and remembered the strange encounter with the previous owners. I never got a good feeling from them. I was a bit creeped out to say the least, but it wasn’t concerning because the house and the property were no longer theirs. So, what they had to say really didn’t concern my sister or me.&nbsp;Looking back, I wish one of us had taken them seriously. As I sat and listened to the tape, I heard her blood-curdling scream, I heard the terror, as she spoke, begging for help, pleading, her voice trembling.&nbsp;They are sounds I will never forget.&nbsp;The voice was that of the previous owner, his voice distinct, “Time is up, there is a price to be paid, there have been countless changes made! You will die! You will not go free! We built this house with our hands, for our family! “&nbsp; My sister has been missing for months. The tapes were discovered a few weeks after her disappearance.&nbsp;I contacted the realtor to find out information on the previous owners, only to learn that the people we had met had died before the house was closed. She said there were no stipulations put on the closure, and meeting them would have been impossible.&nbsp;They had made a death pact to ensure they could remain in their home, long after the bank foreclosed.&nbsp;They were found in their bedroom, decomposing, holding hands, with a note that read, “Things have been precisely placed; change anything, and dire consequences will be faced. This is our home, even when we are dead! Make us angry and we will need to be fed!”&nbsp;

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The Warning

ElizabethJean

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