I had purchased a house for an incredibly low price in an affluent area in the city I had recently moved to. I had asked the real estate agent why this house was so cheap and he told me that he had it on the market for a long period of time and he wanted to get rid of it and move on. It sounded like a reasonable excuse but I could not help shake the feeling that there was more to it than simply market timing. When I had initially viewed the house I noticed that it had a very unusual interior. The ceiling was painted black and the carpets in all of the rooms were a bright red. There were also very gothic-like hand rails and light fixtures which gave the house a Victorian style touch of spookiness. When I asked the real estate agent about the interior he told he that it was furnished like that because a group of older hippies had owned it before and were into offbeat psychedelic stuff and liked the red and black colors, especially after dropping acid. I asked no more questions and left it at that.
But a couple of days after I had moved in I bumped into one of my neighbours and they thought it was strange that I had purchased the house as it had been up for sale for nearly twenty years. I asked them why they thought it was strange and they said no reason. A day later I asked my other neighbor about the hippies that had lived in the house before me and he said that there had never been any hippies living there. My suspicions grew.
On the fourth night I was in the house I had the strange sense that I was not the only one there. I would hear footsteps on the roof, creakings from the stairs and unknown voices coming from the basement. I would get out of bed to check them and there would be nothing there. Then one morning I went to take a shower which I always took with luke warm water but as I was washing with a full head of shampoo the steam of water coming out of the nozzle suddenly became blazing hot and scolded my face. Later that same day I was cooking with the gas range and for no reason a flame leaped out at me, burning off my eyebrows. Again, there was no explanation for it.
Then one evening one of the plug ins in the house was not working so as I attempted to fix it I was zapped by a massive surge of electricity causing me to lose three fingers on my right hand. A week later after losing my three fingers I was lying down on the couch and watching television when I saw something evil and heinous perched on top of the television. I moved towards it and I could hear its wings clap loudly as it flew across the room into the corner. I turned in its direction and could see its vague outline hiding against the wall, a moment later it was gone. Seconds after I saw the shadow of a hideous looking thing walking down the stairs. I slammed the door shut and picked up my gun out of my desk and spent the whole night with it pointed at the door.
The next day I searched out a man who would look for demons in buildings. He wasn't an excorcist but something close. He came over that day and told me that house had been previously owned by occult worshippers and that I shouldn't have bought it. The demon detective who wore a black hat and black trenchcoat walked through the house with his special equipment. He had a wand like stick in his hand which was hooked up to some sort of receiving device that was making noises that sounded like they were coming from outer space. As the man swept the house with his wand looking for demons he said strange things, warning me that I should move and that I was in danger. These comments made me increasingly nervous. When he finished he told me that there were no demons inside and that he wanted to purchase the house which I eagerly agreed to sell. As he was walking across the living room to leave I screamed, "Watch out. There are three demons hanging upside down from the ceiling beam."
He turned to me and said, "What demons? I'll be by tomorrow to finish the purchase of the house."
Then like a phantom he walked through the front door without opening it.