House of Horrors (part of the Spooky Bedtime Stories)

This is my first attempt at fan fiction with the Daily Prompt,  Writing challenge of An Interview. 

My story revolves around the world created by Rob Zombie in House of 1,000 Corpses and Devil’s Rejects.
He sat drumming the steering wheel of his car. “Where was she?” This was so unlike him but he needed answers. He kept checking the review mirror. He could feel his pulse racing. He hated this place. Just sitting in front of it him gave him the creeps. He wanted to be anywhere but here, at the Devil’s house of horrors. It wasn’t much of a house anymore. Fire, old age and time had destroyed much of it. He could hear the engine and exhaust when he noticed an old beat up Volkswagen bug driving up the dirt drive way.
“Finally,” he thought. “Let’s get this over.” He got out of his car to wait. The car pulled up next to his and a short round lady climbed out of the driver’s seat. He chuckled to himself. She reminded him of a witch with her long black hair and long red finger nails. Even her dress reminded him of a witch. She shivered as she hobbled over to the agent.
“Agent Polisson?”
“Jennabeth?”
“Yes. My child, what has possessed you to want to come here? To this place? Can’t you feel it? This place is evil. This is the devil’s house. Oh child, this place has haunted my dreams and visited my visions. Oh, the trapped souls, so many of them. The pain. The inhumanity.” She grabbed her heart with one hand and covered her mouth with the other. She looked pale. She looked sick.
“Jennabeth? Are you okay?” He grabbed her arm.
She looked at him. Her green eyes peering into his deep brown eyes.
“Agent Polisson the horrors I have seen. The stories this house shares. I will never be okay. Never. And if you push on to do this. Neither will you. We need to leave.” Both of her hands now grasped his arm. She pleaded. “This is no place of us. Let it go. Leave it.”
Peter Polisson hesitated. Did he really need to know? Did he want to know what she saw? He forced himself to speak.
“Yes, we have to. All the missing. If I can bring peace.”
“Your peace. Your family’s peace. You want to know about your sister? A cheerleader. Just know she was here and leave it at that. You don’t want to know the rest. It does you, your family, the victims’ family no good being here. Once we step into the remains of that house of horrors your soul will be tainted. We need to leave.” He could see the fear in her eyes. She could see the determination in his. She shook her head. “I have done the best to protect us. But I can only do so much. This house is evil. This house is the devil. Trust me. Know that your sister was here. Let it go. Let her go and let’s leave.”
For a split second he hesitated. Curiosity took over. “How bad can it be? Fire and age have wrecked this house. Police and field agents have taken all the evidence they could. It couldn’t be as bad as the first on the scene.” Rationalizing his decision to press on. He looked at her.
“Jennabeth the sooner we are done, the better. I don’t like it here anymore than you do. Now you said you could connect to the house. That’s all I’m asking. I paid you in advance. Give me what I need.”
“I cannot give you what you need. Your wife is sterile.” He looked at her. How did she know that? Why was she saying it? He figured she was trying to scare him, use some of her psychic mumbo-jumbo to get of helping him. He shook his head, looked down at his shoes and proceeded into the house.
The two of them stood in the what once was the living room. He didn’t know what had come over him. He was doing his best not to throw up. Jennabeth just stood there. Silent.
“What do you want?”
Peter looked puzzled, “you know what I want. I want proof, evidence, victims’ identification.”
“Think I’d betray my family?”
Peter realized he was now talking to the house.
“No, no. I’m sorry. I just want to understand. Preserve their legacy. They are famous, you know? This is a house of legends.”
“Legends?”
Jennabeth was almost whispering, “So many. So strong. The pain. Suffering.” She sat on the charred remains of a chair. She grabbed Peter’s hand. “I don’t know how much more I can take. The house, he is so strong. I never met such a powerful presence. It’s as if it feds of the suffering.” She paused. Panic filled her face. “Oh, it enjoyed it.” Tears were streaming down her anguished ridden face.
“How many victims?” Peter was frantic. “Their names, Jennabeth, their names!”
Jennabeth’s face turned sullen. “Victims? Victims? They were not victims. They were volunteers, projects, experiments, toys.” Her voice was boastful.
“Sorry. How many people were experiments, volunteers, projects and toys?
“I don’t know. Hundreds. If not more.”
Peter was getting frustrated. He started to pace, trying to formulate his next question. When Jennabeth started to rattle off name after name. Peter scrambled to write them down.
“Silence!” Jennabeth yelled and sitting straight up, staring at the remains of a wall. “Shut up woman. We could turn you into a bug woman with 8 legs and no arms. And the man use his face for a mask and give him another face, perhaps yours.” This followed by a menacing, wicked laugh. Jennabeth’s head dropped. Softly, more names spilled from her mouth until she stood up. She grabbed Peter by the throat, her finger nails digging into his neck. He was amazed at her strength and grip. He gasped for air. He grabbed her arm and tried to break her grip. It was useless. “You inquisitive fools. Always wanting to find the legendary Dr. Satan. Fools. So easily lead astray. Listening to the ramblings of a crazy clown. Won over by beauty. You all came right to us. We just sat and waited. If they didn’t want to die than why did they come? Curiosity. You come to my remains to question me? In your suit with your badge, asking questions and you thought I’d answer? You took my family. This was a happy home. You will all pay for what you have taken from me!”
Jennabeth’s let go of Peter’s neck. He bent over catching his breath. Dread filled her eyes, “Peter we have to go and we have to go now.” She tried to grab his hand but he did not move. She turned to run out when Peter struck her in the head with a fallen wooden ceiling beam.
Far underground Dr. Satan grinned. Jennabeth’s face plagued with terror. Peter’s face shined with pleasure.
“Fools. Curiosity gets them every time.” Peter said watching Dr. Satan prepare for surgery.

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