House

House Plot Summary

Introduction

The night spread its darkness across the Alabama countryside as Barsidious White stood motionless in the entryway of an abandoned house, studying his own shadow on the dusty floor. The patina of ancient dust, the stench of mold and rat urine, the settling beams – all spoke of desolation. Yet this weathered structure would soon become the perfect arena for his twisted game. White had meticulously arranged every detail, from the spikes laid across the rural road to the inbred family waiting inside. His rules were simple, etched on a soup can he would present to his unwitting players: "Welcome to my house. House rules: 1. God came to my house and I killed him. 2. I will kill anyone who comes to my house as I killed God. 3. Give me one dead body, and I might let rule two slide. Game over at dawn." As darkness enveloped the countryside, four travelers – Jack and Stephanie Singleton, a couple on the brink of divorce, along with Randy Messarue and Leslie Taylor – would soon find themselves ensnared in a nightmarish battle for survival where the greatest monsters might not be their captor, but the darkness lurking within their own souls.

Chapter 1: The Roadside Trap: Four Travelers Ensnared

The blue Mustang sped down the lonely Alabama highway, tension crackling between its occupants like static electricity. Jack Singleton's knuckles whitened around the steering wheel as his wife Stephanie hummed one of her country songs in the passenger seat. Their marriage had crumbled after their daughter's tragic death – an accident for which Jack silently blamed Stephanie. Now they were heading to a counseling appointment in Montgomery, a last-ditch effort to salvage what remained of their relationship. "Jack, you're gonna kill us!" Stephanie cried as the speedometer crept past eighty. "Sorry," he muttered, easing his foot off the gas. In the rearview mirror, the flashing lights of a highway patrol car appeared, gaining rapidly. The officer pulled alongside them, face obscured behind reflective sunglasses. Officer Morton Lawdale, according to his badge, directed them down a detour road after checking their license and registration. "You don't want to be caught waltzing through the backwoods asking directions from the inbreds," the officer warned before sending them on their way. As darkness descended, they found themselves lost on a dirt road surrounded by dense forest. Rounding a bend, they discovered another car with two flat tires – Randy Messarue and Leslie Taylor, a couple who'd suffered the same misfortune. "We were coming from Montgomery," Randy explained, a successful businessman with a commanding presence. Leslie, a psychology professor, stood beside him, examining their surroundings with clinical detachment. Before they could fully process their situation, the sickening sound of metal tearing through rubber announced their own fate. Their car lurched violently as all four tires shredded on steel spikes hidden in the road. When they exited to investigate, Jack found a vicious contraption – a thick rubber mat bristling with steel spikes spanning the width of the road. "It was a trap," Jack realized with growing dread. With no cell service and night falling fast, the four travelers abandoned their disabled vehicles and trudged through deepening darkness toward a glimmer of light – the Wayside Inn, a stately white house that seemed strangely out of place in these remote woods. As they approached the veranda, Jack couldn't shake the feeling they were being watched. A figure in a long duster coat stood in the shadows, a shotgun gleaming at his side. Before they could retreat, the door swung open, revealing their hosts – Betty and Stewart, along with their hulking son Pete – a family whose unsettling appearance matched their bizarre behavior. "Welcome, weary travelers," Betty's smile revealed missing teeth as she ushered them inside, ignoring their requests for a telephone. "Sign in at the front desk." Little did they know they had just crossed the threshold into a house of horrors, where the long night of terror was only beginning.

Chapter 2: Dread Dinner: Facing the Darkness Within

The dining room of the Wayside Inn glowed with deceptive warmth as Betty forced her reluctant guests to sit around a table laden with food. The meal quickly devolved into a grotesque parody of hospitality. When Jack tried to explain their predicament, Betty redirected the conversation, prying into their personal lives with unsettling interest. "So he'd just as soon not talk about you, is that it?" Betty asked Stephanie after learning about their impending divorce. Jack shifted uncomfortably. "I think she's done very well—" "And aren't you glad?" Betty cut him off, her smile never reaching her eyes. Meanwhile, Pete stared at Leslie with unmasked hunger that made Randy bristle. Stewart watched them all with contempt, occasionally muttering about "filthy atheists" under his breath. "My heart holds all secrets; my heart tells no lies," Stephanie hummed nervously, trying to ease the tension. The atmosphere grew heavier as Betty pushed a bowl of ice toward Stephanie with strange insistence. "Don't tell me you don't like ice, dear. You think about it all the time, don't you?" Stephanie paled. "No. Please, I don't." When Jack inspected his food, he discovered something revolting – tiny white worms squirming through the meat. The peas sagged in putrid juice. Everyone's plate showed the same decay, yet Stewart and Pete devoured theirs voraciously. "Looks like we took too long to eat," Jack suggested with a nervous chuckle. Leslie suddenly threw down her fork. "Will you please stop staring at me?" she snapped at Pete. "Can you blame him?" Stewart smirked. Randy stood, pulling Leslie to her feet. "If you'll excuse us." "SIT DOWN!" Stewart bellowed, his face contorted with rage. When Betty thrust a handful of ice in Stephanie's face, Jack intervened. "She doesn't want any ice, and she doesn't want to sing. Now put that down!" "You can't rescue that one, boy," Betty cackled. "Nope, she don't want to be rescued." Stephanie fled the room in tears, Jack close behind. In the foyer, he caught up to her. "I can't stay here," she whispered, her facade of cheerfulness cracking. A chilling sight awaited them when they stepped onto the veranda. The figure they'd glimpsed earlier stood on the path, shotgun raised. Through the falling rain, they could make out a metal plate where a face should be, with cold eyes staring through jagged holes. "Get inside!" Betty hissed behind them. "It's him!" As they scrambled back inside, the masked figure approached. The sound of boot heels on the flagstones echoed like a death knell. The barrel of the shotgun tapped against the stained glass of the door. Tap, tap, tap. "Who is it?" Leslie whispered. "He's no law officer," Jack replied, grabbing a vase as a weapon. The intruder began manipulating the lock from outside. When he retreated, they discovered he'd sabotaged it, leaving them trapped inside the house with their increasingly hostile hosts and an unknown threat lurking in the darkness outside.

Chapter 3: House Rules: One Dead Body by Dawn

The crash of splintering wood and twisted metal shattered the tense silence as a truck smashed through the front entrance, embedding itself halfway into the foyer. Plaster dust billowed through the air as the four guests scrambled for cover. When the dust cleared, the truck sat mangled in the ruins of the entryway, its windshield a collage of spiderwebs. The wall had sagged around it, sealing off their exit. There was no sign of the driver. "Looking for this?" Stewart's voice cut through the haze. He stood holding the shotgun Jack had dropped during the chaos, methodically loading cartridges. The threat that had been building since their arrival suddenly crystallized. Stewart forced them at gunpoint into the kitchen's meat locker – a frigid chamber with bloodstained walls, butcher knives displayed on a workbench, and meat hooks dangling from the ceiling. "Hands on the wall," Stewart ordered, training the shotgun on them as they faced the rough boards. "One of you is going to die tonight." "The killer only wants one," Betty explained, her voice eerily calm. "So we'll only take one. And we'll even let you decide which one it's gonna be." The four travelers exchanged horrified glances. Stephanie wept quietly, tears dropping onto the frosty floor. "You don't fool me," Stewart growled. "I know what you can and can't do. I know what you are." In that cold chamber of death, Jack realized Stewart was forcing them to become murderers themselves – to choose one among them for sacrifice. The revelation of what awaited them was accompanied by another discovery. A tin soup can left on the hearth carried a message scrawled in black marker: *Welcome to my house. House rules: 1. God came to my house and I killed him. 2. I will kill anyone who comes to my house as I killed God. 3. Give me one dead body, and I might let rule two slide. Game over at dawn.* Jack formulated a desperate plan. He began espousing nihilistic views to distract Stewart, drawing him away from the others. "I've tried to understand why things like this happen to people, and I've given up. There's no point to life, and if that's the case, what's so wrong about us harming each other? Why not?" Stewart took the bait, focusing his attention on Jack. "So maybe it oughta be your brains all over the wall." "Okay," Jack said, backing away and catching Randy's eye. "I choose me." When Stewart turned his back on the others, Jack seized his opportunity. He lunged for the shotgun barrel, sweeping it aside as it discharged into the floorboards. Randy pounced on Stewart's back while Jack struggled to prevent him from chambering another round. "Run!" Jack shouted to the women as Betty reached for a meat cleaver. Leslie grabbed Betty's arm while Stephanie bolted for the door. In the ensuing chaos, they managed to escape the meat locker, but now they were scattered throughout the house – separated in a labyrinthine basement that defied logical architecture, each facing their own nightmares in the darkness.

Chapter 4: The Basement's Labyrinth: Descent into Fear

The basement of the Wayside Inn unfolded like a nightmare given form – concrete corridors lined with rusted doors, strange rooms with pentagrams painted on the walls, mirrors that reflected everything except the person standing before them. A foul sulfuric odor permeated the air, coating tongues and lungs with its stench. Jack and Randy found themselves in a study with an ornate desk and a large mirror. When they stood before it, the glass showed the room behind them in perfect detail, but their own reflections were conspicuously absent. Before they could process this impossibility, Jack was inexplicably sucked through a doorway into a pitch-black tunnel, separated from Randy. In the darkness, Jack heard a child's faint humming. Following the sound, he discovered a small storage space with a young girl inside – Susan, perhaps thirteen years old with dark brown hair, dressed in a tattered white cotton dress. "Are you okay?" Jack asked, concerned by her disheveled appearance. "Do I look okay?" Susan replied with surprising calm. "There's something wrong with this house. It's haunted." Meanwhile, Stephanie huddled in the upstairs closet where Jack had hidden her before descending into the basement. As minutes stretched into hours, her fear transformed into rage at Jack's abandonment. Something slithered up her leg – snakes crawling across the closet floor. Her scream became a snarl as she burst from the closet, only to find the floor empty. Had she imagined it? In another section of the basement, Leslie found herself trapped in Pete's bedroom – a grotesque space decorated with pinball machines, dart boards, and scented with vanilla potpourri. Pete forced her onto his bed and bound her wrists to the bedposts. "You have to be a good wife and eat," he insisted, trying to make her consume a paste of rotten dog food. "It will make you strong." When Leslie refused, Pete strapped her to a spinning wheel and threw darts at her, drawing blood from her thigh and arm. "Tell me when you've learned," he said as he spun the wheel. "Stop! I've learned... I'm guilty!" she screamed. Randy, meanwhile, fled through the tunnels from Stewart, who had somehow survived their earlier encounter. Finding himself trapped in a concrete chamber rapidly filling with water, Randy faced a terrible choice – let Stewart drown or try to save him. As water rose to his neck, Randy watched impassively as Stewart's struggles ceased beneath the surface. The basement shifted and changed around them, defying physical laws. Doors that should lead to freedom instead opened back into the same rooms. Hallways extended impossibly. The house itself seemed alive, manipulating their movements to keep them trapped within its walls. When Jack finally located Leslie and rescued her from Pete's clutches, they encountered Susan again. "He's trying to kill me," she warned cryptically. "White. The killer." As they fled through the corridors, Jack realized the basement was more than a physical space – it was somehow reflecting their own inner darkness. The evil around them was being drawn from within them, mirroring their fears, guilt, and sins in physical form. "The house is mirroring our hearts," Jack whispered in dawning horror. "It's drawing its power from the evil in us."

Chapter 5: Reflections of Evil: The House of Haunted Hearts

Officer Morton Lawdale appeared in the boiler room where the four travelers had regrouped, his uniform disheveled and bloodied. "I found your cars," he explained, holstering his revolver. "Backup's on the way, but it might take them an hour or more." His arrival brought a flicker of hope, but the house continued its haunting moan. Words written in red appeared on the wall: *The Wages of Sin Is One Dead Body*. Lawdale proposed a plan to escape through a back exit he'd discovered. "The house won't let you out. But that doesn't mean it won't let someone in. Like a flytrap," he explained. "I know Tin Man didn't see me come in. I may be able to get out undetected, then open the basement door from the outside." As Lawdale departed, Jack noticed something disturbing – black smoke leaking from a wound on the officer's forehead. Before he could process this revelation, the travelers witnessed something impossible – duplicates of themselves entering the room, identical in every detail. Two Jacks, two Randys, two Leslies, and two Stephanies faced off in a standoff, each believing themselves to be the original. When one Jack's hand began to leak black smoke from a cut, panic erupted. Black fog poured from the ceiling, filling the room as shotgun blasts reverberated in the chaos. When the smoke cleared, only one version of each traveler remained. Their minds reeled from the impossible encounter, but they had little time to recover before Lawdale returned. "We're out of time," he announced grimly. "Someone has to die so the rest can live, and I'm willing. Do it now before I change my mind." Jack lifted the shotgun hesitantly, unable to pull the trigger despite Lawdale's insistence. When he examined the wound on Lawdale's forehead more closely, black smoke began to pour from it, confirming Susan's warning – Lawdale was the Tin Man. The officer's eyes turned completely black. "Never leave your gun unattended, Jack," he sneered, revealing he had emptied the shotgun of all but one shell. The travelers fled upstairs, pursued by the killer. When they opened the door to what should have been the main floor, they found themselves back in the boiler room. The house had shifted again, trapping them in an endless loop. More horrifying than the house's supernatural architecture was what they found waiting for them – an army of duplicates. Dozens of Jacks wearing tin masks filled the hallways, all staring at Jack with his own eyes. For Stephanie, they appeared as copies of herself. "This is what White told me would happen," Randy said, his grip tightening on his shotgun. "He said Jack would kill me if I didn't kill him." As the final hour approached, Randy separated from the group with Stephanie, convinced that killing Susan was their only chance for survival. "If one of us doesn't kill someone else pretty soon, he's going to kill us all," Randy insisted. Jack and Leslie found Susan, who led them through the basement's shifting maze, pursued by the multiplying duplicates. "If we defeat the sin, we take away the house's power?" Jack asked. "No," Susan replied. "It's not about the sins. It's about the heart. It's about you." As dawn approached, the basement filled with black fog and the walls reverberated with the moans of the house, as if the very structure knew its time was running short.

Chapter 6: Susan's Sacrifice: Light in the Darkness

The final confrontation unfolded in the study, where Jack, Stephanie and Susan found themselves surrounded by an army of duplicates – hundreds of Jacks wearing tin masks, each an extension of White's control over the house. Stewart, Betty, and Pete stood watching with anticipation as Tin Man stepped into the center of the room, his shotgun at the ready. "The wages of sin is death," Tin Man proclaimed through his metal mask. "In the end they always pay up." White issued his final challenge: "Kill Susan, or I will kill all three of you." Jack recoiled at the demand. "No," he said firmly, despite the weight of dread pressing upon him. Susan stepped between Jack and White, her back to the killer. "You think one dead body will satisfy his lust for death?" she asked Jack. "Not unless that person has no guilt. Not unless they are blameless. Only one Son of Man can do that. Look to the light, and you'll understand." White began to shake with rage behind his mask. "Kill her!" he roared. Susan spun to face him. "He said no!" In uncontrollable fury, White pulled the trigger. The shotgun spewed fire with a tremendous boom. Susan's body flew backward into Jack's arms, blood spreading across her belly. He caught her instinctively, then let her fall to the floor in horror. The assembled duplicates stared at Susan's body in fascination. The blood pooling beneath her wasn't ordinary – it was laced with crackling white light, as if it carried an electric charge. Stephanie dropped to her knees beside the girl's body. "She's the light! She's the light!" As the duplicates began a ritualistic chant of "Kill, kill, kill," Stephanie's whispering rose to a shout: "Son of Man, have mercy on me, a sinner!" The truth struck Jack like a physical blow. Susan had taken their death as the guiltless one. She was the light in the darkness, sacrificing herself to break White's power over them. Jack joined Stephanie's cry: "Son of Man, have mercy on me, a sinner!" The light from Susan's blood gathered and blasted into their faces, into their mouths and eyes. Jack trembled as raw power flowed through him, then erupted outward in blinding white shafts. The duplicates evaporated into black fog before the advancing light. White's body jerked with the full impact, lifted off the ground as he screamed in agony. The light tore through the basement, obliterating the darkness that had held them captive. At precisely 6:17 in the morning, light exploded from every window and door of the house. Windows rattled as if struggling to contain the surge of energy. Shutters and windows throughout the house broke free from their latches with loud bangs, allowing shafts of light to shoot into the sky, riding a hum that lasted several seconds before disappearing. When Jack and Stephanie regained consciousness, they crawled from the basement to find police officers arriving at the house. Inside, the authorities would discover only three bodies – Randy, Leslie, and White. No Stewarts, no Bettys, no Petes, no duplicates. And no Susan.

Chapter 7: Salvation's Dawn: The Cleansing Light

Jack and Stephanie stood behind the stone wall, watching as police officers approached the abandoned house. The morning sun cast long shadows across the overgrown yard, revealing the true nature of the Wayside Inn – a derelict structure that had been empty for years. "It looks that way," an officer spoke into his radio. "We found Officer Lawdale's cruiser a half mile up the road, abandoned with the other two cars. We have reports of two survivors here who believe the killer impersonated him." The radio crackled. "You're saying three dead, two survivors?" "That's unconfirmed, but we're going in now." Birds chirped and insects sang in the surrounding forest, a jarring contrast to the horrors Jack and Stephanie had endured through the night. They had awakened to find only three bodies in the basement – Randy, Leslie, and White. The authorities had discovered the real Officer Morton Lawdale dead in his home; White had killed him and stolen his identity. "They're dead," Stephanie whispered, still processing the loss of their companions. "What about Susan?" Jack asked. "Who was she?" "I don't know," Stephanie replied. "But she was real, right? We saw her blood." Before they could ponder further, movement at the edge of the woods caught their attention. Susan approached them, still wearing the same blood-stained white dress. "Susan?" Jack stepped forward in disbelief. She smiled gently. "I knew you could do it." "What happened?" Stephanie asked. "Light came into the darkness," Susan replied simply. "That's what happened." When Jack asked if she was an angel, Susan deflected the question. "Think of me as someone who's shown you the way by shedding a little light on the situation." "There's something else you should know," she added gravely. "White's not finished." Following her gaze to the house, Jack noticed faint gray shapes in the attic window – Stewart, Betty, and Pete staring down at them. "They're still there?" Jack asked, stunned. "For a while," Susan explained. "They'll find the place a bit too clean for them now. They'll move on." Stephanie took two bold steps toward the house and shouted, "Shoo!" The window emptied immediately. When Jack turned back to thank Susan, she had vanished without a trace. "So she was an angel?" he wondered aloud. "Maybe," Stephanie replied. As they stood in the morning light, Jack caught another glimpse of Stewart in one of the windows. This time, instead of fear, he felt only determination. Stephanie noticed too, and once again lunged forward with a defiant cry: "Shoo!" The shadow retreated instantly. In the clear light of day, the couple faced each other with new understanding. The darkness they had confronted wasn't just White's evil or the supernatural house – it was the darkness within themselves. Through Susan's sacrifice, they had found redemption not only from White's deadly game but from their own bitterness, guilt, and denial. Jack took Stephanie's hand in his, feeling the warmth of connection that had been absent for so long. Whether Susan was an angel or simply another victim who had shown them the way, her sacrifice had broken the power of darkness over their hearts.

Summary

The long night at the Wayside Inn transformed Jack and Stephanie Singleton in ways they could never have anticipated. Having entered as a couple on the brink of divorce, bitter and broken by their daughter's death, they emerged united – not by the counseling session they'd missed, but by confronting the darkest corners of their souls. Randy Messarue and Leslie Taylor had succumbed to their inner demons, ultimately paying the price for their inability to overcome the darkness that White's house had magnified within them. Yet their deaths served as stark testament to the truth Susan had revealed: that the real battle wasn't against flesh and blood, but against the evil lurking in human hearts. As police scoured the abandoned house, finding no trace of the supernatural horrors Jack and Stephanie had witnessed, the couple knew they carried a truth the world would never understand. White's house of mirrors had forced them to confront reflections not of their physical selves, but of their spiritual condition. Through Susan's Christ-like sacrifice – the innocent dying for the guilty – they had discovered that light could indeed pierce the deepest darkness. Whether she was an angel or something else entirely, Susan had shown them that salvation comes not from denying one's capacity for evil, but from acknowledging it and choosing light instead. Back in Tuscaloosa, the world would continue its mundane patterns, oblivious to the battle between good and evil that had played out in that remote corner of Alabama – a battle that would continue as long as human hearts remained capable of both tremendous darkness and remarkable light.

About Author

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Frank E. Peretti

Peretti charts an intricate map of spiritual warfare through the lens of Christian fiction, blending supernatural suspense with an evangelical worldview. His literary approach often involves the depiction of cosmic battles between good and evil, featuring demonic forces and angelic interventions. Through his imaginative narratives, Peretti engages readers by situating these spiritual themes within realistic settings, providing a compelling exploration of Christian faith. This method is especially evident in works like "This Present Darkness", which revolutionized the genre by weaving spiritual conflict into a gripping thriller, selling millions of copies worldwide.\n\nMeanwhile, Peretti extends his storytelling prowess to younger audiences with series like the "Cooper Kids Adventure", offering thrilling adventures that incorporate Christian values and ethical dilemmas. His books for children and young adults not only entertain but also instill moral lessons, resonating with readers who seek narratives that combine excitement with spiritual depth. Beyond fiction, his non-fiction book, "The Wounded Spirit", delves into themes of healing and personal growth, highlighting his versatility as an author who can address both the fantastical and the profoundly personal. Readers drawn to stories of resilience and faith find meaningful insights within his works.\n\nPeretti's impact on the field of Christian literature is further underscored by accolades such as the Gold Medallion Award for "The Oath". By pioneering the Christian thriller genre, he has paved the way for a new dimension in faith-based narratives, encouraging other authors to explore these themes. His body of work continues to influence both adult and younger readers, offering them a unique blend of entertainment and spiritual reflection. This brief bio captures how Peretti’s multifaceted storytelling not only entertains but also inspires a deeper understanding of spiritual warfare and personal redemption.

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