Emily Porter
Blog Post – August 24th, 2021
Evil lives inside of this house. It flows through each hallway, coats each wall, and infuses itself into each crack and crevice. The house is drenched in darkness, swallowing up light at every twist and turn. It is shrouded by
the vile events – no, atrocities that have occurred in its past.
1934, a man murdered his wife in the living room after finding out she hadn’t finished her household chores. 2 gunshots, 1 through the stomach, 1 through the heart. Dead.
1956, a woman killed herself in the upstairs master bedroom after finding out she had gotten pregnant from her husband, who used his hands rather than his words. 1 rope, 1 hook from the ceiling. Dead.
1972, a family of 6: husband, wife, 3 children, and a dog were murdered in their sleep by a serial killer passing through town. 104 stab wounds, divided by 6. Dead, dead, dead.
There are more, hell there are a hundred more terrible things that have happened in this house. Almost anything wicked you can think of probably happened at least 3 times here. But the question is why? Why this house? What dark entity resides in this house?
What calls people to this house, to inhabit this sinful place? Is it the trapped spirits of dead tenants? Or does the devil dwell in the house’s depths? Whatever the reason, it was no surprise that when the Pritchett Family set foot into the house as the new owners, they had been cursed to have their story end in tragedy. The Pritchett Family, survived only by the eldest daughter who had been away at college, disappeared into thin air 4 years ago. They were last seen at approximately 9:30 pm on May 16th, 2017, the night before they went missing. Police and FBI investigators have come to a standstill in the case, with no evidence of foul play, or more accurately no evidence at all. Nevertheless, I will not give up on this case. I will find the Pritchett Family and uncover the secrets of 616 Hillwood Road.
I stared at the computer, as I had for the past hour. I was about to keep typing when suddenly the screen went black.
“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath. I had spent all night writing and researching about Hillwood House and forgot to charge the device. I closed the computer and placed it on the seat next to me. Stifling a yawn with my hand, I leaned back on the driver’s seat and stared at my surroundings.
The street was quiet and empty, with the occasional car driving through, never stopping. No one ever stopped on this street anymore, unless they were forced to. I heard thunder roll through the graying sky in the distance as fog began sweeping down the road. I sighed. I had wanted to come here during the day, when the task in front of me wouldn’t be so intimidating. But it was just my luck that it was gloomy as hell outside. Ugh, I might as well get this over with. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my phone and crossbody bag, opened the car door, and stepped outside. I walked around the car and stepped onto the cracked sidewalk. For a moment, I stood still as I stared at the looming structure in front of me, the place that haunted my dreams.
Then I forced myself to take a step towards it, then another, and another, until suddenly I was standing in front of the porch steps. How had I gotten up here so fast? My breath became ragged, my knees threatening to collapse from under me. Get it together Avery, I thought to myself. Suddenly I felt something cool fall down my forehead, then my arm. I looked up to the sky, just as rain began pouring down from the clouds above. I cursed and bent under the old, yellow police tape blocking out the porch entrance, and ran up the moldy steps. I reached the covered porch and turned around to watch the rain fall hard around me. No going back now, I thought, and turned to face the front door. I tried to steady my breath as I reached out and gripped the door handle. Taking one more shaky breath, I turned the knob and pushed the door open. I stepped foot into Hillwood House, “Hellwood House” as some people called it. Standing there in the doorway, I could almost feel the hands of the dead claw at my soul, as if trying to trap me inside and never let me out.
I looked around silently, taking in the rundown house, and sniffed back a sneeze from all the dust. I began walking over to the living room when BANG! I jumped at the sudden noise and dropped my phone. Turning around, I breathed in sharply at the sight of the front door closed behind me. Shit, I thought. I know for a fact that I left that door open.
“Hello?” I asked the space around me, cringing at how timid my voice sounded. I got no answer in return. Of course I didn’t, mentally slapping myself. Why would I get an answer when I was alone? I knelt down and grabbed my phone, turned on it’s flashlight, and walked further into the house. My feet led me into the spacious kitchen, my eyes noting the dust coated countertops and cobweb covered cabinets. It was obvious that no one had lived here in a long time. I walked in a circle, going through each cabinet and drawer, searching for anything the police might have missed. I finally made my way to the fridge, which made me pause. Held by a magnet on the top half of the fridge was a picture of a girl. A little girl, wearing a t-shirt and butterfly skirt. She was holding a flower in her hand as she posed in front of Hillwood House. I brushed dust off the picture and pulled it off the fridge, holding it in my hands. I narrowed my eyes, how was this picture here? Wouldn’t the police have taken all the Pritchett’s personal belongings out of the house? Movement out of the corner of my eye drew me from my thoughts. A tiny, dark gray mouse ran out from under the rusty kitchen drawers and along the floorboard. I watched as the small thing rushed along the squeaky planks of wood until it reached the hallway and disappeared into the shadows. And that’s when I noticed it. A door in the hallway, creaking open by itself. My eyes widened as I realized where the door led to, the place I had most been dreading to explore. I hated basements, always have. I gulped, and tucked the picture of the little girl in my bag. I slowly walked over to the now fully open door and beheld the darkness below me. My heart beat out of my chest as I stared down into the blackness, trying to will myself to go down the stairs. Suddenly I felt cold hands press against my shoulder blades and forcefully push me forward. Tripping, I rolled halfway down the stairs and onto the landing, my bag and phone tumbling down after me and falling onto the basement floor. I groaned in pain and lifted my head up to the top of the stairs. Forgetting the pain I was in, I weakly stood up and ran up the steps. Just as I reached the top step, the basement door slammed shut.
“No!” I shouted and pushed against the door, but it wouldn’t budge. I tried turning the handle, but it wouldn’t move. I groaned in frustration and banged my fists against the door.
“Help! Somebody please, help me!” I pleaded to anybody who could be listening. I sobbed and brushed my hands through my hair. What was I supposed to do now?
My phone! Where was my phone? I turned around and saw its light beaming on the basement floor, though the light seemed small compared to the darkness surrounding it. Just as I was about to run down and grab the phone, a voice spoke.
“Avveerryyy,” I jumped at the voice and pressed myself back as far as I could from the bottom of the basement.
“Avveerryyy,” the voice repeated, sounding even louder than the first time. The voice brushed up against my body, filling my ears with its chilling sound. I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman, only able to focus on how much it terrified me.
“P-please, don’t h-hurt me,” I whimpered, my back pressed against the door. There was silence for a moment, or maybe a hundred moments, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t move, I couldn’t move, not while I was trapped in the basement with something that did not seem friendly. After what felt like forever, another voice spoke, a voice I knew all too well.
“Avery, come to us,” the voice said almost soothingly. I sucked in a breath as my eyes began to well with tears.
“Mom?” I asked, my voice quivering with doubt.
“Avery, we are here. Come to us.” A tear fell down my cheek. I stood up from the wall, pressing my shaking hands to my side. I took a step forward down the stairs.
“Avery,” another voice said, “Come to us, be with us.” I sobbed.
“Dad?” My voice trembled as more tears fell down my face. I took another step down the stairs, then another, as though some force was pulling me down.
“Ave, come down, please,” a third voice said, freezing me on the spot. It sounded like my baby brother.
“Auggie?” I demanded, wiping tears from my eyes. “Auggie, I’m coming,” I replied and ran down the rest of the stairs. “Mom, Dad, I’m coming! I’m coming!” I shouted as I jumped over my fallen bag and phone, running into the basement. My family was down here, and I was gonna see them again!
The Morning Show – August 27th, 2021
“…And now back to Laura.”
“Thanks Robert. Local police have made no progress in the search for Avery Pritchett, who has been the last surviving member of the Pritchett Family. Avery, who is 22 years old and a recent graduate of Michigan State University, left her hotel room on August 24th and has been missing for 3 days. Sources say on the last day she was seen, Avery had been planning to investigate Hillwood House, the home where her family had gone missing 4 years ago. Avery Pritchett’s car was found outside of Hillwood House, but there was no sign of her or her belongings inside the home. Police are asking the public if anyone has information on the whereabouts of Avery Pritchett or her family, to contact them immediately at the number below. Back to you Robert.”