The car stopped beside an old, rickety house that stood alone at the end of the street. It was a small, dark-blue minivan, the kind families and friends usually drove to a picnic or took out of town on vacation. This time, however, was different. Instead of a cheerful group, four men got out, looking serious and clearly dressed for something other than recreation. Dusk had fallen, and night was gradually enveloping everything around them. One of the men, dressed in a dark suit, stopped near the entrance. He looked at the old, sagging door, which somehow reminded him of the mouth of a toothless beggar on the street.
Up close, it was obvious that the house was very old and had been abandoned many years ago. Weeds and grass covered everything. The roof visibly leaked, the shutters hung askew, and the windows had no frames.
"Nice place," Walt chuckled. He knew what they had to do, but as always, he couldn't resist making a comment.
"Can you be quiet for once?" Andrew, his cousin, had always been irritated by Walt, who got on his nerves in every possible way. Usually, Andrew remained calm and silent, but not now - the situation was too serious.
"Stay calm, Drew," Walt said. "You've always been as lively as a reinforced-concrete slab by the side of the road." Walt was nervous, and it showed in his voice, but he delivered the jab without hesitation. He had always been harsh and unyielding. Andrew grew even angrier. More than verbal attacks, he hated being called Drew. He had gotten into fights many times simply because someone had called him that, whether by accident or on purpose. No one knew why he hated the name, and Andrew kept the reason to himself.
"I'm going to smash you in the head!" Andrew grabbed a tree stump lying nearby. Walt turned and took a defensive stance. The men were on edge. A sudden shotgun blast distracted them both. They turned around. Jonah, who had been standing by the trunk the whole time, had finally lost patience.
"Enough. It's time to do what we came here for."
No one argued with Jonah. A military man who had served in one of the conflict zones of East Asia, he was an unquestioned authority in the group, and his opinion was always respected. Jonah was taciturn; he joined conversations but rarely spoke first. After a number of townspeople disappeared, however, he began to behave differently. He became harsher and less tolerant of everything around him. Even in ordinary conversations, he allowed himself more than before and sometimes used force to make his point.
The men took everything they needed from the car: baseball bats, metal rods, a shotgun, a pair of pistols, and flashlights. Only one of them refused to take a firearm.
His name was Luke.
"Our pacifist is back in town." Walt couldn't resist another barb. Luke looked at him reproachfully and finally took a baseball bat.
"Don't be afraid. I'll strangle this murderer with my bare hands." Luke was a big guy and a serious beer lover, with a punch strong enough to break a couple of boards. He had recently won third place in an arm-wrestling competition, securing his status as the strongest man in the group.
"All right, guys, listen carefully. The scum who killed Kira is hiding in this house. Here's the plan. We go in as two groups. Walt and I will take the first floor; Luke and Andrew will take the second." Jonah laid out a plan that suited everyone.
"Well, the killer chose a place no one would come to." Walt couldn't help remarking. Everyone knew what kind of house it was. There were many urban legends about the place. The details varied, but the essence was always the same: many years ago, an unsociable old man had lived there and practiced black magic. Supposedly, a greenish glow often seeped through his windows at night, accompanied by terrible screams. One day, children began disappearing from the neighborhood. Without thinking twice, the locals blamed the old man and raided his house. When the crowd broke into the kitchen, they caught him doing something unimaginably horrifying: dismembering the bodies of children with a butcher's axe. He immediately attacked the intruders and was killed on the spot. A trapdoor in the kitchen opened onto a staircase leading down to the cellar. Apparently, that was where he had dumped the severed body parts.
Every child knew the story, and entering the property was strictly forbidden. But after a series of murders swept through the area, the locals began talking about the house again. Still, no one dared to visit it. Only a small group of four friends who had known one another since school decided to ignore the urban legends: Walt, Jonah, Luke, and Andrew. After the city police released the suspect's description and possible location, it took the four of them only half an hour to reach the old house. According to witnesses, almost all the missing girls had attended the Milky Paradise club, where various informal gatherings often took place. Among the performers was a strange DJ whose real name no one knew. His stage name was "D-tri-Ville," and he often played progressive music that had become popular with young people. As the investigation showed, every evening after he began performing there, one of the young women disappeared. According to rumors, they had all tried to get an autograph or a phone number from D-tri-Ville, and some had even visited the DJ's dressing room. Because information about the performer's identity had been kept confidential, journalists pressed the police to identify a possible suspect and reveal his location. Under pressure from the public and the media, the department finally issued a statement. At five that evening, the police chief - an obese man with greasy hair and a plump face - announced a description of the wanted man. The suspect was tall and wore a dark hoodie with the hood pulled over his face.
"He's not getting out of here alive today," Jonah said. He slapped Walt on the back and led him away.
They entered the house through the front door. No forcing was necessary; the door collapsed to the floor at the slightest push. Their flashlight beams illuminated the shabby hallway walls. Cobwebs almost completely covered the doorway. To the left was the kitchen, which was a complete mess. In the middle of the floor lay a pile of junk - tables, chairs, barrels, and even large stones. Sweeping his flashlight across the floor, Walt noticed a trail of blood.
"Here, look. Is that blood?"
"Looks like it. Do you see where it's coming from?" Jonah swept his flashlight over everything, even the walls, but the more he looked, the more obvious it became that they would have to clear the debris first.
"I don't like this. Sure, you've been to a lot of places and seen a lot, but I have the feeling something really terrible happened here. These aren't children's bedtime stories anymore."
"Walt. Twelve girls are missing. Kira is one of them. If you're scared, just say so. Don't fool around."
"Am I scared? Huh! You should know me better than that!"
Walt turned to the pile of junk and began clearing the rubble. The two men lost track of time, but eventually they uncovered a cellar. The trail of blood led straight to it. According to the legend, the old man had kept a terrifying creature there, something he had summoned straight from hell. The cellar had been sealed, filled with rubbish, and the house boarded up. Strange sounds were still said to come from below. According to the story, the monster's spirit had never found peace and still lived there. No one was supposed to disturb it.
They dragged the trash into the hallway. Finally, Walt took hold of the handle and opened the hatch onto a cold, damp, dark abyss. Their flashlight beams illuminated a pile of bones - children's bones, judging by their size. A chilling fear swept through Walt. For a moment he was stunned. The stories weren't fiction after all.
"Hey, is anyone alive?" Jonah shouted, hoping to hear someone's voice. He seemed completely unconcerned by what he saw. Nerves of steel. Then he stepped toward the stairs leading down. Walt's expression tightened.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm going downstairs," Jonah replied coldly, almost detached.
"Careful. The steps may be rotten or missing." Walt couldn't believe Jonah had the nerve to go down there. He wanted to stop him, but it was too late. Jonah put his flashlight between his teeth and started down. A moment later, Walt heard a crunch from below, as if something were being crushed underfoot.
"I'm coming down too!" Walt shouted, moving toward the opening as if he were about to enter a den of unknown evil.
"Wait, don't! The staircase is barely holding together. If it breaks, we won't be able to climb back up. And the cellar is deep. If both of us get stuck down here, it'll be a pretty miserable situation."
"Okay. Tell me everything you see."
"Nothing special yet..." Jonah hesitated as he shone his light into the depths of the cellar. After a while, the sound of his footsteps stopped. Walt grew nervous, his knees trembling. He wondered what was happening and why the cellar had gone so eerily silent.
"Jonah!" Walt shouted, but no one answered.
"Jonah, answer me!" Again, there was only silence.
Suddenly, a noise came from the cellar, as if someone were rushing toward the stairs, crushing the bones underfoot. Walt's flashlight caught Jonah scrambling frantically upward. All at once, part of the staircase gave way, and Walt instinctively grabbed his friend's hand. A few seconds later, with a burst of strength, he hauled Jonah out. Jonah was pale, his eyes fixed on a single point, one hand gripping the shotgun tightly. His flashlight remained below, illuminating the bones scattered across the floor.
"What happened?!" Walt tried to bring Jonah back to his senses.
"Let's go!" Jonah rushed out of the kitchen and stumbled toward the main doorway, but they would not make it out.
Something that looked like a huge goat stood in the doorway. It was upright on its hind legs, its eyes glowing bright purple. An unknown liquid dripped from its enormous horns, and black fur covered its body like protective armor.
The creature suddenly charged Jonah and Walt and, in one swift motion, impaled Jonah on its horns. It moved so quickly that Jonah, his finger still on the shotgun's trigger, couldn't fire a shot.
"Oooo!" the creature sang, its voice a deep, trumpet-like bass as Walt's friend slowly bled out on its horns.
"Fire!" Walt shouted, but Jonah was bleeding out and couldn't pull the trigger.
"I can't..." Jonah turned pale and suddenly fell silent. The creature jerked its head, and Jonah dropped to the floor like a rag doll. He didn't move again. Walt had no choice but to swing the bat. At that moment, the goat-like creature dropped to all fours and, deflecting the blow, began slowly advancing on him.
"Leeeoooaaaa!" The monster's bass voice shook the walls. Walt was terrified, but he kept swinging. The goat deftly deflected every blow with its horns.
Walt swung again and struck the goat's head. The bat shattered into splinters, but the goat kept advancing, slowly and confidently, its hooves clacking against the floor. The violet light from its eyes grew brighter, allowing Walt to see the creature more clearly. Its head was completely bony, and its horns resembled two metal crossbars sharpened at the ends. Its hooves were huge, and every click echoed in Walt's ears. What had looked like fur was actually pieces of dark and pale skin wrapped around its body. The rotten smell and the strips of flesh hanging from it filled Walt with disgust, and he fought the urge to vomit.
"Oookaaay, chop-chop..."
Walt pulled out a pistol and opened fire. He wasn't the best shot, but he could have sworn he hit the monster. Still, the bullets didn't stop it. The goat came closer and closer, forcing Walt backward toward the kitchen.
"What do you want?" Walt blurted angrily as he fired his last rounds.
"Blink-blink..." the creature boomed, completely ignoring Walt.
"Eh, the devil..." Walt stumbled and realized the creature had driven him into the kitchen, almost into a corner. He had only two choices left: accept his fate or jump into the cellar.
"Who didn't listen to mommy? Who was scattering the dough?" The bass voice rose into a heart-rending scream, and the words became intelligible. Walt understood: he had only seconds left. Down into the cellar, or be strung up like Jonah.
"The one on the horns will find his place!" the goat screamed and charged Walt at full speed. At the last possible moment, Walt dropped into the cellar. The monster flew past without hitting him, while Walt landed face-down on the bones. He looked up. The creature growled, reared up, and ran out of the kitchen with a loud clatter of hooves.
Walt switched on his flashlight and looked around the cellar. Bones were everywhere. The darkness was almost complete, but a thin ray of light showed ahead. Walt scrambled to his feet and rushed toward it. When he reached the end, a brightly lit room came into view. At its center sat the same DJ, wearing a black hoodie pulled low over his face.
"Tell me, do you believe the tales now?" the DJ asked without looking up.
"What the fuck is going on here? Where's Kira?" Walt was terrified, but that didn't stop him from demanding an answer. The DJ said nothing. He merely extended one hand and pointed to a door on the left. Walt rushed over, opened it, and found himself in a garden where cherry trees were in bloom. A sad-looking Kira sat beside one of the trees, folding fallen leaves in her hands. Walt ran to her and grabbed her arm, trying to drag her away.
"Let go, Walt," Kira ordered softly. Her eyes filled with tears.
"We've come here for you..." Walt began, but Kira interrupted him.
"No, Walt. The goat has come for you. You will be punished here. Like me."
"What are you saying? Let's go, quickly..."
"No! I'm staying here! This is the only way out!"
"What's the matter with you?!" Walt was furious. He had barely escaped death, while Jonah hadn't. His temples throbbed, and his heart pounded.
"It's just you and Luke left. You either run away or meet the goat. That's the only way..." Kira began, but the sound of hooves interrupted her. The clatter drew closer from somewhere in the garden. Huge horns appeared in the distance. Walt tried to grab Kira, but she turned away. He had no choice but to run. With all his strength, he rushed to the door and yanked it open. He had taken only a few steps when Luke appeared on the threshold, covered in blood and holding a shotgun. Walt froze and stepped back. At that moment, the horns pierced his body. Blood poured from his wounds, and he was instantly immobilized. Now he understood why Jonah hadn't been able to shoot. No matter how hard he tried, Walt couldn't move. He could only watch as Luke fired the shotgun at the enormous monster.
"Run..." Walt managed before collapsing to the ground. His eyes slowly closed as his life drained away. He saw Luke desperately trying to defeat the goat, but it was no use. The last thing Walt saw was Luke running away, leaving him and Kira alone with the creature. Then Walt's eyes closed.
Luke, meanwhile, ran with all his strength along the bone-strewn corridor. Using a rope he had lowered earlier, he climbed through the opening and out of the cellar. He rushed from the kitchen toward the front door. Nothing guarded it this time, and Luke leaped out of the house into the night. He swept his flashlight in every direction but couldn't see the goat. Pulling out his keys, he jumped into the car, shoved the key into the ignition, and floored the accelerator. Blood covered him, already drying and turning sticky. Luke didn't know where he was going; he only wanted to get as far away as possible. After what felt like a long drive, he finally stopped. The road was deserted. Anger and fear tore at him from the inside.
"The devil!" he shouted. Luke pounded the steering wheel with all his strength until he heard a siren. He raised his head. In the distance, he could see the flashing lights of a police car. Luke leaned on the horn to get their attention. Two tall officers got out of the vehicle and approached his car.
"Sir, are you all right?" one of the officers asked, shining a flashlight inside.
"No. I'm not okay. I need help..." Luke looked at the officers, who were taken aback by what they saw. Their reaction told him things were even worse than he had thought. He began to doze off, slowly closing his eyes as he felt consciousness slipping away. It felt like dying, with one exception: Luke would wake up a few hours later. The last thing he saw before his eyes closed was the police talking on the radio. Apparently, his condition was serious. He could only hope and silently beg that they wouldn't trace his path back to the damned house.