Choir of Blood

I sighed silently reading yet another report of people hearing strange noises coming from an old abandoned house.

“Probably some drunks hallucinating again…” I muttered. As usual, I went to ask what they heard. I walked to their door and rang the bell to no answer. I waited a few minutes before going back to my patrol car to see if anyone would open the door.

“Why am I always stuck talking to the junkies?” I thought as I watched the door.

That’s when I heard it. A long, low wailing sound rang in my ears. The abandoned house was a few doors down, so my curiosity and duty drove me to investigate, despite the fear that twisted my stomach in knots. I turned on the flashlight I kept in my belt and swept it around, seeing no sign of life. I willed myself to keep going, softly whistling a comforting tune. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the shadows moving oddly. When I turned to look at them head on, they were completely normal.

“I’m just being paranoid now…” I sighed.

Climbing up a set of creaky old stairs, I found myself in a hallway with two large double doors at the end. I pushed aside the crazy things I imagined were behind the doors and slowly pushed them open. Inside was a large room, surprisingly much cleaner than the rest of the house, as if someone took the time to clean it recently. I felt terror grip it’s talons into my heart and uncertainty as my flashlight suddenly died. Looking around while my eyes adjusted to the dark, the low wails started up again, sounding much closer.

Again the shadows shifted around me as the wailing grew louder, seeming to be joined by other voices. I turned and screamed. All around me were people who were reported missing, last seen near this house. I even made out the faces of a few other officers who disappeared while patrolling nearby. I screamed, terrified for my life. I stepped back slowly and then make a break for the door, only to find that they were locked from the outside. I yanked at the door handles desperately, feeling the wailers pulling me away from it.

They dragged me to the middle of the room, tearing at me with their bare hands. I screamed, feeling more pain than I’d felt in a very long time. I reached and grabbed my nightstick and swung at them, watching slightly shocked as it went through them, not even leaving the tiniest scratch. This process continued for what felt like hours, but for all I know it could have been a few minutes. I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled out my pistol and shot at them, each bullet having the same lack of effect as the nightstick. In one final act of desperation, I put the barrel in my mouth, closed my eyes and… bang.