part 7 trapped in the grass

Trapped in the Grass

The house was no longer a home. It was a prison, and Sarah could feel the walls closing in around her. The possession of Mark was the final confirmation that the house wasn't just haunted—it was alive, filled with ancient forces that had been waiting for the right moment to claim their next victim. But as terrifying as that was, Sarah knew one thing for certain: she couldn't stay here.

The following morning, after a restless night spent watching Mark closely and keeping her children close by, Sarah decided they had to leave. She couldn't let the house take anyone else, not when she had the power to stop it. The whispers had started again, more insistent than ever, but now they were mixed with the unmistakable feeling of being watched—watched by something other than the shadows, something that had been waiting for them to make a move.

She knew the house was trying to trap them in a way that went beyond its walls. As if it knew they were planning to escape.

Mark was still distant, but at least he was no longer a danger, at least not in the way he had been. The presence in him had receded, though the dark, hollow look in his eyes remained. He couldn't fully remember what had happened the night before, but there was no mistaking the fear in his face when he realized how close they had come to losing everything.

"We need to get out of here," Sarah told him quietly, after he'd woken and joined her in the living room.

"I agree," he said, though his voice sounded hollow. "But… we can't just leave. This place… it won't let us."

Sarah hesitated. "I know. But we have to try. For the kids. For us."

Mark's eyes flickered to the children, who were playing quietly in the corner. The house had done something to them too, though they were still unaware of the danger surrounding them. Sarah needed to protect them, even if it meant abandoning everything else.

They packed quickly, gathering the essentials—clothes, food, anything that might help them survive once they left. But when they stepped outside into the open, the world felt different. The air was heavy, and the sky, once blue and clear, had turned a sickly gray. The wind had picked up, but it felt unnatural, as if the land itself was reacting to their decision to leave.

The fields around the house stretched out endlessly, a sea of tall, overgrown grass. It had been a peaceful sight when they first arrived, but now it felt ominous. The grass, tall and thick, seemed to sway and whisper, bending unnaturally in the wind. Sarah shuddered as she stepped onto the path that led toward the road, her eyes scanning the horizon. There was no sign of life—no other houses, no cars, nothing. The world felt isolated, distant.

"We have to go through the field," Mark said, his voice tight. "It's the only way to reach the main road."

Sarah nodded, though a knot tightened in her stomach. The field seemed endless, and with every step she took, the feeling of being watched intensified. She tried to shake it off, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, but the whispers were growing louder, filling her ears with their unintelligible murmurs.

As they moved deeper into the field, the grass seemed to grow taller, closing in around them, blocking out the sun. The wind picked up again, but this time it wasn't just wind. It was something more sinister—a force that tugged at her clothes, at her hair, pulling her back toward the house, as if the land itself was trying to keep her within its grasp.

"Mark, do you feel that?" Sarah asked, her voice trembling.

He nodded, his face pale. "It's like… it's pulling us back. I can't explain it, but we need to keep moving."

They pushed forward, but with each step, the ground seemed to grow more uneven. The tall grass wrapped around their legs like living vines, and Sarah had to fight to keep her balance. The air grew thick, heavy with an unnatural stillness. It felt as though the whole world was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

And then, without warning, the ground beneath their feet shifted. Sarah let out a startled gasp as she felt herself being pulled down, her feet sinking into the earth as though it had turned to quicksand. Mark tried to grab her hand, but the pull was too strong. She was sucked deeper into the soil, her legs now completely immobilized.

"Sarah!" Mark shouted, his voice frantic. He grabbed her, trying to pull her back, but the earth was like a trap, an invisible force holding her down.

It wasn't just the earth beneath her that had changed. The grass itself was alive, twisting and writhing, pulling her further into the ground. It was as if the field had become part of the house, part of the curse that had bound them to this place. She could hear the whispering now—clear, like voices in her head, but distant. The voices of the spirits, calling her, begging her to stay, to give in.

"Let go, Sarah…" the voice whispered, but it wasn't Mark's voice. It was something darker, colder. "You can't leave. You belong to us now…"

Fear surged through her. She fought against the grass, against the earth that seemed to be trying to swallow her whole. "Mark, we need to get out! We need to run!"

But Mark was no longer there beside her. She looked up, her heart racing, only to see him standing a few feet away, his eyes glazed over, his face expressionless. He didn't seem to see her, as if he were lost in some kind of trance.

"Mark!" she screamed, but he didn't respond. He simply stood there, staring into the distance, like a puppet on strings.

The grass had reached her waist now, and Sarah's breath came in ragged gasps as she realized that she was no longer moving forward. She was stuck. The whispers in her mind grew louder, the voices urging her to surrender, to let the field take her, to let the house claim her once again.

"Mark!" she cried again, desperate, but it was no use. The world around her had become a blur of shadows and whispers, closing in on her, and she realized with a terrible certainty that they weren't just trapped in the grass. They were trapped in the land itself, bound by the same curse that had haunted the house for centuries.

She fought with everything she had, but the pull of the land was too strong, too powerful. It was as if the house had extended its reach beyond its walls, taking root in the very soil beneath her feet. The wind howled through the field, and for a moment, Sarah thought she saw something moving in the distance—something dark and formless, watching her.

Then, just as her strength began to fail, a new voice broke through the whispers—louder, clearer, and more urgent.

"Sarah! Run! Now!"

It was Mark's voice. His eyes were wide, filled with fear, and for the first time, he seemed to see her again. Without thinking, Sarah grabbed his hand, and together, they ran, the earth beneath them trembling as if trying to drag them back.

They didn't look back.

They didn't stop.

The whispers faded behind them, but Sarah knew deep in her heart that they hadn't escaped. The land had let them go—for now. But the house was still waiting. And it would never stop until it had them all.