The Killer from the House of Rhoads

It was a dreary Thursday afternoon. My family was moving once again. I hated moving! I have to say goodbye to all of my friends and shit. Apparently, my parents found a HUGE place by the countryside. I thought to myself, this can't be happening. We're moving to the country? At least the house is going to be big. We arrived after a few hours. As we were driving into the driveway of our new home, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. It sort of creeped me out. The atmosphere of the day didn't really help much either: it was cold, windy, and the clouds were quite opaque. My mom asked if I was OK. I just shrugged.
I walked into our new house. It looked really old. My parents told me the house was around 100 years old. I decided to do some exploring. The grand hall was quite elegant, if I can say so myself: carpeting along the staircase, nicely finished railings, an amazing chandelier hanging from the ceiling... I honestly didn't believe this house was a day over 30 years old. The dining hall was just as flashy: nicely furnished chairs surrounding a hardwood table, ambient lights all around... the perfect place to eat a meal. So far, my thoughts were, I'm going to like living here. I continued my exploration of the house. I checked out the bedrooms, the kitchen, the bathrooms (did I mention each bedroom has their own bathroom? Pretty sweet, huh?)... pretty much every inch of the house. Except for a locked door near the end of the hallway where my room was located. That door was always in my mind. Why would the previous owner just lock a door and NOT give the next owners the key? This raised my curiosity further. Luckily, I trained myself to pick locks. But I had to do it when everyone else was sleeping. If I did it directly after dinner, my parents could possibly think I'm crazy or some messed up shit like that.
It was late at night, around 1 AM. I heard no noises coming from the house. So I decided to make my move. I slowly opened my door, being extra careful not to let the creaking wake anyone up, when suddenly, I heard a sound coming from the kitchen! I assumed it was the kitchen because I heard the sound of banging pots and plates breaking. Fuck! My mom must still be up... but wait. There are no lights on. This house is also so old that I probably would've heard her going down the stairs.
I decided to keep going. That's when it happened again! Another horrible noise. This one sounded like the noise of a slamming door. I started whimpering, like the pussy I am. This place was starting to freak me out. That's when I saw something out of the corner of my eye! A shadowy figure going towards that mysterious door. But it looked familiar... could it have been the same mysterious figure that I saw earlier? I was scared shitless, but curiosity got the best of me. I HAD to investigate.
It turns out whatever went into that mysterious doorway left the door unlocked. No lock picking necessary. So I just walked in. I turned on my phone so I could have a light source. I saw a long, spiral stairway going down. Of course, being the curious fucker I am, I went down. As I was walking down, I started hearing some ominous noises; I could've sworn I heard faint laughter! I continued to get creeped out, but curiosity continued to get the best of me.
I reached the bottom of the staircase. I used my phone to investigate. So this is the basement of this house? I wonder why the original owner would lock up the basement?... That's when I noticed a desk over by the corner of the room. Once again, I continued to be a curious little fucker and investigate. I saw numerous newspaper articles and journal entries, one of them dating back to the 1930s! I read the headline: "Controversial Murder Mystery Dinner Has A Psychopath at Large!" I thought, What the Hell? I thought murder mystery dinners were just fake. A scripted party filled with clueless people running around while the hosts act out a murder mystery. I continued to investigate: "10 Dead After Horrifying Hallowe'en Prank!" "Unexplained Murders Continue In Our Humble Abode!" "Psychopath Escapes From Highest Security Asylum!". I also started reading journal entries. Many of them were interesting. It told some stories of previous owners. There was one that really caught my eye. It was actually written about a year ago. It read:
==November 16, 2008==
I am officially terrified. I believe this mansion of a house is haunted. Every night, I keep seeing shadows everywhere. Even worse, I keep hearing some maniacal cackling from an area of the house. I have done some investigation, and it turns out this house used to belong to the Rhoads family. Back in 1931, the Rhoads family held their annual murder mystery dinner. However, their 10 year old son was nowhere to be found. That, however, wasn't supposed to be part of the mystery.
Hour after hour, dead bodies were found. But if you're reading this, it's not what you think! Invited guests turned up dead everywhere. They appeared to have been stabbed through the heart. The Rhoads' decided to move on with their lives and continue the party, until the end of the murder mystery dinner... what happened? Just before they revealed the culprit of the fake mystery, their son (who's name I know know was Allen Rhoads) appeared out of nowhere. However, he did not look normal. An eyewitness described him as having skin paler than that of a hairless cat. His eyes were bloodshot red, and he appeared to have given himself a Glasgow smile, according to the eyewitness. Apparently, the eyewitness was the only survivor of this night.
Allen threw hundreds of knives directly at the guests. He killed them all, and they say he killed his parents in the kitchen using broken plates and steel pots. I decided to research further. Why would a 10 year old boy all of a sudden just go insane and kill his parents, along with their entire guest list for the murder mystery party? As it turns out, Allen was neglected as a child. His rich, snobby parents paid no attention to him whatsoever. His best friend was apparently a doll he kept by his side. He eventually drove himself to the only solution he could think of: murder the neglectful parents.
Many years later, Allen would lurk around and stalk a group of teenagers playing pranks on Hallowe'en night. Apparently, it was Allen who set up a trap and killed the teenagers as well as innocent kids. Allen must have been a mastermind, because the police just blew it off as a Hallowe'en prank gone wrong. Eventually, many murders continued to take place, with no possible explanations. However, thewy did manage to capture Allen and lock him up in an asylum. However, this was a critical mistake. Eyewitnesses say he killed everyone in the asylum and escaped.
After researching all of this, and the unexplained phenomena that keep happening in this house, I have come up with this conclusion: this house is haunted by the spirit of Allen Rhoads and the many victims he claimed. I honestly feel bad for his spirit. He never had a true childhood. All he wanted was to be loved. Instead, he was driven to insanity.
I have made up my mind and I am going to leave this house immedi..."
It ends there. All that was left was a gigantic bloodstain. I decided whoever wrote this was murdered. But who? I decided to believe the author of that journal entry and decide that the house was haunted.
I decided to check up on my family. I walked into my sister's bedroom. But she wasn't there! My parent's room: empty. I decided to go investigate the grand hall. Nothing. I walked into the kitchen, and something didn't feel right. I found the light switch... and I regret turning on the light to this day! I saw the bodies of my family: my sister, cut up and mangled, with her intestines dangling from her abdomen. My mother, stripped naked and torn limb from limb. My father: dismembered, decapitated, and left in a pool of blood. I was angered by this. I shouted, "Allen! If you are here, show yourself! That's when I saw it: the same shadowy figure walking over to me. It was holding a knife. He lunged for me, and I barely escaped. I started running like hell, trying to escape the wrath of the Ghost of Allen Rhoads. I ran as far as I could, but I felt as if he was following me! My heart was racing, I could feel it pounding against my chest. That's when I blacked out...
...I woke up in what looked like the emergency room of a hospital. A nurse was standing by my bed. "You were hurt pretty badly, weren't you?" I couldn't speak, so I just nodded in agreement. "Don't worry, I lost my brother in that house. I've heard the legend of Allen Rhoads. And it is no legend. His ghost really does haunt that house."
To this day, I consider myself lucky to be alive. I could've been killed by that thing. I have written this in my new downtown apartment. I hope that some day, somebody reads this so that they can warn people. I do not want anyone suffering the fate of those poor murder mystery guests, those teenagers, the nurse's brother, and my family. I hope that this story will be passed on so nobody else will have to experience the Wrath of Allen Rhoads...
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