"I'm not happy about this," said Nicky, as she twiddled with her long, brown, curly hair, "you've seen what happened to Melanie after going there."
"I don't believe for one minute that what happened to Melanie is anything to do with the place," said Jason, "Okay, she changed from a straight A student who never gave a boy a second look to a slut who got herself expelled and is now working the streets. I think that was her way of rebelling against her controlling mum."
"I know her," said Nicky, "she was, after all, my bestie before she got so mixed up. I'm telling you that place did something to her."
"Look," replied Jason, "we'll be going in mob handed -- she went in alone. Nothing can happen to us as long as we stick together. This is our chance to make our way into television -- done right, this thing has the possibility of going national!"
"Just promise you'll stay with me at all times," pleaded Nicky.
"Of course," said Jason, taking hold of her hand and kissing her tenderly on the lips.
They walked the half mile to the rendezvous point with the tv crew, who were sitting in their van drinking coffee.
Ben, the presenter, got out of the cab and walked across to greet them.
"So, you're the local talent who presented this idea to the team?" he asked. Looking Nicky up and down, he said, "Talent sure is the right word for you."
Jason's fist clenched involuntarily but he knew he couldn't take umbrage if he was going to get his shot in tv. Instead, he put his arm around Nicky's shoulder and said, "Yeah, this beauty of mine has a lot going for her; she can go a long way given the right breaks."
Ben smiled at him and beckoned the remaining members of the crew to join them. As they arrived, he introduced them; "This is Jeff, the lighting man and this here's Georgie, our gorgeous girl with the camera. I'm always telling her she's far too pretty to be the wrong side of the camera, but she enjoys her work too much."
They all shook hands and Nicky asked, "So what are we waiting for?"
"The big chiefs thought it might add to the ratings if we had a priest with us to carry out some form of exorcism," said Ben, "He should be here by now."
As he finished speaking a moped came into sight and when it neared they saw the figure of a man wearing a dog collar was riding it. He drew up alongside them, parked up and dismounted. Walking over to them, he said "Good evening, Father Franklin at your service."
When the introductions were over, they all got into the van and drove the short distance to the house that was to be the venue for their little documentary that night.
Once parked up outside, they shot a short interview with Nicky and Jason, "the local experts" who knew the history of the place. The house had been the property of an elderly lady who lived alone. When she died she left it to her nephew, some sort of big wig in the city who never paid it any attention. The property had been empty for over twenty years and with no work being done to maintain it, was now in a poor condition externally and incredibly dusty inside. There were stories of strange events over the years; people disappearing, others coming out of the building babbling and muttering and never recovering their sanity. Most recently, there was the case of Melanie, the star pupil who had turned into a prostitute.
Once this brief interview was finished, Father Franklin insisted that they all join him in a short prayer to ask for God's care and guidance during the night ahead. Everyone, that is, except for Georgie, who had the task of filming them in prayer.
Jason knew this hadn't been scripted by the crew and decided the priest was just trying to get a bit of the limelight for himself.
Once finished, they started the trek up the long path to the front of the building. Unlike previous "visitors", Jason had the keys from the agents who "looked after" the building for the absent owner. Talk about money for nothing, thought Jason, as he approached the front door, they take the money for just holding the keys; no-one had been here to carry out any cleaning or repairs since the disappearance of Tommy Johnson fifteen years ago.
Georgie was filming the other five as they approached the house, all carrying various items of equipment that they would need for the night ahead. She zoomed in as Jason inserted the key in the lock and turned it; he pushed open the door and they were all hit by a musty smell. The air inside the house was warmer than externally, making them feel uncomfortable; Nicky grabbed Jason by the arm, "I don't like it," she whispered.
Ben took over at this point, carrying out a quick reconnaissance of the ground floor rooms before deciding that they should set up in what appeared to be an old drawing room. He ushered everyone into the room and did a quick check of their equipment and supplies.
"Okay," he said, "who forget to bring the water? I'm not drinking anything from the taps in this place."
Jeff offered to go back to the van to get the box of bottled waters and quickly departed. As he opened the front door to leave, a gust of wind blew into the house, slamming shut the door to the room that the others were in. Nicky jumped but Jason reassured her that it was only the wind.
When Jeff returned to the house, carrying the waters, the front door was shut. He put the box down and tried to push it, but it was firmly closed. He knocked on the door to no avail and tried calling out, but no-one came to let him in.
"Sod this for a game of soldiers," he thought. In his youth, Jeff had been a minor delinquent and had broken into a number of houses, carrying out petty thefts. He walked around the side of the house to the back. Looking up he could see a window slightly ajar on the first floor. As he looked at his options, he could see that he could reach the window from the flat roof of the rear extension, if said roof was capable of supporting his weight. He clambered up onto the window ledge of the extension and then reached up to the edge of the roof above; using all his strength he managed to pull himself up so that his waist was level with the roof and manoeuvred one leg over the roof before rolling onto the roof. "So far, so good," he thought, as he carefully rose to his feet. He gingerly walked across the roof to where he could access the window and pulled it further open. Looking inside, he could see that it was a bedroom; there was still a bed and some old dust covered furniture. He levered himself up and through the window, landing with a bang on the wooden flooring.
"What was that," asked Nicky nervously, "It sounded like it came from upstairs."
Jason put his arm around her, "It was probably the wind," he said, looking at Ben and Father Franklin for re-assurance.
They both agreed with him and then Ben said, "I'm gonna go and see what's taking Jeff so long with those waters. He's probably chatting to his girl again on the phone."
He left the room and the door swung shut behind him. Reaching the front door, he found he couldn't open it and reasoned that he must need the key to open it from the inside as well. As he returned to the room that the others were in, he couldn't open that door either; he banged on the door and got no response. He started calling out their names, again, no response.
Inside the room the four that were remaining didn't hear a thing. Georgie had put her camera down for a rest as nothing interesting was happening and they were stood in a circle chatting about the night ahead and trying to work out what the next steps would be in their exploration of the house.
Ben had given up on getting back into the room through the door he had exited and remembered that there had been another door leading into the room. He wandered off looking for the adjoining room so that he could try to get back to his colleagues. His search led him into what was the old kitchen, it was dark here and he needed the torch on his phone to illuminate his pathway. He opened a door that looked promising, entered and explored, using his torch. He jumped as the door slammed shut behind him. He soon realised he was in what must have been a pantry and retraced his steps back to the door; it was stuck fast and try as he might he could not budge it. He began pounding his fists on the wood in the hope that someone would hear him and let him out of his prison.
Back in the drawing-room, Father Franklin was moving uncomfortably from one foot to the other, eventually saying, "I need the little boys' room -- weak bladder," and he walked to the door that they had come in through. It opened straight away, and he went in search of a toilet to ease his discomfort. After relieving himself, he left the toilet, but his attention was taken by some church-like music coming from a room further along the corridor. He assumed that one or other of the crew had found the house's chapel and was trying out the organ. Following the sound, he opened a door and went inside. The music was louder here and he could now make out the additional sound of singing. As he ventured further in, he could make out the shape of what appeared to be a choirboy bent over the altar.
"What are you doing here?" he enquired.
The choirboy just continued singing as Father Franklin approached closer. The choir boy was now hitching up his cassock, "Once more, for old times' sake," aid the young man.
Father Franklin wanted to turn and run but he seemed frozen in the moment. The fly on his zip was undone and his cock was out; he couldn't remember doing it but couldn't think how else it could have happened. Without wanting to, he was approaching the bare backside awaiting him at the altar; he reached down and spread the bum cheeks apart, marvelling at the soft pink flesh in his grasp and the little red anus awaiting his pleasure. Taking his penis in one hand he pressed it against the tight opening and pushed inside. His passage was easy, and he reasoned that this was an arse that regularly took a pounding. As he started to thrust in and out of the choirboy's bum, the choirboy turned his head and looked at him.
"Remember me, Father?" he asked, "I was your first."
"But that's not possible, you took your own life, you're dead," he said as the blood drained from his face.
"Yes Father, but tonight is special" said the choirboy as his face changed from that of a normal being to a mess of bone and rotting flesh.
The priest tried to withdraw his member from the arse of the horrific creature now bent over the altar but it was held in what seemed like a vice-like grip. He sensed rather than heard movement behind him but before he could turn his face, two red claw-like hands grasped his shoulders. A voice straight from hell itself said "Welcome to my congregation. I am going to have fun with you."
One of the claws ripped away his trousers and the priest felt a searing pain as the creature drove its cock into his arse. Returning the claw to his shoulder again, the creature proceeded to pound the priest as his claws raked down the priest's back.
