Scary Doorbell
The old house stood silhouetted against the bruised twilight sky, a gothic monstrosity of gables and gargoyles that seemed to exhale a palpable chill. Locals whispered stories about it, tales of a family tragedy, unexplained lights, and a pervasive sense of unease that clung to the air around its crumbling walls. I, of course, paid them no mind. A bargain was a bargain, and the ridiculously low rent was worth enduring a bit of local folklore, or so I thought.
The first sign that perhaps the rumors held a kernel of truth was the doorbell. It wasn’t the quaint, melodic chime you’d expect from a house of this supposed grandeur. Instead, it emitted a low, guttural groan, like a tormented beast struggling to free itself from some unseen torment. It vibrated not just through the door, but through the very floorboards, a physical manifestation of dread that made the hairs on my neck stand on end.
Initially, I dismissed it as an antiquated mechanism in desperate need of repair. I’d intended to replace it, but life, as it often does, got in the way. Unpacking, settling in, long days at my new job – the doorbell slipped further and further down the priority list. Besides, no one ever used it. Until they did.
It started subtly. I’d be engrossed in a book, the silence of the old house punctuated only by the creaks and groans of its settling frame, when the doorbell would sound. Just once. A drawn-out, mournful wail that sent a shiver down my spine. I’d rush to the door, heart pounding, only to find the porch empty, the street deserted. Thinking it was a trick of the wind or a prank by some mischievous neighborhood kids, I’d shrug it off and return to my book. But the feeling of unease lingered, a subtle poison seeping into my thoughts.
As the days turned into weeks, the frequency of the doorbell’s mournful ring increased. It began to sound at odd hours – late at night when the house was cloaked in an oppressive darkness, or in the pre-dawn hours when the world was still and silent. Each time, I’d find nothing. No one. Just the lingering echo of that awful sound and the oppressive silence that followed. The unease grew into a gnawing anxiety, a constant awareness of the doorbell and the potential for its chilling lament.
I started to rationalize. Perhaps the wires were frayed, causing a short circuit. Maybe a loose branch was hitting the button intermittently. I spent an afternoon inspecting the doorbell, tracing the wires, tightening screws, but found nothing amiss. Everything appeared to be in working order, albeit a very old and unsettling working order.
One particularly stormy evening, the doorbell’s torment reached a crescendo. The wind howled, rain lashed against the windows, and the house groaned under the onslaught of the elements. Then, above the din of the storm, I heard it: the doorbell, ringing incessantly, a continuous, agonizing shriek that seemed to penetrate my very soul. I hesitated, paralyzed by fear. Every instinct screamed at me to stay inside, to barricade myself against whatever horror awaited on the other side of the door. But curiosity, that insidious human trait, won out.
I crept towards the door, my hand trembling as I reached for the knob. I peered through the peephole. Nothing. Just the swirling rain and the flickering light of the porch lamp. I took a deep breath and threw open the door. The wind ripped through the house, extinguishing the lamp and plunging me into near darkness. As I struggled to regain my bearings, I heard it again, the distinct sound of the doorbell, but this time, it was different. It wasn’t the mournful groan I had grown accustomed to. This time, it sounded like a strangled whisper, a voice barely audible above the storm, a voice that seemed to say my name.
I slammed the door shut, my heart pounding in my chest. I stumbled back, away from the door, away from the voice, away from the chilling dread that had consumed me. I packed a bag, grabbed my keys, and fled the house, vowing never to return. The bargain, I realized, was far too high a price to pay.
As I drove away, I glanced back at the house one last time. The storm had subsided, and the moon peeked out from behind the clouds, casting a pale, ethereal glow on the old house. And then I saw it. Standing on the porch, bathed in moonlight, was a figure. A tall, gaunt figure, its face obscured by shadows, its hand resting on the doorbell. As I watched, the figure raised its head, and I could have sworn, though it was impossible, that it looked directly at me. And then, the doorbell rang, a single, mournful groan that echoed in the silence of the night, a sound that will forever haunt my dreams.
1000×1000 halloween spooky scary animated eyeball doorbell funiyou from www.funiyou.com 
1001×1001 wireless doorbell scary event funny halloween doorbell halloween from www.aliexpress.com 
1002×1002 pc creepy unique creative horror prop door decorations scary green from www.aliexpress.com 
2244×2992 doorbell haunted doorbell halloween decor animated doorbell etsy from www.etsy.com 
640×640 buy creepy creative unique halloween doorbell light from www.aliexpress.com 
810×810 halloween door decorations horror props doorbell screaming ghost head from www.aliexpress.com 
600×659 scary doorbells haunted house creepbay from www.creepbay.com