Kalamaf Drackonsbane

The following story is my entry in a little writing contest over at scribblescratch.com

Gravel crunched as his car skidded to a stop in the driveway.  Karl quickly inspected the old run-down building. It looked like no one had lived there for years even though months of investigating had led him to this very spot. His heart beating faster with anticipation, he opened the door and stepped out of his car just as three more cruisers pulled up behind him.

Motioning to either side, silently directing officers to cover the back and side entrances to the house, Karl made his way to the front door. Drawing his weapon and preparing his mind for the worst, he banged loudly on the door and called out “This is Detective Midden, we have the place surrounded, come out slowly with your hands where we can see them”.

The only response from within the darkened home was an eerie silence, broken only by the swish of an old tire swing in a nearby tree, swaying in the cool afternoon breeze. Much like the rest of the surroundings, the tire’s rubber was cracked and rotted from years of neglect.

After a brief pause, Karl barked out “GO GO GO!” to his team and took a step back to kick in the door. The force of the blow knocked the old wooden door from it’s rusted hinges, causing it to fall inside, stirring up a cloud of dust as it fell. An overwhelming stench emanated from within. A stench of death and decay. This day was sure not going to end well.