The Machete Murder Mansion

or Don't Take a Dare From a Radio Station

By John Anster Fitzgerald - Flickr, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=39364099

Sean put down his sleeping bag and spread it out. “So, we’re really doing this?” He hadn’t seen his two best friends since last summer. 

Darlene chuckled and she turned up the electric lantern so they could all see better. “We are if we want to see the five grand.” She could use her third of the money. She was moving across the country in the fall to start a new job.  

“Easiest sixteen hundred I’ll ever make,” Raj said. “I’m going to use mine as a deposit on my apartment where I’m going to grad school.” He sat on his already spread-out sleeping bag eating pretzels from a Ziploc bag. 

“The rules the radio station set out said we have to stay here from 10 pm until 7 am. The DJ will call us every hour and there are webcams on each entrance to make sure we don’t leave. We won’t get any sleep.” Sean folded the printout and stuck it in his hoodie pocket. 

Darlene patted her backpack. “That’s why I brought the board games and Raj brought the snacks. You brought some graphic novels too, yeah?” 

Sean nodded. “Got some Chainsaw Man, The Cape, a few Elseworlds, and some Walking Dead. That covers demons, murderers, vampires, and zombies.” 

The house they sat in was in good shape, despite being the oldest in town. There wasn’t much in the way of furniture aside from the folding chairs the trio had brought. Cobwebs and dust were the only decorations. You could make out spots where pictures had hung on the walls by looking for lighter squares and rectangles.

“The Lowry House had been built in 1850.” Darlene read from a pamphlet she’d pulled out of her backpack. “It is believed to have originally been constructed on top of a pauper's grave site on the current property. The burial ground dates back to the Revolutionary War. It was moved in the 1920’s by the Lowry family to its current location. The Machete Murder occurred in 1976 and the house has been empty since then.” 

“My dad told me about the Machete Murder.” Raj zipped the pretzel bag closed and dropped it near the middle of the triangle made by their sleeping bags. “He’s a true crime nutter. The house had been sold to the St. George family in the early sixties. Their dad went nuts and hacked up his wife and three kids. Dad says he used a big ass meat cleaver.” 

“The papers love alliteration.” Sean chuckled.

“Let’s play a game.” Darlene brought out Catan and soon there was nothing but talk of having wood for sheep. 

The first few calls from the radio station came and went. By one o’clock they were playing cards, drinking Mountain Dew, and passing a pre-roll around. The game was interrupted when a red rubber ball bounced into view and rolled to a stop against their lantern.

“What the hell?” Darlene dropped her cards and scooted back from the toy like it was radioactive.

Raj laughed. “It’s got to be one of the radio guys messing with us. Hey, that’s not very funny.” He grabbed the ball and quickly dropped it. He shook his hand in pain.

“What’s wrong?” Sean asked

“It’s cold as fuck.” 

Sean touched the ball and jerked his hand back. “Like it's been in the freezer.” 

Darlene looked back and forth between her friends. “You’re not ser-.” Her sentence cut off as she touched the ball herself. “Jesus.” 

“Got to be the radio guys.” Sean muttered. 

Raj stood and grabbed the lantern. “Nothing for it but to check.” He gestured for his friends to stand. They did, Darlene more reluctantly. 

In a line, with Darlene in the middle, they walked all around the first floor. They left no door unopened and came back to the base of the stairs. Looking up the steep flight, and then to each other, they came to an unspoken decision to walk three abreast. The stairway was wide enough for it. The risers creaked, more from the weight in the center, but they felt sturdy. Someone could climb them silently if they walked near the edges of the steps. 

Once at the top, Darlene spoke up. “I’ll stay here. You guys check the rooms.” She reached in her pocket and pulled out her cellphone. “I’ll use this for light.” She flicked on the flashlight app and handed the lantern to Raj. 

“That way, no one can get past you or sneak out the front door.” Sean nodded. The front door was visible from the top of the stairs, if Darlene shined her light at it. It would mean turning her back on the rooms.

Raj turned on his own flashlight app. “I’ll check the doors on the left. Sean, you take the ones on the right.” The young men split up and began opening doors. Sean less cautiously than Raj. 

Darlene tried to watch them both, but it started to make her cross-eyed. That’s when she heard the noise behind her. It was a creak not unlike the one she’d made when climbing the stairs. She whirled around and shined her light into the face of nothing. She giggled nervously and that’s when she felt a chill run straight through her. It was like opening the deep freezer at the restaurant she worked at. She took a step backwards and her heel caught on something. 

The noise of her falling brought both of her friends running. She sat on her butt, shivering with a tear running down her cheek. “Are you okay?” Raj held out his hand and pulled her to her feet.

Sean trained his light around them, looking for the source of any disturbance.

“I’m okay,” Darlene said through chattering teeth. I thought I heard something and then I got a cold chill. Then I tripped. I got spooked is all.” She wiped her face on her sleeve.

“Well, the rooms are all empty. There’s a door to the attic, but it’s boarded shut.” Sean waggled his fingers and made a Theremin noise. “That shit’s not spooky at all.”

The trio laughed, though if the guys noticed that Darlene’s laugh was the weakest they didn’t say anything. Once they got settled back into their triangle, Sean’s phone rang. He hit the speaker icon, expecting to hear the DJ’s voice. Then he realized it was at least twenty minutes till the next call and there were no numbers on the caller ID.

Static filled the air. “Don’t stay. You need to leave. He’ll kill you.” The words were understandable even through the static. It was hard to identify age or gender.

“Who is this?” Raj yelled. 

“Yeah, this is not cool.” Sean hit the end button, but the static continued coming from the speaker. 

“Blood dripping from the walls. Cut your eyes out. Play with your intestines.” A giggle so loud it caused the speaker to clip the sound. Then all the sound died. 

“Fuck me.” Darlene’s chills had gone away, but they were back in full effect now. 

“You son of a bitch.” Raj hit Sean in the arm. 

“Fuck, what did you do that for?” Sean rubbed his arm where Raj punched him. 

“You made that to play a trick on us. That was your voice.” Raj stood up and jabbed his finger at his friend. 

“Why would he do that?” Darlene asked. “Why would you do that?” 

“I wouldn’t. Jesus. Sit down, Raj. If we don’t all stay, then none of us gets the money.” He gestured for Raj to calm down and sit. 

Raj made fists and then relaxed. “Then explain that.” He pointed at the phone and sat.

Sean shook his head. “I can’t. Unless it’s the…” 

“Don’t you say it.” Darlene warned. “Don’t you dare say the ‘G’ word.” 

Sean smiled. “I don’t believe in the ‘G’ word. It’s as mythical as the g-spot. Whatever happened to my phone, that was some kind of prank. Probably the radio station. They rigged the ball. Must have come out of a spring-loaded trap. They rigged some kind of wifi or cellular broadcast. Hell, it’s a radio station. They’re experts at that shit. They’re trying to keep their money.” 

Raj wagged his head back and forth. “You’re right. Let’s eat some snacks and play some cards.” 

Darlene reached into her bag and pulled out a flask. “I don’t know about you guys, but I need something a little stronger than soda.” She unscrewed the cap and took a pull of the warm vodka inside. With a grimace, she handed it to Sean. They passed it around a couple of times and then added generous tots to their drinks. It was better cold. 

When the radio station did their next check-in everyone jumped. Then they laughed. Sean answered it. “This is Sean.” 

“This is Jumpin’ John Scarlet callin’ from 100.7 the Jam. I'm calling to make sure you three are still doing alright, alright, alright.” Jumpin’ John did a passable McConaughey impression/ 

“We’re doing fine, my good sir.” He put the phone on the floor and hit the speaker button. Everyone say ‘faster, pussycat, kill, kill.” His friends echoed the movie title. 

“Excellente. Well, this next song goes out to you guys.” As the strains of “The Ripper” by Judas Priest came over the phone, the line disconnected. 

Phone call done, Darlene dealt the next hand. “Jumpin’ John has delightful taste in music. Speaking of which, Raj, why don’t you play some tunes? Anything not about a serial killer would be nice.”

Raj grabbed his phone and soon the first song in a K-pop mix filled the air. “At least this will keep us awake. It’s my little sister's mix.” 

“Suuuuure.” His two friends sang in unison. 

Minutes passed as the trio played cards and sang along. It turned out they were all closet fans of the genre. At around half past the hour their party mood was interrupted by the sound of wood cracking and a door swinging open upstairs. 

“Oh my shit, no.” Darlene threw down her cards. “I am not going upstairs to check that out. I am leaving right…fucking…now.”

“I’m going to join you.” Raj tossed his cards on the pile and stood, pocketing his cell.” 

“Hang on, guys.” Sean stood and held out his hands. “I’m not saying we should go upstairs. I’m not an idiot. But this is the station again. They put someone in the attic and then nailed them in with a few nails. Once we did the…” he stopped when he realized that his friends were looking at him with abject horror in their eyes. He could feel a chill running up his spine. He could smell blood and his own urine. 

Raj backed away, his hands held out in front of him. “Don’t look back, man.” 

Darlene was making grunting noises in the back of her throat. It looked like she was trying to move, but every visible muscle in her body was taut. 

---

The trio missed their next check-in. And their next. When the radio station called the police to do a well-check on the house, they were met with some degree of scorn. It was a slow night, though. The police officer who got to the scene first, Sergeant Bryan O’hara, had never seen anything like it. The Indian guy had tried to throw himself through a window for some reason. The glass was old and there were a few boards in the way. He didn’t make it, glass and splintered wood cutting into his gut and opening a major blood vessel or artery.

The next victim was the other young man. He had a red ball shoved so far in his mouth that his jaw hinges cracked and it blocked his windpipe. He had drawn one word into the wooden floor with blood from split lips, “CLOWN”. 

The girl wasn’t found right away. She was still alive, sort of. She was hiding in the pantry in the kitchen. She kept muttering something that sounded like Dripper. She was taken away by ambulance. 

The DJ who last spoke to them, Mike “The Silver Tongue” Lewis, said when he’d called at about two in the morning. Everyone sounded fine, if a little drunk. That’s why he played Margaritaville for them. 

No one ever figured out who killed these kids or if it was some kind of drug-fueled suicide pact. All the story ended up doing was creating one more ghost story, the Killer Klown Murders. The house was condemned and boarded up, but that didn’t stop kids from wanting to sneak in. Last winter, someone started a fire in the living room. From what the Fire Chief said, the whole place went up in less than thirty minutes.