Satanhouse
an excerpt

In emotional discontent, a boy would walk each day (about quarter past four) by the quaint Victorian house. He saw very little in this dwelling, though curiosity called within him. While the boy had never talked to him, with one of those who lived in this house he shared 3rd period Biology class. They naught spoke because the boy who lived here was "strange." Not strange, but stranger than strange, an outcast even to the outcasts.

This strange young man was not the only one who lived here, there were others. The lot of them were ranged in late high school/college age. An older man owned the home, his calm yet intense demeanor chilling to the spine any time he was seen. This boy who walked had never spoken with any of them, yet took mental notice each day he passed at the home, and being overwhelmed with the intoxicating eeriness which was given off by the house.

The same thoughts, the same chill, the same dismissal of something familiar and not quite forgettable. Now at the corner, he looked back with one quick glance, and turned back to his course. This was SATANHOUSE.