Radical Ron mini-horror story : " Amos House Re-visited

Amos'House Revisited (fiction) Mr. Amos Rustigan, a sour, wasted, middle aged bachelor, had a 20 year old nostalgia for his old family home on Hawthorne Street in Old Pawtuxet Village , near Providence, Rhode Island . A bit of a miser , Amos now had enough money in the local bank to buy that old - decayed aristocracy - " mansion " back... if only the low lifes who now occupied it would ever vacate it . And the dream wish happened late in October of 1999. Amos quickly contacted his old friend Silas at Pawtuxet Village Real Estate. Late on the night of October 31 , Amos gazed at a the old skeleton key, coruscating in the bluish light of the seedy Gaspee Lounge. It was now about 3 o'clock in the morning , that most ungodly hour. Amos found himself at the very door of the family mansion. " That beautiful, solid door has not changed at all ", he reflected. A bizarre image of his long dead grandfather - an immigrant from the old country ( and a suicide by drowning ) - mysteriously appeared on the heavy bronze knocker. " That hideous vinyl siding will have to go ", Amos resolved. How he hated all unnatural things! But immediately Amos was a aware of a human presence in the sacred childhood home. An eerie blue light blinked on and off in the kitchen. Amos beheld a whole family - numbering 13 - a strange and unattractive bunch, but not really sinister looking , seated around the old oak family table. They just stared at him with the fish eye stare. " I must call the police right now ! " Amos yelled. " You people have no business here ". Then the father of the clan got up threateningly from his chair. The table had been oddly set for a formal dinner, but the 13 were munching uncouthly on Silver Lake Pizza. When the father reached for Amos' throat, he grabbed the antique phone still hanging on the kitchen wall. He tried to call 911 but could hear nothing but static. Amos struck the strange man on the face with the receiver. But the man was made of SILLY PUTTY or something ! His face was hellishly distorted into a hideous, amorphous sight. Instantly the ghastly stuff of the invader's face stuck to Amos' hand. And soon the right hand of Amos was a throbbing, bloody, red pulp. Amos felt it to be on fire . Then the whole brood of aliens got up at once with those expensive family steak knives in their hands. Amos knew that he was to be sacrificed for their angry god. He screamed all the louder. Suddenly Amos woke up in that filthy, squalid room he rented above the lonely waterfront bar. " No more CHEAP BEER for me ", he resolved. The skeleton key was still in his hand .