In the quiet town of Willowbrook, nestled between rolling hills and dense forests, there was an old, abandoned house on the outskirts. Locals whispered stories about it, stories that were never meant for the ears of children or the faint-hearted. They called it the “Drooling House,” and those who dared to speak of it would quickly change the subject when they saw the fear in the eyes of the listener.
The house had once belonged to an eccentric recluse named Mr. Thorne. He was a man who kept to himself, and the townsfolk had always been wary of him. After his mysterious disappearance, the house was left to rot, and strange occurrences began to plague the area. Some claimed to hear faint, wet noises coming from the house at night, like the sound of someone¡ªor something¡ªdrooling incessantly.
One summer evening, a group of five friends, eager to prove their bravery, decided to explore the Drooling House. They were all in their early twenties, full of youthful arrogance and a thirst for adventure. As they approached the house, the air grew colder, and an eerie silence enveloped them. The once-grand mansion now stood as a decaying relic, its windows shattered and its walls covered in moss and vines.
“Are you sure about this?” Sarah, the most cautious of the group, asked nervously.
“Come on, Sarah,” Jake, the self-proclaimed leader, replied with a smirk. “It’s just an old house. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
With a deep breath, Sarah reluctantly followed the others as they pushed open the creaky front door. The interior was dark and musty, with cobwebs hanging from the ceiling like ghostly curtains. The friends moved cautiously through the house, their flashlights casting eerie shadows on the walls.
As they ventured deeper into the mansion, they began to hear strange noises. It started with faint, wet sounds, like someone licking their lips. The noise grew louder and more distinct, until it was unmistakable¡ªthe sound of drooling. The friends exchanged uneasy glances, their bravado beginning to waver.
“Let’s get out of here,” Sarah whispered, her voice trembling.
But before they could turn back, they heard a low, guttural growl coming from the shadows. Panic set in, and the group scattered, each person trying to find their way out of the house. Sarah found herself alone in a dimly lit room, her heart pounding in her chest. She could hear the drooling sounds all around her, and the growling had grown louder, closer.
Suddenly, she felt something brush against her leg. She looked down and saw a pair of glowing, yellow eyes staring up at her. She screamed and stumbled backward, tripping over a broken chair. As she lay there, paralyzed with fear, she saw the creature emerge from the darkness. It was a grotesque, humanoid figure, its mouth dripping with a viscous, foul-smelling liquid.
The creature moved with unnatural speed, lunging at Sarah. She managed to roll out of the way just in time, but she could feel its hot, foul breath on her neck. She scrambled to her feet and ran, her mind racing with terror. She burst through the front door and into the night, not daring to look back.
The others had managed to escape as well, but they were all shaken and traumatized. They huddled together, their minds replaying the horrifying encounter. They knew they had to leave Willowbrook, to get as far away from the Drooling House as possible.
As they drove away, they couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. The sound of drooling seemed to follow them, echoing in their minds long after they had left the town. They never spoke of that night again, but the memory of the Drooling House haunted them for the rest of their lives.
Years later, the house still stands, a dark reminder of the horrors that lurk in the shadows. And on quiet nights, when the wind howls through the trees, the townsfolk can still hear the sound of drooling, a chilling reminder that some nightmares are very real.
