Hello
Ok I'll admit it... I just made this so I could talk to my friend Eric since he has a blog here...
If I have any real news I guess I'll put it here...
Oh the title refers to my b/f Mark. It's a long story...
Jen
posted by JennyLevin @ 8:50 AM
38 Comments:
Brilliant. :)
Thanks for the link to your blog, Jen. Glad you've got a place to talk.
I followed this rabbit hole from:
http://www.livejournal.com/users/ohdanigirl
Good luck with your search.
*blinks, bows, then waves her hand wildly in the air* If the house comes for you, take me with you!
oh fuck that's my house
wootwoot
I hope you update this blog, Jenny. There are a lot of us who want to know what's going on.
I know you probably get a lot of this, but I'd like to help you. Please, if there is anything I can do to help, e-mail me at zantheman@gmail.com. Good luck Jenny.
I have followed this story from a link on keenspot and am currently trying to digest the lot of it. I've dealt with some strange things in my life and would like to offer my services if you need them. If this is for real then I want to help. I'm in Dallas and Houston is a fairly short trip. keep me posted please.
Thanks
Extremely riveting stuff. I agree with the above comment of “Brilliant”.
so very special are you, creator of the dionaea house story. so very special and... retarded. oh no! jenny's going to die because the house wants to eat her soul!
so very special are you, creator of the dionaea house story. so very special and... retarded. oh no! jenny's going to die because the house wants to eat her soul!
Taj, shut up. I beleive this story completely.
I want to see this house. Jenny, you are the companion to mark, so this is all connected. You met mark, mark knew andrew, andrew was driven crazy in the house, then he moved, new people came in and you baby sat for them. Mark, andrew you and eric are all friends and all linked to this house.
It is a great story, and very through in how the author used several different webjournals to support and create evidence. However, the author, Eric Heisserer (do a search on his name) is still alive and still writing; it is a story and only a story micah.
Eric, could you post a list of everything you've written? I'd like to read more.
Interesting. I do like the jumping around from site to site. Kinda makes it seem more real.
Maybe in the future, add a tad bit more back story on Mark, and Jen. The characters would be even better I felt more connected to them.
Overall great job!
I've got chills. I've got genuine chills. Outstanding.
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So hard trying to figure all of this out when people are telling me this was supposed to be an advertisement for a movie or something.
I don't know, maybe Eric is still out there and maybe he tried to pull a profit out of this great big mess but the door got closed, didn't it? The door got closed, the onion got peeled, and you know, we all know now how we all cry when onions get cut, and the production was cut suddenly right on the set, for no reason, and everyone cried. No reason! HA! HAHA ! Biggest joke of my fuckin' life, man. Something happened in that studio, and I hope something happened to Eric for profiting off our pain.
Rented one of these houses out months ago in Iowa. I brought in my six parakeets and they dyed, they pecked each other to death. I keep seeing them there in their cage flopped out with their wings open and their heads twisted, eyes looking at nothing. Blood everywhere.
The rental agency never came to fix any of the problems, they didn't care, and when my birds died I tried burying them in the yard. I'm sure those of you who know these houses remember the backyard, with the one tree and the brick patio with roots growing out of it and the grass that always comes back overgrown no matter how hard you mow it, so I buried them birds out by the tree. Or I tried at least, but my shovel couldn't go into the ground. It was cement under there. There was cement underneath the hole lawn, tree and all. Heaven knows how the grass grows.
Wait. I have to compose myself. I've been winning against them for so long and now is the chance that I finally get to tell my tale. I have to get my thoughts straight.
Okay. Deep breath.
For some reason, everyone I've spoken with who survived this horror (which is two to this date, and both are now dead) have experienced the same feeling I experience - an acceptance of the madness in these houses ... these things.
My birds are the best example I can give; when I came back inside with their tiny bodies after trying to bury them (ha ha!), I figured the only logical thing to do was to put them in the disposal and grind them up. So I did.
Pippy, Squirt, Thor, Peanut, Gimpy, and Peeples. I'll never forget the order that I put them in the drain. And there was no mess, no blood anywhere in the sink ... not even in the disposal itself. It was like the sink sucked in every feather and every drop of blood. I got a beer out of the fridge and watched the Cowboys clobber the Giants, 45-35, and I wondered whenever Marietta would come downstairs (wait, who is Marietta?). Anyway Eli Manning was 28 for 41 with 312 yards passing, 4 touchdowns, and an interception. Tony Romo was 15 for 24 with 345 yards and likewise 4 touchdowns and an interception. I could go on; I counted the yards, I counted the plays, I counted everything and remembered all of it. But Marietta never came out from behind the door because it was closed, and she never came downstairs because the cinnamon rolls were so damned good.
But it was May. May. The football game wouldn't actually transpire until last week (I'm writing this 14 Sept. 2007). So how could I have seen that game in May? But I did, you bet your life. But that's okay because it was game night a week later; D&D night; the night I got the hell out of there.
Derrick, Mik, and Yosh came over and before we got started I told them what happened. D and Mik didn't believe me bot Yosh believes in all that spiritual shit, since he practices that Tonto Indian religion. In no time he got some peyote, said it would connect us to the house and calm its spirits. I held back my dose and watched them get high, we chanted for a while. It wasn't long before Mik was dripping something white from his mouth and D was convulsing, and Yosh began eating his hands like fried chikkin. Man what a funny site that was!
Anyway, I blew their heads off with my shotgun (you just wouldn't understand) and left the house without a thing but my wallet and the clothes I was wearing. Man, the book collection I left in there.
I took all my money out from the bank as cash because I knew what was coming, somehow. Of course no cops came after me. The boys went missing but were never found. I was not a suspect because I didn't exist anymore at that point I guess.
Of course, when I returned there (to the house, god damn it) one week later from Des Moines high off of heroin and intent on getting my damn books back, another family had already moved in. And I knew if I went to the door they would gladly let me have the red room.
So I stayed on the streets in Des Moines, buying H off cash and shooting up to maintain my sanity. I used the library computer and researched and found all the sites and did what searching I could. And when the joggers came I knew I had to move, baby. I had to boogie.
I took the bus and radiated outward from Des Moines, going home in each city and finding the houses looking the same and getting the same old shit from the neighbors and the same old, red feeling. They were all old friends waiting for me, those houses, and I wanted to go in so badly, to kill the people holding my place, but I won each time. I made it.
But the best news was Andover, Kansas. The address for THAT one was on 46th street or something, near McConnell AFB or some shit. It was gone - all that remained was a foundation split apart in the middle and roses in the crack.
An old neighbor said a tornado smashed through the area in '91, and took all the houses down on the street, including MY HOUSE. I asked him what he remembered and he said nothing, that the house had been abandoned, and that it landed in the street torn off from its foundation but perfectly intact.
He said it was so strange what tornadoes could do keeping that house practically whole after throwing it, he helped clean that mess up, see, and when he and the cleaning crew broke the house apart the wood was rotten through and through. He said he never liked the house, that badmouthing son of a bitch. He said that he felt God Himself had gotten sick of it and wiped it from the face of the planet with that storm. I can't describe the anger and hurt that remains with me to this day from those words. I cut him and his wife to pieces the next day and fed their faces to his black labs. This was about the first of August.
So the Dr. Hyde side of me tried to find other people who had survived, and I found a couple in Tulsa who wanted to help. I told them the houses could be killed somehow, that if God didn't do it then our force of will would somehow have to do it, but I said I had promised Marietta to not do it while she was upstairs. But they broke that promise in Katy and when we tried to burn the house down we fought and I, being younger and redder, won. I burned their bodies in the house and they smelled like sweet, sweet cinnamon, and home felt good all over again.
That's were I am now, you can come by and see me. Please help me, please help me. I'm out of skag so there's nothing left to calm me, I'm actually starting to lose (our little secret!) but that's okay because my book collection is back.
And of course I still take my daily walks in the morning. Some mornings I find the urge to jog.
Also here's a list of stuff I've found out. I have to right this down quickly because I don't know what's relevant and what's not anymore. Marietta doesn't like me using computers in the house.
1. The house is your judge, juri, and executioner.
2. Is susceptible to the people to whom it is susceptible. Peeples have lived here before and been fine, nonbelievers and strong Christians and such.
3. The stomach is above the ceiling on the northwest side in each one. The brain is behind the door. Do I have to tell you what the mouth is?
4. The DuMont network still airs on any TV set you bring in here, on channel 01, whether cable is hooked up or not. It's in black and white. The DuMont network didn't survive 1953 but NBC, CBS, and ABC sure did. I can watch Jackie Gleason and the old soaps from the late 40's and some pretty good boxing matchups but the teevie turns off whenever Bishop Fulton Sheen's program is gonna come on.
5. I have textbooks and textbooks of math memorized. When I think I'm done theres more textbooks. I spend most my day on it now. When'd I learn so much math in college?
*applauds*
This has got to be the best story I've ever read.
Mad respect for the format. This is great shit. I want to hear more.
Unfortunately, it seems to be in what some people call 'Developer's Hall.' I'd LOVE to see this film!
Hi Jenny I have just read the emails from Mark Condry, I am all of intrigued, shocked and scared. My sympathy goes out to you but my curiorisity leads me to ask have you followed up on Mark's research?
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Hey! This is absolutely genius! Please update us on when the film happens-i hope it does.
:]
This is an insanely genius idea! I stumbled upon a gold mine of these horror stories, and they are the most riveting things I have ever read. Keep posting because I really want to know what happened next...
Aw, leaving comments activated? Sloppy. Took me right out of the experience. I'd disable and delete them if I were you.
Sweet merciful fuck this freaked me out the first time I read it.
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