THE HOUSE OF EVIL LAUGHTER

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🌟 Editor's Note

Please be advised this content is for mature audiences. Regina Young and “Young Realty” are figments of the authors imagination. This is a Human-AI Hybrid Creation. Stay Creative :)

“HOUSE.ROC Productions” & “MeeMeeandMedia”- Real Estate Entertainment present:

“The Old Adventures of Regina Young”

The House of Evil Laughter

The house sat on the edge of the cliff, staring down at the restless ocean like a sinister sentinel. Its faded white paint peeled in the salty breeze, and shattered windows flickered with the last fading light of an angry sunset. Neon signs from the nearby town cast eerie glows that danced across the cracked walls — but inside, darkness ruled.

The air was thick with the scent of decay and something darker — old blood, whispered secrets, and the bitter tang of fear. This wasn’t just a house. It was a tomb for the past. A place where laughter didn’t warm, but echoed — cold, cruel, and mad.

Locals whispered of screams carried on the wind, of shadows moving where no light should reach, and of the cursed history that stained every inch of the mansion. They said the walls whispered names — names of the murdered, the missing, the forgotten.

No one had the courage to come close. Even the kids in their bikes would come strolling up the hill, drunk on teenage courage, would start getting chills as they approached. The house had eyes, features too eerie to deny. The framed wooden porch formed a smile of sorts. And the wind… as the wind brushed against the abandoned foliage and semi open doors, the House would utter an indescribable sound. A laugh that would haunt anyone who hears it.

The whole town agreed they had to do something about this building. The amount of visitors, owners and children that disappeared without trace. Not everyone was in agreement on how to do it… But who were they gonna call?

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Regina Young parked her convertible and stepped through the rusted gate, her heels clicking sharply against the cracked stone path and she was no ordinary visitor. She came with purpose, with secrets of her own: and her CLIPBOARD.

There was work to be done. Regina adjusted the strap of her proton pack and smoothed the lapel of her blazer. The fog curled low over the crooked iron gate, and the mansion ahead loomed like a shadow that had decided to grow teeth. Most agents would’ve turned heel the moment the front door creaked open by itself…

Regina was NOT like most agents.

She came ready with her trusty clipboard — contracts neatly clipped and ready, a fountain pen poised for signatures from the living or otherwise.

Ghosts or no Ghosts- paperwork is going to be signed. Regina is no Fool.

Inside, the place had “good bones.” Sure, the wallpaper bled occasionally and a grandfather clock in the hall whispered her name in Latin, but Regina had sold worse.

“Open concept, original moldings, light demonic activity,” she said aloud, jotting notes on her clipboard.

Her measuring tape dangled from her belt, alongside a laser measurer for those dim hallways where shadows didn’t just flicker… they followed. She hits the light switches at no avail.

“ Bring candles to the Open House” She wrote down on her pad - “a little mood light would do this place wonders. And tons of glade”.

The marble countertops in the kitchen gleamed in the light — though a faint smear of something red trickled down the backsplash. Regina made a mental note: market this as “rustic character.”

Regina’s footsteps echoed hollowly as she crossed the grand foyer, the worn wooden floorboards creaking beneath her weight like whispered warnings. The air was thick and cold, wrapping around her like a shroud. Shadows pooled in every corner, alive and watching.

She paused beneath the grand staircase, her breath visible in the chill. The faintest sound brushed her ears — a low, mocking chuckle that slid through the silence like a blade. Her pulse quickened.

“Who's there?” Her voice was steady, but the room swallowed the sound, leaving only the sinister echo.

The walls murmured. A draft brushed the back of her neck. She didn’t flinch — just slid her Ecto-goggles into place. Two faint figures hovered over the grand staircase, glaring at her “FOR SALE” sign with indignation.

“ I understand your attachment to this property. I don’t get paid to judge - I get paid to sell.”

“On a scale of 1-10, how honest do you want me to be?”

The shadow figures were perplexed…

The walls seemed to shift, the peeling wallpaper curling as if breathing. Then came the laughter again — dry, cruel, and endless. It bounced from one room to the next, filling the house with madness.

Regina’s fingernails tapped the clipboard, impatiently…

Inside, the fireplace flickered despite no logs burning. On the mantle, a faded photograph hung crooked — a smiling family, their eyes scratched out. Beneath it, a single blood-red rose rested on a pile of old letters, their edges stained and brittle.

A whisper curled from the shadows, cold and desperate.

“Leave… before it’s too late…”

The temperature dropped further, breath misting as the sinister laughter rose to a crescendo.

Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind her.

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“I have a showing at 3 and an Open House at Midnight scheduled for today. I understand your reservations, I do! God only knows how much I hate people too - she laughs - But this is BUSINESS.“ - her shrewdness made the ghosts uneasy.

“We can do this the right way… or my Way. We have to include restrictions in the contract clauses. Everything must be in writing to be enforceable. So how much are you thinking of getting for this place?” - Regina looks around. “The ceilings are damaged so we gotta included that in our market analysis. How old is the roof? Nevermind. I’ll just write “Unknown”. Are you the original owners? What’s the story here? I have to send you the PCD to fill out coz there’s a lot going on here. Are there any other rightful heirs? Coz if we sell and they come out of the woodwork - Let me just say: they are not taking my share. So I need to have it all upfront, all out in the open”

A swarm of deadly wasps comes rushing in and spell the words: “YOU ARE NEXT “ - above Regina’s head.

Unimpressed and annoyed, Regina squints her left eye, trying to size up this entity. Im going to keep looking around.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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*The following advice is intended for mature audiences. The purpose of the column is to entertain. Any similarity to reality is pure coincidence. Please use your own discretion when taking any advice 

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