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#Post#: 992--------------------------------------------------
Long horror story, BEWARE.
By: Cuddle Date: October 13, 2012, 9:54 pm
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Beware of some cussing, this is just the thing that came to my
mind. I have a very creaky door, and I walked into my room when
I got this idea. xD
[font=courier]The Creak of the Door
You’d be surprised at how certain things trigger these
subconscious responses from deep inside you. Involuntary cues
that bubble to the surface whenever that certain thing strikes
that precise note. For me it was the creak of that damn door.
It’d drive me insane, and no matter what I did, no matter how
hard I tried, it would never be silent… And just like that, it
became a part of my life. Ingrained in my mind, the sound would
haunt me from the day we first moved in. I haven’t slept
completely for three years because of it.
Three years ago, give or take a month or so, Karen and I moved
into our new apartment. The floor plan was simple, a bedroom
that’s connected to a bathroom, a kitchen, living room, and
designated washer room. Simple, yet effective… Moving in was one
of my fondest memories. We ran around the mostly empty space for
the majority of the first few hours. The hype of being free and
independent in “our” own space was exhilarating. It was later
that same night that I first noticed that creaking sound the
door to the bathroom made when moved ever so slightly.
“God that’s a horrible sound,” I remember remarking, “The hinges
probably need to be greased.”
“Dearest, you nitpick the strangest things, you won’t even
notice it in time,” Karen said with a teasing chime.
She always knew how to deal with my quirks.
In time the creaking didn’t subside, nor did my perception of
it. Whenever the door was opened or closed the sound would
pierce through my ears and dilute my thoughts. Though Karen was
wrong about it leaving me, she probably knew that I’d adapt to
it. The sound never became less annoying, don’t get me wrong, I
still hate it, but my patience for it grew out of necessity.
Though even with my increased tolerance the creaking was enough
to stir me from slumber whenever Karen rose to use the toilet.
Maybe I’d never fully adjust after all. I can’t tell you how
many times I’ve sprayed grease into those old hinges on that
seemingly older door. The owners of this complex must’ve cut
some serious corners to have recycled doors, but the price for
rent was cheap enough. You get what you paid for.
Now aside from the creaking of this door everything else was
perfect, that is until I started to notice the door was taunting
me. Sometimes Karen would leave the door open, and the air
conditioning would kick on only to move the door. The door would
sway slowly and the slight movements were enough to sound the
alarm… to make that drawn out creeeeeeak in the dead of night.
That sound would scratch at my brain until I rose from the bed
and closed the door. Sure enough, like some sick joke, the door
would seem to open itself by some force of magic. With one long
creak it would torment me… but how? I closed it. The door must
not be catching. So, more firmly, I’d close it, and that’d be
the end of that.
Every time I had to do this dance with the door, and I’ve done
this frequently, I felt a strong sense of unease well up in my
chest. It was as though I was five years old again and I was
peering into a pitch black hallway. The fear felt reminiscent of
those days, and so I pushed it out of my mind… I’m too old to be
afraid of the dark still. I’d talk to Karen about these
occurrences and my unease with the situation and she’d just
jokingly dismiss it, teasing me.
“Oh hunny, should I start checking the bathroom for monsters and
oogey boogey?” She’d say with a smile, which faded when she’d
see my expression wouldn’t change.
She meant well enough, and usually her humor would be returned
with a quip of my own, but this… this was different. I could not
shake this feeling. So it was then that we got into the habit of
securing that door at night, though that never actually worked.
Every night was the same. I’d never fully sleep because of the
creak. During the day it posed no threat, outside of annoying
me.
Life moved on and so did we. It became easier with time, but
from time to time there would be instances where I would hear
the creak once more and neither Karen nor I were up to open the
door. When I would groggily glance up to see if the door somehow
forced itself ajar I’d see a closed door. Maybe I’m just
imagining things, or maybe not.
One time, on a restless night, I heard the creak, and without
sleep to blind me I jolted up to see what I can only describe as
a slate white face… but it had no discernible features. I reeled
back hard enough to smack against the headboard of my bed, which
caused me to choke on the gasp of air I had drawn in. The
choking noise, or maybe the back of the headboard crashing
against the wall, or maybe it was just the sudden movement of
all of this happening at once woke Karen up with a start. When
she turned to me she saw my face pale and my eyes unsteadily
staring at the door… which was closed.
I could tell that Karen was concerned, because she started to
treat me with tender care. It was a little insulting. I wasn’t
fragile. I know I saw something… or did I just dream it all up?
I hadn’t slept well since we moved in.
No other incidents occurred after that. The door still creaked.
Sometimes it’d pry open because it was on a crack. Nothing like
that night though…
By the third year Karen went to a conference for something or
another in England, and I was alone in the apartment for a
month. All went by smoothly, perhaps because I expected the
worst. With work and games to keep me busy the first three days
sailed by like a gem. I hardly noticed the creaks, though they
did wake me. Then there it was, without fail, a long, drawn out,
high-pitched creak.
I had been playing games all night. It probably was a bad idea
to delve into the horror genre when I’m all alone and paranoid,
but it was the newest “Quiet Rise” game, and it was scary as
hell. Just as I laid my head to rest it sounded. Like the
devil’s very own grinding teeth it tormented me with its wicked
shriek. CREEEEEEEAK. It let out a second shrill note as though
daring me to glance up. Click. The door closed.
“Wha-What the fuck was that…?” I managed to utter softly.
“A-Am I just dreaming things up again…?” I remember thinking, or
rather praying. My chest ached as I drew rapid breaths from
under my blanket. I could feel every single strand of hair on my
neck and arms prick up at once. I felt an overwhelming, yet
cold, pressure bear down my throat and crush my chest. I wanted
to believe it was nothing more than my overactive imagination
jumping into extremes in the dead of night, because I stayed up
a little too long. So I didn’t dare move. I was safe in my
blanket, this I’d like to believe. Eventually sleep caught me,
though it was fitful, and before I knew it the light of the
morning breached my eyes. I lived to see another day. No more
horror games though.
I didn’t tell Karen about what happened, I didn’t want her to
worry. I just ignored it. The next night nothing happened. So my
mind must’ve played a foul trick on me… right?
The night after, I managed to get to sleep quickly. I was
exhausted after work and the day went well. Sleep was going to
be rewarding, I could feel it taking me already. A few hours
into that unfulfilling rest I felt something tug at the back of
my mind. It felt sharp, like a little clawed hand was pinching
the softest part of my subconscious and pulling firmly. It was
uncomfortable. The feeling was enough to break my already frail
slumber and make me painfully aware of my environment all at
once. Creeeeeeeeak. Reluctantly I opened my eyes and dazedly
lifted my gaze to the door. The door was wide open. Wide fucking
open… but nothing was there. At first my sleep deprived mind
made me call out, “Karen?” but the inquisition was fruitless. It
dawned on me she had been gone for nearly a week. I felt like I
wanted to cry out, curse whatever cruel person installed this
demonic door. Instead I just rolled over. I didn’t have the
energy to fight it.
The next day I studied the door thoroughly. Nothing made sense.
There should be no reason for it to open every night. I looked
around the bathroom area and tried to find some source that
could be causing this. Maybe someone was playing a prank on me.
Maybe Karen had been up to something the whole time. I couldn’t
find a thing.
The days went on after that and days turned into weeks. Three
weeks in and still I couldn’t sleep peacefully. My mind grew
frenzied. I was reaching the tipping point. What was going on?
In time this question, and lack of an answer, consumed me. It
got to the point where the fear was overridden by madness. I
hated that door. I hated that creaking. I needed to end it. I
went out and bought two cameras that day, if I couldn’t see
anything, maybe they could. I set up one camera just above the
headboard so that it would face the door. The other was on a
desk parallel to the bed against the wall. I placed a camera
there to watch me.
That night I slept. It was a miracle. I didn’t wake, but I
didn’t feel rested. I felt empty, but at least I didn’t hear the
creaking. Ironic that this would happen when I set out for the
truth. It would have almost driven me insane if it wasn’t so
funny. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on this though, I had to
view the tapes. First I removed the memory card from the camera
affixed to my headboard and uploaded the video onto my computer.
The first few hours were tame, and I felt my skin flush. Had I
been acting nuts this whole time for nothing? Was the lack of
sleep the cause all along? Maybe all I needed was a good night’s
rest. I fast forwarded the video. Nothing for the next couple of
hours… then there was movement. I hit pause, backed up, and
played it a few minutes before the movement began.
My skin felt like an army of ants with needles for feet marched
across my entire body. The door opened with that earsplitting
creak. At first I wondered why I hadn’t woken up. Every other
time the sound of the door was enough to take me from sleep.
These thoughts were washed from me instantly as I saw it. The
door had not opened on its own.
A black… entity, formless and slightly translucent held onto the
doorknob with what I can only imagine to be a hand. It was… a
shadow. No. That’s not right… but that’s the only word to
describe it. It was like a shapeless silhouette, humanlike in
make, but with no definition whatsoever. Its “body” melded into
one long mass as it reached from the floor to the ceiling. It
had no legs or feet. As it moved it glided slowly across the
floor. The top of it extended and narrowed slightly, forming a
round top, which leaned forward and away from the rest of it.
Periodically something would bubble at the end of what I would
call its “head”. It looked like melting flesh when it happened,
just black and almost see through. This melting motion seemed to
create a face in great torment.
If I focused on it hard enough the face would seemingly stared
pleadingly in despair straight past the camera and into my eyes
as it continued to melt. At that moment my ears began to ring. I
thought my ears would burst. I tried not to look at those faces
after that.
It moved toward my bed… Why didn’t I wake? The shadowed thing
finally took a spot by my bed. It hovered over me as its “arms”
sank into its body. There it stood idle. I felt my stomach churn
violently. I retched, nearly falling over as I fought back the
heaves and continued watching the video. The only movement was
from the continual emerging and melting of that tormented face.
Its eyes never left me through this cycle though, and that
unsettled me most of all.
More appeared through the opened doorway now. One after the
other and with each one that passed through the door cried out
with another howling creak. I never budged. I never moved. I was
completely oblivious. They all had continually melting faces
which all bore a different face of agony, pain, anguish… all of
them were different, and yet they all inspired the same feeling
of dread deep inside of me. Each one would take a place standing
next to the one before it until they circled my bed completely.
They stared… never moving for two whole hours.
Just as I thought I could stomach no more I saw something
emerging from the back. The translucent blackness that made up
these things covered the figure that was appearing like a veil,
but I could still see it moving. It moved through the doorway at
a snail’s pace. I could clearly see long… limbs? It was slate
white, devoid of color. The arms that emerged from the darkness
of the doorway were wiry and very… very long. The muscles pulled
at the visible bone from under the skin as it moved. It began to
pull itself through the doorway more and more.
Then its face made its way through the dark. My eyes blistered
as tears immediately swelled past the surface and began to fall
freely. My breath was ragged and spiteful as each attempt to
breathe set my throat aflame. That face… it was the same face I
saw so long ago. That featureless face moved closer and closer.
Everything about it was elongated. It moved like a sloth, slowly
reaching out with a hand and digging its gnarled claws into a
grip to pull itself along. When it made it to the shadowed
things they let out the most gut wrenching wails. With an
indolent swipe it dragged one of its long arms through each and
every one of the black entities. Their wails grew so loud that
my ears burned. I felt sorry for them for some reason.
As they all screamed at their demise they faded into wisps in
the dark, disappearing from sight. The white one continued to
claw and creep over me. Its claws dug into my headboard and its
legs lifted it over me from the end of my bed. I could hear its
bones crackling with every move it made… That’s how close it
came to me and the camera. Its neck extended further, growing as
its vacant face met mine only inches away. The face began to
crack and tear, opening up to reveal a “mouth” as blood seeped
from the newly torn rip. A guttural growl gurgled through the
blood that pooled in its “mouth”. It lifted its head to the
camera and cocked it to the side before letting out a terrifying
screech.
The camera was overwhelmed with static and the image began to
corrupt and break as the screech drew out. It lasted maybe ten
seconds before the video cut to black. Minutes passed and it
remained black. Then the video flashed back to show a mostly
empty room, save for me sleeping soundly.
For the longest time I sat there. Was I going crazy? Was this
just a dream? Was it a hallucination from sleep deprivation?
Maybe, but when I started the next video it was the same thing.
I didn’t watch the second video… I couldn’t. I sat there for a
while before I actually focused enough on my hands. There was
blood, and not just on my hands, it was all over me. I got up
and dashed for the bathroom slamming the door behind me. The
mirror showed blood steadily streaming from my eyes, ears, nose
and mouth… I glanced down at my shirt through the mirror, which
was drenched in blood. I lifted it. A “bite mark” bled freely
from my side. It bit me and I never stirred. I didn’t even feel
it until now. My body was shaking uncontrollably. What the
hell…. What the hell… What the hell...
Creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeak. I could have sworn I closed the door
behind me…[/font]
#Post#: 993--------------------------------------------------
Re: Long horror story, BEWARE.
By: Noctis Date: October 14, 2012, 3:13 am
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[center]That's a really awesome story!
I like how it's written in first person POV. It also has an
interesting plot and monsters :D
Nice job, I really enjoyed it[/center]
#Post#: 1000--------------------------------------------------
Re: Long horror story, BEWARE.
By: Cuddle Date: October 14, 2012, 10:29 pm
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Aww, thanks. :3
#Post#: 1170--------------------------------------------------
Re: Long horror story, BEWARE.
By: KONGOZERO Date: November 22, 2012, 9:40 pm
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make more horror stories that was awesome! srry i was late i was
on this its a very long story but i believe that you made me
astounded. I'm a young novelist still in class but this is the
best i'v seen. ;)[font=times new roman][/font]
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