One of my friends in real life wanted me to write a horror story. I felt like posting it here to see what people thought.
I get left at home by myself quite a bit, especially in the winter. My brothers in college, and my parents frequently vacation to warmer climates. I can't blame them though, it's freezing here. I'm in my later teens and not that wild of a person so they trust me to stay home alone. I actually like the time to myself, I always have a few projects I'm working on.
This was the third night of my parents going away. The extent of my human interaction those three days had been over the internet. I had gotten a bit stir crazy over that time. I'd taken to talking to myself so I could hear a human voice. I was just getting the chores done. I'd been procrastinating, and my parents return tomorrow.
I was on my last task, the laundry. The washing machine was in our basement. That's why I saved the task for last. My basement had always seemed creepy to me. It was unfinished, and made me think of someplace a serial killer would hide bodies. The worst part is that the light switch was at the bottom of the steps. I had to walk down the stairs in complete darkness.
I rushed down the steps, and searched for the light switch with my hand for a few seconds. I found it and hit it as hard as I could. My few seconds of fear were replaced with a bit of shame. I'd always had been a bit of a coward, seeing things in the darkness that weren't there.
I got the washer prepared. I ignored sorting the clothes, and threw them in. I left on the light and started to head up the stairs. I didn't want to have to walk down in the dark again. I headed to my T.V. to rot my mind a little.
I waited for about an hour until checking on the laundry. I opened the door to the basement, and instantly closed it. All the lights were off down there. I frequently watched horror movies and promised myself long ago that the second creepy things started happening I would avoid them. Lights magically shutting off were included among the things I consider creepy. I figured I could just plead forgetful when my parents got home.
The house phone rang. I checked the caller ID, it said it was my mother. I picked up the phone to talk to her.
"Hey, Mom."
"Hey, I need some info about our flight tomorrow. Could you check when our flight leaves, I left the information there."
"Sure where is it."
"It should be in a filing cabinets in the-"
"Basement?"
"Yeah."
I had to decide between irrational fears, and my parents coming home. If you knew how close I was to deciding on irrational fears, you'd think me a terrible son.
"Ok, I'll get it for you."
I followed that by some meaningless conversation, trying to keep her on the phone. I wanted someone to talk to while I did this. I walked down the stairs slowly, trying to keep myself ready to run back up the stairs. I reached the bottom of the steps, and started searching for the light switch again.
I found the light switch, and hit it hoping it would turn on. It did, and my heart stopped. There was a man, well not a man. It seemed like something waiting to be molded into a man, missing all the details. It was standing in the corner facing it. The phone let out a long high pitch ring, and then died.
The creature turned around, it had no face or expressions. Then the lights went out again.
I ran up the stairs. I felt like I'd be safe as long as I made it there, and then the door slammed shut like the gates of hell. I was paralyzed by fear. Then a voice came from behind me, high pitched and distorted.
"I'm sorry."
My legs came out from under me, and dragged me back down the stairs into the basement. I was dragged to the center of the room. Then the hand let go. I waited there to die, but nothing happened. I ran to the wall trying to have one side of me covered. The second I reached the wall I was pulled back to the center. I felt so alone in the middle of the room, knowing I was powerless.
I started to hear murmurings around me. Getting louder and louder. I recognized them, they were voices of people I knew. They would scream an insult, then I'd be hit. The voices got louder, and the hits harder. Eventually I heard the distorted voice again.
"I'm so sorry."
There was one more hit, and then I blacked out. When I woke up, I was in the middle of the room surrounded by my parents on a stretcher. They said someone had broken into the house, and assaulted me.
At the hospital they told me I had a few broken bones, but they should heal. When I asked my mother how she got home without the information, she said she had no idea what I was talking about. I thought about telling them what happened, but I knew they wouldn't believe it. I didn't believe it myself.
