Creepypasta

Scratching (~part 5)

/.\ okay guys this is the last part of this story :,v hope u enjoyed this story :3

Four years have gone by since Paul ended his life. I'm now 24 years of age and living in my own apartment, far away from my old neighbourhood. Alex and Tom got their own place and went to university, while I got a simple retail job; barely managing to scrape enough money together to live off. Our lives had been scare-free for the past few years and we were just beginning to get back to normal; but we should have known better.
About six months ago, I was over at Alex and Tom's place having a few drinks and watching a couple of movies. The talk of the intoxicated soon began and before we knew it, we were discussing everything that had happened. None of us liked to even think about the events, never mind talk about it - but I suppose that's what alcohol does to you. We found ourselves dissecting Kershall Street, remembering the people who used to live there and the people who left. Tom's parents were long gone - losing their minds down in Oakshale. Not long after Paul died, his parents left too. Then Michael was forced to leave with his mum and dad, as well as other neighbours up and leaving. The street seemed so empty when we left.
When me and Alex moved out, mum and dad decided to stay put. They liked the street, the area, their jobs and they had never been part of anything that had happened. It didn't take me and Alex too long to figure out that that was the reason we were the only kids allowed out to play in the street. All of the other parents were part of the strange history in some way.
After a few drinks and some intense talking, the three of us fell into a drunken slumber. It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that we were woken by a knock at the door. Me and Alex opened our eyes and attempted to focus our vision. Tom was nowhere to be seen. A feeling of pure sickness hit my stomach that wasn't drink-related - I immediately knew what was happening. Alex wasn't as fast to realise the situation we were in, after all it had been four years. We stood up and made our way towards the front door. Just as Alex turned the handle, his face changed. It was almost as if at that moment, he had the realisation of what could be outside. He slowly pushed open the door, but there was nothing there. Just a small white, spotted bow on the ground.
We slammed the door shut and made our way back to the living room. It took me a moment to realise that I knew where we had to go. The article, my deja vu, the bow; it all added up. The shortcut through the woods to get to Oakshale - the place I refused to enter - was where Solomon would hide the dead bodies of all the children he drowned. If Tom was going to be anywhere, it would be there. I still had the fear and didn't want to be anywhere near Oakshale at this moment in time, but we had to find Tom. After all, I suppose it was just a 'bad feeling'.
We eventually made it to the woods and stopped on the road. Everything seemed so surreal. I took a few deep breaths and stepped on to the grass. At that moment, Alex pulled the bow out from his pocket, as a brisk wind blew it from his hand and on to the floor where it had been once before. I shouted at him, questioned him as to why he brought it? His only answer was that he felt like it was a big part of our whole story. As true as that may be, I didn't want to be reminded of what I saw in my mind. We slowly made our way into the woods and walked for a good ten minutes, but nothing happened. Maybe it was just a dream or deja vu or whatever you want to call it. But then the smell hit us.
We turned a corner, cut through some trees and there it was. My nightmare.
The moonlight shone brightly through the crooked branches of the trees. It bounced off the stream and seeped through every gap in sight. The tall, skinny figure of Solomon Wallace had his hands on Tom and seemed to be leading him to the water. The figures of Paul's parents hanging in the trees, spun slowly, drenched in blood and smiling like kids on christmas. Tom's mum and dad were sat slouched against the bark opposite Tom. They were disfigured - maimed. Cut apart and sewn back together to seem smaller and younger. Everyone was so happy.
The look of fear on Tom's face was indescribable. It surely matched the horror that me and Alex were feeling inside. Solomon stopped and looked at us with his black eyes. He banged and scratched on the tree next to him; but we couldn't understand. He took a few more steps towards the stream and stepped into the water with Tom. The torrent only reached Solomon's waist but it had completely submerged Tom. We didn't know what to do. But then Tom fought back. He kicked and tussled until he relinquished Solomon's grasp. He slowly crawled out of the water as me and Alex helped him out. Solomon let out a deafening scream and marched towards us. The three of us picked up a large rock from the floor and rolled it into his legs. It knocked him over into the stream and sat on his chest as he failed to move it from on top of him. We couldn't stay to see the damage done.
We ran home as fast as we could and called the police. We told them everything. The story of Solomon, the dead bodies in the woods, the suicides; we didn't miss anything out. The police didn't seem to care. It was as if everybody knew but never spoke about it - an entire town built on silence. They sent a team out to the woods and found everything that we'd described. All of the disfigured corpses and even the body in the stream. It was finally all over. Nothing was put in the papers in the next few days and none of us were questioned on what happened that night. I guess everybody was still unsure on the whereabouts of Solomon Wallace and whether he really did die that night.
Two days ago, I got a phone call from the police down in my old hometown. The autopsy had finally been completed and the officers thought that I should know the results. The body belonged to that of a man named Mr Ted Bradley - Michael's dad. I hung up the phone, called Tom and Alex and told them to get over to my place the next day so that we could talk. They arrived as I'd asked and I erupted - rambling in fear, telling them that he was still out there, sobbing like a baby. Then they interrupted me:
"We just found this in the lobby downstairs."
They handed me a small box. We opened it up to find a broken window latch and a small drawing of my apartment. The picture was dated 5th February 2013 and had a small cross next to it. On second glance, Tom noticed it and pointed out the scribbled image of Solomon in the corner of the page. That's when we heard the scratching. The three of us ran into the bathroom and locked the door; that was over sixteen hours ago and it hasn't stopped. It seems as though nobody escapes, not even us. So here we are, terrified in our final moments...
Goodbye.

~/.\ [credit to original authors] hope u liked this story guys :3 btw quick update idks if you guys would like me to rewrite all the stories that I had before since for some that already read them might find them a lil boring /.\ so please let me know if yall would be okay with me rewriting them /.\ that's all :D night night lovelies