Short Scary (but not really) Story

Short Story

A week. He said it would take a week to move in and get used to the house. Then he said everything was fine. I didn't believe him then, and I can't believe him now.

No amount of creepy stories, told at just the right time, when light seemed to have run from the night out of fear for what may be hiding, could have prepared me for this. Those stories never scared me. Not the way this did.

At first everything seemed normal. I mean, as normal as it could be when your parents decide to uproot your life and move into the middle of nowhere. Dad said it was because he got a better job. Mom said we needed a change of pace. I said they were crazy. We had finally gotten used to our life back home, then they decided to move. I thought they were crazy. Still do.

The house was big, old, and victorian styled with a huge chimmeny, and more than enough hidden spaces to keep me occupied until school started. So that's what my parents told me to do. They said I should keep myself occupied and engaged in something creative or other. I ignored them and decided to stay in my room until they called me down for food. I'll admit things were going well for a while, but it didn't last.

I was sitting in my room by myself one night, and I heard a sound coming from downstairs. We hadn't had dinner yet, and Dad was cooking tonight. I assumed he had dropped something and would need help, especially if it was glass. I jogged down the stairs into the kitchen. I saw Dad, standing over the kitchen table, which was now flipped over onto its side, our dinner on the floor with it. He was muttering something under his breath, "Where did it go," I think, and scanning the floor searching for Mom ran into the room and looked at the floor, eyes wide. She immediately ran to Dad's side and started whispering something in his ear. He didn't respond and walked silently to him room. Mom followed him in and shut the door with a disturbed look on her face. I got to work cleaning the  food up off of the floor and picking the table back up. We ended up ordering delivery from a random place down the road.

Two weeks passed and it happened again. Only, this time, it was worse. I was walking down the stairs for a midnight snack when I saw a light on in the living room. It was coming from a tiny lamp shade we had on a mini oval shaped coffee table. It was an antique that my grandmother had given us for 'good luck' and such. I walked into the living room and stopped dead in my tracks. My dad was holding a chair, his favorite, over his head, ready to hurl it at the table or the floor under it. He saw me come in and told me to get my baseball bat, because "it" was going to try to run. I looked all around the room. From the top of the ceiling all the way down to the carpeted floor.

"Dad, there's nothing there."

He didn't hear me and threw the chair at the wall, sending splinters of wood and flakes of paint flying everywhere. Mom came in then, and yelled at him to stop, trying to block him from the furniture and valuables. She shouted at me to call the cops and I ran to the nearest phone. As I was running I could hear Dad shouting at Mom, "Its right there, let me at it!" or "It's getting away!". I was terrified. What was wrong with Dad? Why was he acting like this, why-
My thoughts stopped as I realized that the house was now silent. Too silent. I couldn't hear Mom or Dad, only my scattered breathing and thundering heart. Suddenly, I heard a creaking sound coming from below me. I'd had to run to the second floor to find a phone, and was halfway up the stairs when I heard it. There was a loose tile right in front of the first step that always made a sound when you crossed. We were going to fix it that Sunday. Someone was going up the stairs. This revelation gave me enough incentive to run into my room, which was right in front of the stairs. But how close was the person and were they friendly? If I ran would they follow? Did they know where I was? Were they fast enough to catch me? My mind was going a million miles an hour as I thought of what I needed to do. I could have stayed standing there all night if I hadn't heard what sounded like panting, coming from close behind me. I bolted up the stairs, someone's footsteps close behind me. I reached for the door handle, pulled it, and ran into my room, slamming and locking the door behind me. I scrambled for my phone, and with shaking fingers called the cops. I heard a voice outside my door, screaming at me, "Let me in sweety, I'm not going to hurt you! I just want to talk!"

------------------------------------------------------------------

"A couple minutes later the front door banged open and you guys came rushing in."
"Is that all you remember ma'am?"
"Yeah."
"Thank you for your time, we'll leave you to see your mother."

Yeah, my mother, the same mother who was now in the hospital, hanging on for dear life.