Agoraphobic - Creepypasta

Trapped - Ch. 1

Mary Josephine (Jo) POV

This is the first funeral I have ever attended and I'm a bit underwhelmed. It's not as spooky as they make it out to be in movies and books. It's as sunny as it can be outside but a few clouds linger.

How very ironic.

I shift from foot to foot at one if the windows of my house as the minister says a few words to the four guests below. One is a mother and her two children and if I remember correctly the other is the manager of the grocery store. They both owe my grandma in some way or another I suppose. Grandma never made any friends and considered friendship a ' waste of much needed time'.

The simple coffin is low in the grave and the guests are throwing sand on top of it. I can't because I am indoors. My phobia prevents me from even thinking about leaving this building.

I step away and sit down on the couch to sulk. I should be weeping or wishing grandma was still here but I can't force myself to. I'm wallowing in self pity instead and trying to tell myself that not being sad isn't a sin. I can't stop feeling guilty though. Grandma and I were never close and half of the time we were either bickering with each other or giving each other the silent treatment.

I hated her.

I pout some more and think about how unlucky I am. Just a week ago I was thinking about how nice it is that I get to live in a cozy home with great food and the comfort of getting to stay at home all day long.

Lucky my A$$!

I stomp my foot like a toddler and groan. I'll be lonely and stuck here forever! Who am I kidding? Forever! I'll rot! Grandma left me money for maybe a year but not enough to last forever.

I'll just have to learn how to face my problems and leave the house!

I shudder at the thought and nervously glance at the window.

No. I can't.... It would be easier to rot.

I walk downstairs and go into the kitchen to get out the bucket of ricotta we use to make lasagna. I love ricotta much more than I loved grandma. I pull out a chair to the kitchen table and stare at the papers that cover the surface. A manilla packet has my grandmother's will tucked inside. The probate lawyer wrote me an email giving me first off his 'condolences' and then telling me about how grandma had some odd requests on her will. He sent me this packet asking me to look over it and help decide some things that were unclarified.

" You can do this later, of course, but you'll need someone to plan the funeral first. She wanted her corpse buried by the house." He had written.

Odd. She probably believed in ghosts and wanted to haunt her house. Pft! Yeah. To nag me about the laundry and the dishes!

My stomach twists as I pull out the will. As I look over it I almost faint. She had donated a majority of the money to a bug spray company!

Cruel...undeserving!

I leap from my chair like a mad woman and run to the door. I'm not even thinking now. I rush past the store manager, the mother with her children and over to the grave site. I stand there trembling in realization and the terror bubbles up in me. A animalistic shriek gurgles out of my throat and I double over puking. I choke and splutter and the minister turns away it distaste. I fall to the floor and faint.

+

A few hours ago I woke up in my living room with a note stuck to the blanket.

Dear Miss Caufield

         I am sorry for your loss and hope that you forgive me that I took the privilege to move you back indoors. I called Doctor Ivan and he said you should be fine. You had a mild erratic panic attack and passed out in your lawn. Don't worry, I had someone clean up the mess. Don't feel the need to pay me and I am well aware of your situation. May God be with you!

        Sincerely,

Winston Leman

I groan as I think about the note. He said he was well aware of my situation. Does that mean everyone knows? It disgusts me.

The fire has now burned down and it's almost midnight so I walk upstairs and snuggle into bed. I'm not scared of the dark, never have been. Just of small places, crowded places, open spaces, outdoors, and public humiliation. I'm still not ready to leave the house. I've been Agoraphobic for almost four years now. I doubt I'll ever not be ever again.

I've had my eyes shut for almost three minutes now, trying to count the seconds to lull myself to sleep, when I hear voices chanting. Getting closer and closer and closer. I snap my eyes open and am surprised to see firelight glowing outside. Peeking out the window, I frown.

What the hêll?

There are figures in dark cloaks chanting with candles in their hands. Four of them are abnormally tall and stick out like sore thumbs. They are standing right next to the freshly covered grave. Who do they think they are? What do I do to make them stop? I could call the lazy useless policeman but that's just ridiculous. He's probably even asleep right now!

I'll just have to let them be crazy. Creepy townspeople!

I watch interested at what they do. The tallest of them says something to the crowd and then the members lurch forward to the grave. They pile just under the window making weird noises.

This is seriously starting to get freaky!

I back away from the window slowly and think. What can I do? What are they doing? I slowly creep back and peek ever so slightly to see them break the coffin and grab out the corpse. Tears well up in my eyes and images flood my head.

Scary! No!

I can't stop watching as they chant and begin to decapitate the body parts. I gag and run to the trash can to throw up.

This isn't real! It can't be! Just a nightmare.

But I'm not that stupid. This is as real as the sun and the moon. As you and I!

The chanting stops abruptly and then there is silence. I calm down and stand confused. I've been stumbling around my room gagging but now I draw nearer to the window just in time to see a jar of what I suspect to be alcohol or gasoline with a lit rag, flying through the air towards the house. It hits the roof and I can hear it roar. It burns quickly and then I see more jars sail through the air. Many of them downstairs others on the roof.

I run around the room shrieking and try to go downstairs only to be met by hot flames crawling up the steps. When I go back to my room it's now in flames!

Trapped!

I cough and thrash. Flames cover my room and I wail. My jacket starts to burn and I drop and roll.

I'd rather fall to my death than burn to death!

The idea sparks and I don't really consider anything, just act in impulse. I throw myself out the window. Shards of glass embed themselves in my skin and I feel like it's taking me longer than needed to hit the ground.

Be over please!

And then I hit the grass. Pain racks my body as I lay there paralyzed. I see blurry figures moving around and something really white moves above me. I can't tell what it is but it looks like a dude. I see squid tentacles or something, floating in the air.

Weird..

They reach out to me and touch my forehead gently. My senses shut down one by one and I'm numbed of pain.

So this is death?

I close my eyes and let it consume me.