I feel like mixing it up a lot today. Today will be a horror short story. I like to explore my creative writing style from time to time. So without further ado, let’s begin.
I don’t know when it moved in. What item I brought into my home that conjured it. What mistake I made to make it reality. It started with the noises on the stairs. The creaks of every old plank as it walked up. Then the lights would seep through the cracks. The lights would turn off again as quickly as they came on. I thought it would end if I just ignored it. If I just pulled the pillow up over my ear. I’d wake and the nightmare would be gone. But now there’s laughing, a menacing piercing, laughing. The steps on the stairs are getting faster and there’s more of them. More of them.
How is one supposed to live in their home when it has been taken over by something. I despise its existence. Why did I have to be the one befallen to this curse? I’ve been in my house for years now. I don’t want to get up and leave. It will take forever to find something as good as this was. I just need to get rid of it. I just need to get rid of them.
I hear it now. The door creaks open and in they walk. Their loud feet pound with each step. Something thuds on the ground. The laughing, god not the laughing. The light flicks on and it seeps into my eyes. I raise my hand to block it out. Then the stairs begin to creak. Loud thunderous creeks. They are stepping on me. I see each step sag. I must kill these things that have taken my home. I must. The footsteps stop. I see the shoes stop on the step. They speak, “Honey, is there something in our stairs? ” They bend down and look through the crack. Our eyes meet.
Housed and Fed 