Alone: A Short Horror Story

A+photo+of+the+old+house

(Elena Filatova/www.elenafilatova.com)

A photo of the old house

Alice Cook, Artist Manager

My feet made loud creaks on the floor as I walked around the house. I felt alone in this old country house. The wallpaper was slowly peeling off the walls. Small and large gaps in the wallpaper left open the wood walls bleeding through. Holes rotted through the floorboards and they all creaked as my feet dragged me along the house. As I walked I heard a small laugh. A laugh as high and innocent of a sweet child’s. The laugh grew louder as I walked further down the halls. “Hello…” I called out, my voice echoed down the hall but the laughter continued. I continued on to an open door. The laughter came from inside. “Hello?” I repeated as my hand made its way to the old wooden door. I softly pushed the door open. The door creaked fully open. Then, I saw the source of the laughter. A small child with a tattered dress and greasy black hair sat in the corner laughing softly, an old small teddy bear was held in its bony pale hands. I made my way to the child, the floor creaking louder than before. The room was empty from what I could see, just like the rest of the house. The only thing left was the rotting house itself. The kid looked up, still laughing, I could see its rotting teeth and sunken eyes as it looked through me. “Hello?” I repeated. I reached my hand out to it and it jumped back. “I’m not going to hurt you,” I started. “I just want to help.”

The child looked up at me again. It stood up, slowly its body shaking. A voice whispered back. “You shouldn’t be here…” It’s voice was dusty and cracked. I tilted my head at the child. “You shouldn’t be here!” it now screamed. My body jumped back away from the child. It dashed towards me its mouth open as it screamed at me. “GET OUT!” it spat at me.