I need people to hear this, you make think I am crazy, or making this up. Honestly, I wish I was, then the world would still make sense to me, and many people would still be alive. I wish it wasn’t real, but after what I’ve witnessed… anyway, let’s go to the start.
I bought this house for dirt cheap, oblivious to why its price was so dismal. Most houses this cheap have lots of flaws, either hidden or obvious, the house could be infested with mould, the roof could be unstable, the list goes on, but it seemed that there was nothing wrong with it. The house was around a medium size, and looked like an older, but very well taken care of house. The previous owner has an old lady who has recently gone to a nursing home, leaving her nephew to sell the house, as she had no children of her own. Obviously, with the price and the quality of the home, I bought it. That may have been one of the worst mistakes I have ever made.
Things were normal for a long while. I finished moving in and began exploring my new neighbourhood, checking out the nearby stores and meeting the new neighbours. The house was very comfortable, even though it smelt like old lady perfume, and it was obvious that a cat had lived here, due to the seemingly endless amount of cat hair in the carpet. Even though I was very happy and comfortable in my new home, every now and then, seemingly randomly and out of nowhere, I felt as if something was off. It was very rare, and I always shook it off, ignoring it and telling myself that nothing was wrong, but it still happened. It wasn’t a simple feeling either, I didn’t feel as if I was being watched and yet every now and then, it would be like a tiny bit in the back of my brain was screaming at me that something was very, very wrong. If only I had listened…
It was later when I started to hear the rumours. Urban legends about the house. Each one was slightly different, but they all shared the same base idea. The main story, in its simplest form was that the old lady had a son, who had somehow died in the house, some say he was murdered by the old lady, some said someone had snuck in, stuff like that, and that there was some remnant of him still in the house, a ghost, or something as morbid as his body being in the walls. I didn’t believe the rumours, yet I swear it made the little voice in the back of my head yell a little bit louder.
Things started to get strange. My sleep was getting interrupted more and more, and whenever I would get sleep, my dreams were haunted with strange events, and I would wake up in a cold sweat. On the 5th night of this interrupted sleep, I woke up, like usual, but this time was different, I felt that something was awfully wrong. I tried to shake the feeling, but that is when I heard the clicking. The noise was almost like someone cracking their fingers, one at a time. I got out of bed, partially out of curiosity and partially out of fear and I ran to turn on the lights. There was a period of silence, but then it started again. I followed the noise to the living room, and I turned on the lights. Nothing was there… and yet I felt even worse, and that’s when I noticed the door.
The door was under the stairs, and slightly cracked open to unveil the darkness on the other side, but the most odd thing about this door, was that it looked as if it was hidden. The door had no handle, no sign of it being there. The door basically touched the floor, and you would have no idea that it was there if you were not looking for it.
I entered the door and turned on the light. On the other side were a set of stairs, leading downward. Every step I took down those stairs, the louder the voice yelled, telling me to turn back now, yet I continued. At the bottom of the stairs was a large metal door with a big latch, like the person who had previously lived here did not want anyone taking whatever was behind it, luckily, the padlock still had the key inside of it and I unlatched the door and entered a large room, mostly empty, except for an old, tattered looking cloth mannequin in the corner, but that wasn’t the only odd thing in the room, as there was also a large, stained bowl, that looked like it was for feeding a pet, a very, very large pet.
It was when I turned to leave the room that I saw them. Massive scratch marks on the thick metal of the door and the stone walls surrounding it, so deep that only something of incredible strength could have left them. My breath caught in my throat, maybe the rumours had been onto something. That house is definitely not normal.
I ran out of the room and went back into the living room, still shook by the marks. My head was spinning, wondering what could have left them. I only wish that I had latched the massive metal door, but at the time I didn’t know that whatever was kept in there, prevented by the latches and locks from getting out, was still in the room, and I had just left it’s cage wide open…
PART 2 COMING SOON(ish)