I’m going to assume you don’t believe in monsters anymore. That is if you’re no longer a child. Most of us outgrow such a belief, leaving it behind with childhood. I, however, have never outgrown it. Not because I’m childish or immature or anything like that. Because I met one as a child.
I grew up in a quiet rural town in Schoharie County, New York. It was a nice, peaceful place. Houses weren’t too close together. Most of the area was wooded. And it was beautiful in autumn.
A house a block or two down was abandoned. It always caught my interest. Especially since I would always pass it on my way to and from school. Dad told me it was vacant ever since he and Mom moved in. Being an adventurous child, I always wanted the chance to go inside and explore. I eventually got that chance when I was 13.
Now that I was old enough to be left alone for a few hours, my parents did so one afternoon. They were going to parent-teacher conferences. I was ecstatic to finally have my home to myself. They told me how to use the microwave so I could heat my dinner, told me where the spare house key was and left. About 15 minutes later, I remembered the house down the street.
First, I took my dog to do her business outside so she wouldn’t on the carpet while I was gone. Then, I grabbed the house key and snuck out the front door. Wisely, I locked it before adjourning.
It was eerie walking down the street by myself. I’ve never done so before. None of my neighbors were outside. Paranoia made me look over my shoulder, making sure I wasn’t being followed by anything. Soon enough, I reached the house.
I stood on its weed-riddled pathway, examining it. Vines were slithering up the exterior. Shingles and chips of paint had decayed and fallen off. Dirty curtains could be seen through the fogged windows. A chill ran down my spine. I was starting to second-guess myself. Even if there wasn’t anything in there, was it even safe to go in?
I mustered up the courage to cautiously approach the front door. Each nervous step brought me closer to it. When I was finally close enough to reach for the handle, I froze. What are the chances it’s not locked? What if someone sees me go in and snitches? So, I decided to go around and enter through the back.
When I got there, I saw an old dilapidated porch. The screen door was kicked down. “Piece of cake.” I thought to myself as I walked towards it. Once again, I froze. I would be taking huge risks if I went through and entered. I could be attacked by an animal or a homeless person. I could fall through the floor. I could get stuck in something. The ceiling could cave in. My parents didn’t know where I was. So how could they save me in time if I were to be trapped somehow?
At that moment, I knew this was my very last chance to give up. My very last chance to turn back and have fun in the security of my home. But a boost of adventure caused me to step over the door and onto the porch. I still wish I hadn’t.
I stepped into the main house, instinctively holding my hands forward in case of cobwebs. Strangely, there weren’t any. The house was dark and dirty. The wallpaper was yellowed and had begun peeling. It was at this moment that I kicked myself for not thinking of bringing a flashlight. To the left of me was a very dark and creepy hall. To my right was another hall with light shining in from the end of it. That’s obviously the one I chose to explore.
The hall led to a room. The light was the sun shining through a window. Just enough for me to look around. Everything in the room appeared to have been there since it was deserted. As if whoever the previous owners were had left in posthaste. As I traveled halfway into the room, I noticed something that made my temperature drop. Shoe prints. Shoe prints all over the rotten carpet. Fresh shoe prints.
Just then, I heard a guttural roar coming from behind me. Jumping out of my skin, I turned around to see it. What’s “it”, you may ask. It was a monster.
It was over 7 feet tall. It looked like a giant deformed human with green skin, but its head was huge. About the size of an ottoman. The head looked more like a frog’s head than a human’s head. The eyes were the size of basketballs. Each unnervingly human tooth was as large as a sticky note. The mouth was the worst part. The lips were completely shriveled up, creating a permanent smile. Its fingers were very long, each with bulbous tips. It wore a tattered old suit with a bow tie.
It must’ve come from the other hall. It was probably watching me the whole time. I took a step back. My face tightened, becoming hot. My vision blurred as my eyes welled. A tear trickled down my cheek. I was staring directly at something that shouldn’t exist, something that defies science. Worse, it was staring directly at me.
Then, it raised its left hand, pointing at me. It slowly opened its mouth. To my surprise, it spoke to me, surprisingly clearly.
“Why…..are you…….in……… Mr. Toad’s……….house?”
I tried to reply, only able to spit out hiccuping sobs. It was a few seconds before I could say anything coherent.
“I…..I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were here. Please…….I want to leave.”
“No………I mustn’t………let you………leave………..We’ll……be friends…..”
I took a few more brisk steps back. I didn’t want to be friends with this thing. Let alone know of its existence.
“I’ll……..keep you……right……..in my……….tummy…….forever…..” It said as it patted its belly.
Then, like a zombie, it reached out towards me with both its hands. It opened its mouth much wider than before, and ran towards me! Each step sounded like sandbags being dropped on the floor. Its gigantic head bobbed side-to-side.
What was I doing just standing there as this creature was about to devour me? I jumped to my side at the last second. Causing it to tumble onto the floor, quaking it. As it got back up with alarming speed, I turned back and ran. Back through the hall. Back over the porch. Down the side of the house. Down the street. Not daring to look back.
I practically crashed into the front door of my house. The amount of time it took me to get there was both horrifically slow and unbelievably fast. I fumbled for the keys. It took me three attempts to get it into the keyhole. I didn’t know if it was still chasing me, so every second counted.
Once I got it opened, I slammed it shut and locked it. I ran across the house to lock the backdoor as well. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I could see it running along the side of the house through a window. I’ll never know if it was there or not.
My dog was riled up by the commotion, bouncing by my knees. Wanting to protect her as well, I picked her up and carried her to my room upstairs. I locked my bedroom door as well. I chose to hide under my bed, trying to squeeze my dog under there with me. But I couldn’t get her to cooperate.
I laid there shaking. My dog paced back and forth, confused. I then heard the creature’s roar again. It was in my backyard. This startled my dog as well. She tucked her tail in between her legs and joined me under the bed. Nuzzled closely by my side.
Despite everything, I must’ve somehow managed to sleep, as I was shot back to consciousness by a knock. I noticed my dog was standing by the door. After hearing my dad’s voice, I knew it was safe to come out. I let my dad in and immediately squeezed him with a hug. I cried onto his chest. His shirt soaked my tears and snot.
After letting it out of my system, I explained to my dad everything that happened. Only I told him what attacked me was a homeless man. It was the way he’d believe me for sure. Hell, it’s what I wanted to believe it was.
The police were called, and the abandoned house was searched. They found nothing. But they told us that they’d explore the woods and keep a sharp eye for the next week or two. Still, nothing was found. Seeing how distressed I was, my parents decided that it would be unfair to punish me. But they did give me a stern lecture on how why I shouldn’t have done what I did.
From that point forward, we would take alternative routes to go where we needed to be. All so we wouldn’t pass that house. I haven’t felt the same since. I secluded myself at home that Halloween, not wanting to be outside. Especially with anything scary that might trigger me. It took me years to celebrate Halloween after that.
Due to my experience, I moved into an apartment two miles away in a busier town with an old college friend. It was the only way I could feel safe. Even then, I still have the terrible suspicion that I’ll wake up one day to see it standing over my bed.
Sadly, my dad passed away a year ago. The house was demolished around the same time, coincidentally. This means that my mom is alone, with that thing likely still out there. She’s trying to convince me to move back with her. To help her around the house and give her company as we grieve. While I’m trying to convince her to move into my apartment with my roommate.
I dread having to go back home. I don’t even like forested areas anymore. But I know I have to keep my mom safe. How do I know it’s not going to get her? It’s nearby, for sure. As she recently called me in regards to strange noises she heard one night. It’s probably watching her from the woods, waiting for its chance.
My greatest fear right now is losing my mom due to my inability to take action. I’ve been making room for her in the apartment over the last few days. She still believes in my homeless man story. While I’m not certain if she’ll believe it, I know it’s time to tell her the truth.