Hello, my name is Marcus, I’m a short horror story author. I was greatly inspired by Edgar Allan Poe, more specifically, The Tell-Tale Heart. I don’t know why, but when I first read the story I was filled with ever growing dread. Despite that feeling, there was also an unbearable excitement that came with it. I wanted something like that. I was so tired of all the gore and cheap bottom of the barrel jump scares that even a two year old could program. I wanted to instill dread, I wanted to instill true horror.
So I set out on my journey, I failed at being a horror Author at first. I wanted to get my story posted to a popular website Creepypasta, however none of my stories ever got posted. I didn’t know what I was doing wrong at the time, but with foresight I realized my stories weren’t scary, they were mystical. So I tried writing a fantasy novel, but the same as before, it all went downhill. I got fifteen chapters in before I was hit with a severe writer’s block. I fell into a depression that I couldn’t describe.
I dedicated my life to being an author, and this is what life handed me. I couldn’t even write a single novel. Maybe I wasn’t as dedicated as I thought. At this point I had moved back in with my father and brothers as I lost my job and my roommate got us kicked out of our apartment. I talked to my father about my writing issues, but he didn’t seem too interested, he was proud of me for having a dream though. Nonetheless, there was always ridicule that I spent more time working on my stories then trying to find a job.
Things all turned around though, I got a great new job, and my best friend returned to my life. And my now fiancé agreed to marry me. Hell, I even found a new place to live, a beautiful house that I saw myself spending the rest of my life in. One problem though, is before moving in I had never lived alone before. There was always someone. It horrified me, the idea of being all alone at all times. It was truly the last thing I wanted. So I confided in my best friend Preston and he gave me some amazing advice, and an offer. He told me that his cat was pregnant and would be giving birth any day now. He told me that if I wanted, I could have one of the kittens.
He told me this long story of growing up with anxieties and depression, due to the religious trauma that his parents gave him. I thought it was just gonna be a pity me story that he quite frequently loved to tell, but he then told me of his service animal. An animal that is certified to support you. I had always thought service animals were for people with physical disabilities, such as being blind, but he told me, they could be certified for mental health issues as well.
Learning this, I thought it was a great idea. It wasn’t a person but at least I’d have company. A few months later, I was fully moved into my new home, and now I had a trusty companion. A little kitten I named after a character from one my favorite videogames of all time, Devil may Cry, my new companion, Vergil. Things were great at first. I felt safe and happy, work was going great, and I finally got over my writer’s block. I had almost completed my novel, until strange things began to occur.
My kitten was extremely needy. If I left the house for even a second, you could hear him loudly meowing through the door, wanting attention. I always felt compelled to go back and give him a treat, tell him I’d be right back, and then when I left, everything was okay. However, the first day, when I came back, I found that my stove was on. I always had issues with my memory, but I thought for sure that I didn’t even touch the oven that day. I let it slide and just blamed my terrible memory on it, but that night, I was hearing a loud scratching noise from my living room.
I thought to myself, it must just be my cat playing with his scratching post, and I sank softly to sleep. However throughout the week, no matter where it was, all I could hear was the noises, drilling into my ears. On the third day, my boss confronted me about how weird I had been acting. So I told her. She was so nice and understanding about the stress I was under. I just got my first pet, and moved into my first house by myself and it was a kitten to stack it all on. She didn’t lay me off, but asked that I take a week to myself to figure out what was going on with me.
When I returned home, I was pissed, the kitten had torn my house up, I don’t even understand how, my couch was ripped open, my toilet paper was shredded, small scratch marks where the pain on my wall had once been, it was a travesty. I looked up some answers online, and I’m so glad I did instead of just giving him a few light smacks. I learned that you should never physically discipline your cats, and that there may be a medical issue that I need to look into, but I just didn’t have the money at the time, so I took the best suggestion, which was spraying him with some water.
Yeah, he really hated that, but he stopped tearing things apart, I hope. Yet, every night, there would be that loud scratching from the living room. It was simply unbearable, so I decided to get up, and shut my door so I wouldn’t hear it anymore. I didn’t want this cat keeping me up every night. However, when I turned around, absolute horror and dread filled my entire being. There, laying right on the edge of the bed, was Vergil, sleeping calmly, and peacefully.
I had never feared for my life in such a way. What the hell was in the living room then? Without giving it a second thought I locked my door and tried to call the police to report it, but I should have just let it go. Because the fear, upon finding out I had no service, was so much worse then if I had just kept myself locked in all night.
I hadn’t left my room in days, Vergil is getting sad, and I feel like I’m starving. Any attempt to communicate to my friends and family have failed. Every night, the scratching was just getting louder and closer. I couldn’t last much longer. I needed to get out. I needed to escape. So I took Vergil in my arms, and snuck out of my own house through the window running as fast as I could until I had found myself at Preston’s house. I must’ve looked terrible, because the moment he saw me, he took me in, made me some food and had me shower.
I’ve been staying at his place the last few nights and things are perfect, Vergil is happy, I feel safe, and Preston finally found someone to play COD with, I just don’t know what I’m going to do about the house.