It loomed over us.
Its shadow draping the world behind us.
Its evil aura screaming out to us. Beckoning us to come inside and reveal its secrets.
The door just swayed in the wind, its rusty hinges creaking and shuddering against the weight of the heavy metal door.
The caravan was a miniature one for its size - it only consisted of two rooms. There was a kitchen, with numerous cabinets and pantries. There was even a small fridge installed, but of course, it was obsolescent and worn out. In the other room, there was an old bed frame against the right side of the room. On the left side, were more cabinets and pantries. The two rooms are separated by a wooden sliding door.
“So?”, my brother, which I’ll refer to as Moe, said. “Let’s see what we can find inside”.
I then strode towards the swaying door and held it open in place. “I oblige. Ladies first”. I snickered.
Scowling, Moe stepped inside the caravan and I followed after him.
The air was old and musty with an aroma of rotten apples. My eyes landed on the dusty old sliding door that separated us from the bedroom/storage room, then to the top cabinet in the kitchen.
Wanting to see what is in the cabinet, I strode for it.
It opened with a yelp of complaint and I fished out 2 boxes. Brushing the dust with my hand, I made out the faded letters:
CHESS BOARD
And the second box:
CONNECT 4
“We hit the jackpot!” I exclaimed, almost leaping for joy as I held the two dust boxes in my hands. We brought them outside to play and I’m not going to lie, I had the best matches with my brother ever (aside from the cheating in between them).
After 12 matches we decided to stop with connect 4 and play chess. As my excited (and dirty) hand broke open and plunged into the cardboard box, I felt around for the board. My hand brushed against something furry.
All the excitement rushed from my hand in a sudden whoosh as I jerked my hand out from the box. Raising his brow in confusion, Moe met my eyes.
“What happened?”
“I-I think there’s a rat in there”.
He gave me a straight and questioning look.
“Really? Let me see”
I handed him the box and he snatched it out of my hand
“You better not be pulling my–”
His eyes widened with a look of pure, ripe terror. A face full of shock. The look that any dad would get if they were fired from their job.
He instinctively stood up and tipped whatever that was in the box on the grass.
A ball of fur rolled out of the old box and at his feet. He stepped away slowly, his eyes widening in disbelief.
I was too, flabbergasted.
The rat, mangled, was the nightmare for any other rat that would have seen it. Its skin was lacerated and bloodied, probably for a long time. But worse of all the eyes. Oh God the eyes. They were large, bulging and not at all like an average rat’s. No, there’s no mistake. They were human eyes. Stitched into the sockets.
I covered my mouth and tried not to puke. Surprisingly, Moe did not.
“This is– This is AWESOME!”.
I gawked at him.
“W– What the hell do you mean!”
“Tonight, we explore this caravan some more. Maybe we can find out who did this!”
I regained my sanity (I’m exaggerating).
“Are you insane? We legit found a rat with actual human eyes sewed into its sockets. Why would you want to find the maniac who did this!?”
Moe sighed.
“Alright then. As usual you are being a big baby. I’ll do it myself”.
Don’t get me wrong. I love my brother, but sometimes he gets on my nerves. I wanted to punch him.
Moe smiled.
“Aren’t you the nerd on ghosts, SCPs, creepypastas and blah blah blah? What’s stopping you from seeing an actual supernatural creature?”
This time, I sighed.
“Fine. But before we do this, we have to find out what exactly we’re dealing with.
Moe raised his eyebrows.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning we have to learn the backstory of the inhabitants who used to live in the caravan”.
“How?”
I turned my head toward the house. Dad spoke to the guy who sold the caravan to him. Maybe he knows what happened to the people who lived there.
“We have to ask dad”, I said.
* * *
When dad saw us coming into the house, he stood up from the dining table. His chair made a screeching sound when pushed back. He eyed us with curiosity. We hardly ever asked him something. Usually he would sit behind his computer doing reports and whatnot.
“Why do you want to know?”
I pulled a chair from the dining table to sit down.
“We’re just interested,” I answered.
“Hmmmm”, he rubbed at his scraggly beard.
“Fine”.
“Good old Doc and Samantha Jennings were a cute couple.
They are nice to each and every person that would have come across to pay them a visit
Why would someone want to visit them and their small caravan you may ask?
Well…Samantha liked to sew.
Everyone used to line up in front of the old rickety door of the caravan that was the home of the couple, waiting to buy sewn clothing from the well-loved Samantha and her receptionist of a husband.
Children bought stuffed toys, blankets and other cotton goods. Adults bought clothing for their beloved children and family. The products flew from the cupboards (that were considered shelves) like seeds being pecked at rapidly by a starving chicken.”
Dad paused, took a breath, and gave us an eerie smile.
“But where did she get all that wool? They had a farm full of sheep. And I’m talking hundreds! Every spring, she shears em’. And lemme’ tell you guys something, she loved the money that was coming out from selling just clothing.
She wouldn’t let her husband have some of the profit. She says only she is doing all the work. And she was right”.
Moe and I stared blankly at Dad. Extremely intrigued and hooked into the story.
“Then summer came. The heat hit them like a ball from a cannon launcher.
And just like that the sheep died out. One by one.
The couple were devastated from the sudden loss. Who can blame em’? Their only source of income were those poor animals.
Over the weeks, they started to get hungry. The husband couldn’t find a job and all.
Skip to a few weeks. They were now dreadfully starving and on the verge of death.”
Dad leaned back into his desk chair and stared at us for a few seconds. He usually does this so the information would sink in.
At last, Moe spoke: “D–did she eat him?”.
“Huh? No. Let me finish”, Dad said.
“Fallen in a deep and thick cloud of depression, Samantha began to go insane. Every day she would twirl her hands as if she were sewing. On some occasions, she would use knives instead of her own fingers. Doc could only watch as she commenced the ritual day by day… Until one day, he fled.”
Dad made a whooshing motion.
“He just ran…he never looked back. Nope.
To this day no one knows why. He was sort of a calm and collective guy. Know what else? No one could find where he went. It’s like he vanished or something. Not like anyone was searching for him at the time. The visitors ceased to visit the caravan to notice anything suspicious anyway.
Then, as if on cue, one neighbour heard a muffled but loud wailing coming from the other farm. 3 guesses whose house it belonged to.”
Dad gave that eerie smile again
“The Jennings’ caravan. Concerned, the neighbour called the police to investigate.
The screams and howls of pain never ceased until the cops pulled up in front of the door.
They broke it down and shone their torches on the interior of the house.
Mice. everywhere. And not just any mice, there were abnormally large eyes sewed into the sockets. The floor was matted with blood. Know what else? Faeces that obviously belonged to the crazed and insane woman.
They found her lying in her bed that same night. Already passed rigour mortis in just 3 short hours. Investigators also found that she had unbelievably small eyes.
Like the eyes of a ra—”
“Ok that’s enough, Dad”, I said. Now utterly disgusted.
Moe didn’t want to hear any more either. He was as green as an unripe tomato.
Dad laughed evilly but heartedly.
I began to mull about the idea of whether or not this story was true.
Could it be that Dad is telling the truth or is he pulling our leg and just faking for his own amusement?
“That doesn’t explain why you saw a rat with human eyes in a chess box which backs up the story significantly.” The other part of my mind averred.
Only one way to find out.
What every kid in a scary movie says before getting killed by a killer clown, my darker part of my mind said grumpily again.
I shivered at the thought.
“Ok dad thanks for your time” I said, as I stood from my chair.
My back ached and my legs were numb. I looked out the living room window and to my surprise, it was already halfway though sunset.
“Do you still want to go?” I asked Moe, who was getting up from his chair and still as green as ever.
“Yeah of course! Do you think I’m scared or something?” He said aggressively.
I sighed, “No, of course not. Get your flashlight and hurry up before the bugs start finding a new home on us”.
You guessed it. We are from Australia, insects and other pests galore!
Outside, a cow mooed in the distance.
* * *
I was greeted yet bothered by the chilly wind outside as soon as I pulled open the old caravan door. Holding my breath, I gazed into the dark void of darkness that seemed to be pulling me into the depths of what awaited me, beckoning me into its domain.
I gulped.
Moe pulled out his torch and shone it in the caravan, extinguishing the darkness instantly.
It was eerily quiet. The crickets stopped singing their tunes and the evening birds had ceased all the beautiful melodies they usually sing at this time of day.
There was no doubt about it, something was off.
Me and Moe’s footsteps made a muffled clacking sound as we took our very first steps into the room in which Samantha had supposedly met her egregious fate.
Moe darted his torch around the room; the small spot of light danced gracefully around the room, surrounded by familiar darkness.
Instinctively, I strode toward the bed lying against the wall of the small but sinister room.
This is it; this is the place where she died…
Or is she? That dark part of mind screamed out once again.
Suddenly, the door slid closed behind me and the dancing light was pulled out of the room in a sudden sweep.
Oh no…my mind said.
I whirled in time just to see Moe’s grinning face disappear from behind the wooden door before closing the door and leaving me in total darkness.
My eyes grasped at the dark for sweet sweet light but there wasn’t a single bit of light.
Seeming to be moving by themselves, my legs dashed to the door which my hands instinctively tried to break.
Every bang, shout, scream or noise I made would be sucked into my ear and spat out through the other. Nothing could reach the depths of my conscious mind. It seemed to be clouded by fear, and it was a very thick cloud.
Surrendering, I let myself fall to the floor whilst covering my face.
No, it was just a caravan. An old one…
Remember the story, that part of my mind that I wanted to pull out and punch said.
I had to get out.
I stood up and rubbed my eyes, fear was replaced with anger and hatred.
My brother closed the door on me and now it was jammed. Great.
The door seemed old enough to break down. Just a few punches and I’m free.
I aimed my fist, ready to punch.
The first few moments were a blur. I remember throwing a few non-effective punches at the door. Then before I could throw a fourth or a fifth (I could not recall how many I had thrown), I heard a creak behind me.
The nearest cabinet to my left was slowly opening inch by inch. It had to be a dream; maybe I passed out from all the fear and anger.
Now fully opened, the cabinet door was now swinging limply. Creaking as it did so.
The humanoid figure standing next to the cabinet though, wasn’t
It stood over 7 feet, ducking in order to avoid bumping its head against the roof of the old caravan. No words could possibly describe how I felt. I was utterly shocked and horrified.
The thing took a giant step towards me, as if it were stepping over a large puddle.
My eyes adjusting to the dark, I managed to get a clear view of its face; and I wish I hadn’t.
Its skin was astoundingly pale like a full moon on a clear night sky. The skin on the face was scrunched and contorted, as if someone had run a cake batter mixer on its face for thousands of years.
Most horrifying of all, were its eyes.
They were the size of peas.
Oh my god.
It seems to be blind, it can’t see me.
I am now hiding near the door and afraid to make a single sound.
It’s so
I hope someone could send help for me PLEASE. I don’t want my family to come looking for me only to get killed by that…THING
What the hell is it doing with its hands?!?!
Is it…sewing?