
Before I start I wanted to say that I'm normally not this weird or creepy. I couldn't sleep one night and this came into my head, and I had to write it down to get it out of my head before I could sleep.
I woke startled. "It's only the house shifting again," I reassured myself softly.
Strange occurrences had been taking place quite frequently. For example, just the day before I had noticed one of the few steak knives I owned missing. Also, things that I had put away would appear half way across the house in a matter of minutes. What had me worried the most were the disturbances at night. Sounds of shuffling feet and the rustle of cloth against living flesh.
"Perhaps my imagination is getting the best of me," I would say.
I had resigned to the conclusion that it was merely the foundation of my house cracking. Although, tonight the sounds had grown louder and more prominent. I decided to investigate, only to confirm my assumptions of course.
I rose up out of bed sleepily, and slipped on my ratty robe and worn slippers. I am not for certain why I did this. There was no other living in the house besides myself, or so I thought.
I recalled the last audible movement I had heard. The path from the kitchen into the confines of my linen closet. I started toward my destination, my heart pumping, though, what was I to be afraid of? I slowed when I heard the faint noise of breathing, inhaling then exhaling. Yet, my curiosity won over my better judgement. I reached for the knob of the door,but as my fingers came in contact with it the door swung open.
There was the culprit; the origin of every extraordinary thing that had happened holding my missing knife in one hand. I let out a screech as he plunged it inside me and pulled it back out. He repeated this process in several different areas of my body, being careful not to puncture vital organs. In this way he created an entertaining show for himself; a more gradual, agonizing death for me.
As he performed his horrific deed he watched my dark, red blood seep through the clothes hanging limp from my body, which was now growing colder. He enjoyed every last screech and wail that escaped my mouth. All the while, paying the closest attention to the light slipping out from underneath my once incandescent eyes.
Love, Beyhey
P.S. Again don't get freaked out. I'm really not a depressing person.
:)