Posts
Challenges
Portals
Authors
Books
beta
Sign Up
Challenge
For me, true horror is the thing you can’t see.
Write up something where someone is being stalked or hunted by something. The catch for this is that you will be describing the presence of something truly horrifying and evil, but you cannot describe it physically.

*Cracks Knuckles and Puts Music On Blast*

I don’t like the basement of our house. No particular reason, but I know I don’t like it. I won;t tell my husband, because he will either tease me or try to prove that everything is okay. It would be alright if he proved me wrong, but it would only mean that if I truly had reason to not like the basement, I would be walking into a bad situation blind. If there is something bad down there, I want to be ready for it.

I love our new house. We bought it barely a month ago, and I’ve had the time of my life setting up each room exactly how I want it to look. I’ve even started painting again to decorate all our bare walls. Our apartment was too small to showcase my art, so I’m making up for lost time. I love fixing up each room, except for the basement.

The staircase going down is right next to our bedroom, which I think is weird. If I lean just right on the bedframe, I can see the first couple stairs. I don;t want to look, though. I try my hardest to ignore the noises that wake me up at night. It’s just the cats making a ruckus. Also, I ignore the fact I’ve had nightmares every day since we’ve moved in.

We have our computers set up in the basement. Mostly because it’s much cooler, and it would deter anyone from stealing them. My husband gets irritated that I keep asking what he’s mumbling. He insists he hasn’t been talking to me. I won’t wear my headphones when I’m by myself. So, I turn my music all the way up to drown out the cats thunking around upstairs.

Our laundry room is also in the basement, which I’m not excited about in the least. I’ll start putting clothes into the washer, and then I’ll hear the door click shut behind me. It must be the stupid cords since they’re leaned right up against the back of the door, so it’s impossible to keep open for long. If I prop the door open, it’s okay, but then I can hear the stairs squeaking. If I just hurry up, throw in the clothes without sorting them, grab the dry stuff, and then rush back up the stairs, it’s just fine.

When I turn the lights off to go upstairs, I ignore my impulse to run up. I fight the urge to walk upstairs backwards so I can watch behind me. There’s no boogeyman. I haven’t believed in monsters since I was 9. So, I ignore the urge to run. I ignore the sensation of someone breathing on my neck. I ignore my fear that something is about to grab my ankle. It’s just a musty old basement, and I’m too old to believe in monsters anymore.

3
2
0