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AllyLogan [2019-08-20 15:43:57 +0000 UTC]

Thank you. I never wrote a horror piece like that..

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AllyLogan [2019-08-20 07:17:53 +0000 UTC]

The air in this mansion is dank and redolent of dead hopes. The soles of my sneakers are quiet as my eyes take in the dim sunlight. Even though it's just after 10 AM, predatory shadows leer and whisper silent doom. "Geez Ally, get a grip, girl." I whisper. Ahead is the staircase. They said it lives up there. But no one would tell me what it was,
 
The dust motes that glided around me seemed annoyed at my presence, They took their time as they flitted around me, catching the light, distracting me. It would take a cleaning crew a month, but this place could be made livable again. Paint, new carpeting and drapes and a proper airing out would do wonders.

Stop it Ally! I tell myself. Focus now. I reach behind me, pulling the Glock out of the waistband of my skirt. The weight of it steadied me. My heart, that was fluttering in my chest, settled itself. But my blood sang a nervous tune. Holding it at low ready, my thumb flips the safety off. Slow, steady breath. Then, placing my back near the wall, I start to climb the stairs.

My eyes scan ahead. There's no sign of pressure mats, trip wires or LED sensors. The only threat is noise. My left foot lifts slowly, then gently presses on the step. There's no noise, but the decades old grunge on the wall behind me beckoned my blouse. The mere thought of touching that wall skeeved me out,

Another breath, held it, then my right foot joined my left. Good, no sound by my breathing and heartbeat. I could feel perspiration beading on my skin, trickling down between my breasts. Next step, then another, and another. 30 seconds between each. 16 steps, 8 minutes of climbing.

I ask myself what I'm so afraid of. There's no sign of life, the dust on the floor is undisturbed except for my passage. The power is off and has been for years. There is no logical reason to be scared. 

But the stories. Strange sounds, lights where none should be, The legends that old homes acquire over the years.

Those stories haunted me since I was a girl.

Now I'm inside and inside me, I feel like that little girl, afraid of the shadows. Each step upwards feels like a day passes between them. I lick me lips, now dry despite my lipstick. I'm going to need to shower if I get home.

No, when I get home. When, not if. When. I make that word a mantra as I climb step after step. The sunshine is welcome, but my shadow seems to scream "I'm here!" I move out of the sun as I ascend slowly, laboriously as if carrying a load of bricks on the shoulders.

There's a creak in the next to last step. I freeze, holding my breath, my hands sweating into the rubber grips of my pistol. The sun glares at me.

My heart pounds like a jackhammer. I try to slow it. 'When I get home, when I get home, when I get home, when I get home.' I repeat endlessly till the words have no meaning. Another shallow breath that catches in my throat. Then, trembling with either fear or the exertion. I climb onto the landing, leaving the sun on the wall like a pale yellow square of an alien's blood.

To my right is a hallway, to my immediate left, is a door. It's dark, faded and cracked wood has clearly seen better days. Perhaps in the last century. The thought brings a smile to my face. The doorknob is still in place. It's gorgeous, a work of brass and crystal that is so incongruous with the rest of the door, even the house itself,

There was no dust on the doorknob. My heart rate doubles as I realize what that meant.

Someone had opened the door recently.

Fear.

Fear was behind me, threatening as it slid into me, freezing my heart. As if on it's own, my left hand releases my grip on the pistol and turns the knob. It's cold against my palm. It's cold and unlocked. The door swings inward and inch, then stops.

The effort to slow my breathing is harder than anything I've ever done. I hear nothing. Not the wind rustling outside, not the settling of the house. Nothing.

Ok, time to do this. Taking my pistol in both hands, I go full Milla Jovovich as my left leg kicks the door open and I sweep inside, my pistol fanning right to left.

I see....

End

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rendercomics [2019-08-20 04:19:47 +0000 UTC]

Don't make any noise creeping up those stairs or it might come out.

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