When I was a kid, I hated taking showers. Every time I closed my eyes when washing my hair I was afraid to open them. I was worried that, if I opened them, some scary monster would materialize in front of my face. Sometimes I would open my eyes only to have them burned by the shampoo. It sounds goofy, I know, but I now realize that my fears had a reason behind them.
Something was in that house. Every time I was home alone, I felt it. I felt its eyes burning into my neck. Something was watching me. I knew it. I would turn my back every minute only to realize that nothing was there. Sometimes I would sit against the wall, no matter how uncomfortable it was, just to make sure that nothing was standing behind me.
It was summer. No school, and my mom was at work all day. I was alone in that house all day long. Every time I turned around I would see the same thing: nothing. Nothing was there. But then I turned around, and I would feel it again. I would go on like this for several hours before my mom got home from work.
It got worse every day. The feeling would get more intense. It would happen more and more often. Sometimes I would feel its breathing on my neck. But, time and time again, I would turn my back only to be greeted by nothing.
I began hearing footsteps from the attic. Slow, rhythmic footsteps. I wrapped myself up in a blanket and turned on the TV to drown out the noise.
A few days later, I saw it. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. It was not human. It was a horrid figure with purplish-black skin that looked as if it were rotting. It had no clothes and its legs and arms were abnormally long and spindly. It looked emaciated, its arms were thin and I could see its ribcage. But its face. Good lord that face. It had no nose, just two slits were the nose should be. Its eyes were a putrid brown and appeared to be leaking what I can only assume to be blood. Black, chunky blood. Its mouth was contorted into a horrendous smile. It crawled off into the shadows on all fours after I saw it.
I called 911. I told them someone was in the house. After the police arrived, they scanned the house for a while and called my mom. I saw mom pull up to the driveway and run out of her car. I ran to her and hugged her. I was crying uncontrollably. The police walked up to my mom and told her that there was noone inside the house nor was there any signs of forced entry. They talked to my mom for a while, then packed up their stuff and left. My mom told me nobody was in the house and I was just imagining things. I was not imagining things. I knew what I saw.
I begged my mom not to go to work today. She said she had to work, but if I got really scared I could call her and she would come right home. I watched her drive off, feeling a sense of dread in my stomach. I sat on the couch and waited for her to get home. For a while, nothing happened. After a few hours the footsteps returned. They were furious. They were stomping straight in my direction. I hugged my pillow and quivered. The footsteps grew louder and louder until it seemed they were right on top of me.
Then they stopped.
My eyes filled with tears. I looked up.
It was on the ceiling.
