I first met him when I was nine years old. I would never see him at home or any other place for that matter expect my grandmas house. As usual I would go to my grandmas house while my mom worked as well as my dad, I never got to see much of them, I was also home schooled so I didn't get to see much of anyone, not even little fingers. The first time I saw him was in the basement. The basement door was always locked, so I could never go and see him, but he would occasionally slide his fingers under the door and wiggle his fingers, indicating he was there. His fingers were very unusual, they were blue and cracked and they didn't have any nails, they were ripped off, and where the wound would have been was sewn shut. Not being able to see through the door, I would peek underneath and see him dance around the room and whisper odd things to me that I couldn't understand. Sometimes I would ignore him if I didn't understand which would only make him angry, he would bang against the door and scream at me, he would slide his fingers under the door scratching trying to get at my legs, but I would always be able to get away fast enough.
"I will get you one day, I will come for you"
He said awful things to me, terrible things to me, but I knew that he was never going to harm me. I knew he wanted to so bad to hurt me, but he was down there and I wasn't so I was safe, so I thought.
The day came. My mom had gotten a raise at work and was making a lot of money. She thought it was a good idea to move into the city away from the country side, which meant away from grandmas house, and little fingers. The day came and I was about to say goodbye to little fingers forever, but when I turned the corner that lead into the hallway which lead to the basement door, it was open. He stood at the foot of the stairs, looking up at me, and for the first time I saw what he looked like. His skin was charred and black with flesh peeling off. His head had only strands of hair falling over his face, and his left eye was popped out of its socket and was hanging carelessly. He stood smiling, teeth rotten which made his smile crooked, he waved up at me and whispered,
"I'm coming for you"
I turned around to run but it was already too late, he was half way up the stairs by the time I reached the corner he grabbed hold of my legs and pulled me down into the basement. I thought of the worst that he was going to do to me, rip me apart cut me up and eat me, but no. all he did with his little fingers was tickle me and whisper
"scratch scratch scratch"
Then he was gone. From that day on I have never seen him or heard of him until recently. I am now 18 years old and I'm writing this because yesterday when I was walking past the basement I couldn't help but notice under the door, his little fingers.
