Don't look back. If you feel he's watching, run. Never look under the bed; that's when they get you. Just survive. Don't trust anyone. Not even this letter. Stay safe, and stay awake when the night strikes at 3 AM. Love, Mom
As I read the sloppy handwriting of my mother, almost as if she was in a hurry, I glance at the digital clock in the poorly lit basement of the abandoned house. It read 3:33 AM. An uneasy feeling settled inside my bones. The creaking of the door at the top of the stairs to the basement reverberated through the room.
I call out.
No reply.
A sudden screeching sound, like nails on a chalk board, filters my ears. I cover them in an attempt to stop the noise.
I run up the stairs and out the door to one of the rooms. I crawl under the bed to hide.
I hear feet dragging slowly, too slowly. I peek to the door when long, black fingers creepily grab the door, one by one latching onto it. It disappeared as quickly as it came. I blink thinking I'm losing my mind.
The creak of the old wooden floorboards interrupt my thoughts. Then...
Silence.
The only noise is coming from my rapid pants of breath; it quivers with the shake of my lips.
A laugh is the only sound I hear as I'm being dragged from under the bed while my own screams are the only thing left of me.
YOU ARE READING
The Man Hiding Under Your Bed
Horror"Don't look back. If you feel he's watching, run. Never look under the bed; that's when they get you. Just survive. Don't trust anyone. Not even this letter. Stay safe, and stay awake when the night strikes at 3 AM."
