When I was about eight years old, my father changed jobs and we had to move. They bought a house that was much larger than our old one. I didn't want to move and leave my friends, but we did. The new neighborhood seemed very dark to me, and the people weren't as friendly. I told my parents this, but they said I just needed to stop comparing it to our old neighborhood, and that I should try to be nicer to people. I tried but when I smiled at our new neighbors, they never smiled back.1
The new house was another problem. At night, the variety of squeaks, scratches and thumps that came from the crawlspace kept me awake. I asked my father why the house made so many strange noises. 2
He said, "It's just the house settling." 3
I asked him how old the house was. 4
"About fifty years old, I guess," he answered. 5
I asked why it was taking so long for the house to settle. 6
He told me to go out and play.7
Laying in my bed at night, I had nothing to do but study the sounds the old house made. My habit of reading horror comics before bed didn't help matters. My overactive imagination imbued every sound with sinister origins. Was the house haunted? Were creatures living in the crawlspace? The walls? Would they find me when I was sleeping?8
As anyone living near an airport knows, the mind has a way of blocking out unpleasant noises. So it was that I learned to live with the sounds the old house made, and after a few months, my sleep was peaceful. One night, however, I was awakened by a very loud thump under the house, and then another. It was the loudest sound the house had ever made. I tried to get back to sleep but as I lay in the darkness, I heard something else. Voices and laughter, then a strange moaning, like a woman crying. This sound frightened me more than any other I had heard. I curled up into a ball and pulled the covers up to my chin. It was quiet for a minute and I prayed the crying wouldn't start again, but it did. 9
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I got out of bed and ran into my parents' room. I jumped on the bed and got between them. They woke up and asked me what was wrong. I told them there was a lady crying under my room. My father got upset and told me I couldn't read scary comic books anymore. My mother took my hand and went back into my room. She sat with me for a few minutes. I hoped the sound would come back so she could hear it, too, but it didn't. Finally, she tucked me back into bed, kissed my forehead, and told me it was probably just a dream. But I knew it wasn't.10
The next day, I was riding my skateboard along the sidewalk on my way to school. There was a large hedge on my left side. A man came out of a walkway between the hedge and I crashed into him and fell down. I looked up at him, expecting him to be as unfriendly as everyone else in this neighborhood, but he smiled, extended his hand to me, and said, 11
"Oh, I'm sorry! Are you alright?" 12
I took his hand and stood up. He brushed me off and said, "My name is Mr. Knight. What's yours?"13
"Mark," I answered.14
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Mark!"15
He walked off to his car and drove away. I was glad there was at least one nice person on my street.16
The noises under the house stopped for a while, or I was sleeping too deeply to hear them. I'm not sure which. But they started again one night with a vengeance. I got too scared again to lay in bed alone. I ran into my parents' room to get in bed with them, but they weren't there. I looked at the digital clock on the table by their bed. It was three in the morning. Where could they be? It didn't make any sense. I searched every room in the house but there was no sign of them anywhere.17
I told myself that they had just gone out to the store. Maybe they were feeling sick and needed medicine. They would be back soon. I was cold so I got into their bed. As I lay there waiting for them to come home, the room got colder and colder. I turned over, trying to stay warm, and noticed that their bedroom window was wide open. I got up to shut it and saw that the screen had been destroyed, sliced to pieces. My heart froze. Something had happened to my parents. My God. Something had happened to them.18
I ran to the phone to call the police. The line was dead. I ran outside, my panic and fear making me oblivious to the cold. I ran to the house next door and banged on the door. Nobody came. I kicked and banged the door again and again but still no one answered. I ran to the next house, and the next, and the next, but everyone seemed to have vanished. Not one light was on in any of the houses on my block. I started to cry. I didn't know what else to do but walk back to my house.19
I had left the front door wide open. I went inside and shut it, again telling myself that there was nothing wrong, that they would be home soon. I got back into their bed. The scent of my mother's perfume in the sheets made me cry again with fear that something had happened to her. Then, for the first time, I heard the noises beneath their room. Heavy thumps, a long scratching sound, squeaking like a rusty wheel, then the noise I was praying not to hear - a woman's voice moaning. I sobbed deeply and shook with terror. But there was something different about this voice. The one I had heard before didn't sound at all familiar, but this one did. It suddenly dawned on me why - it was my mother's voice.20
I shot out of bed to find her. She was somewhere in this house, but where? I searched every closet, the pantry, under the kitchen sink, horrible images running through my mind all the while about why she would be in any of those places. I turned the house inside out but couldn't find her, but the crying continued. It dawned on me then that there was one place I had never looked in. The crawlspace. The thought of exploring it had crossed my mind several times before. I even looked through the wood slats blocking the entrance in the backyard once, but it was too dark to see anything and the idea of going inside scared me too much. Now I had no choice. It was the only place she could be.21
I got a flashlight out of the kitchen drawer and went outside. I ran around to the crawlspace entry and was about to shine the flashlight inside when I saw an orange glow flickering on the side wall. Shadows of human figures danced on the wall. I could hear all the same noises that I had heard every night - the squeaking, scratching, the muted voices, and the awful, awful moaning - only the sounds were louder now. It hadn't been the house settling at all. 22
The house was L-shaped so I couldn't see the source of the orange light. There was no way to see it except to go inside and look around the corner of a cement wall. Driven by my desperation to find my mother and father, I pulled on the wooden slats. The nails holding them in place were rusty so they came off easier than I expected them to. I pulled them all off until there was a hole large enough for me to enter through. I went inside and was surprised at how high the ceiling, or the underside of my floor, was. I could almost stand up. I walked slowly toward the source of the light, not knowing what to expect, but something told me to stay quiet, that something terrible was happening.23
I finally came to the edge of the wall. I hid behind a supporting post and gradually looked around the wall's edge. First, I saw flames licking at the cold air. Then there was an old woman eating some kind of meat out of her hand. As I moved around further, I saw a man, and then another. They were eating, too. I was afraid they would notice me, but the light of the fire seemed to be blinding them to the darkness I was standing in, so I became more bold. I slowly tip-toed further in, and saw that there were at least six more people, and they were all wearing black. A very large man was blocking the center of the fire. Another was standing to his side, holding a handle and turning something over the fire. That was the squeaking sound I had been hearing. It was a rotisserie!24
I wanted to see what they were cooking. A pig? A turkey or chicken? I moved further to the right but knocked over a bottle. It landed on a rock and made a loud clinking sound. They all turned and looked in my direction. The old woman, her face illuminated by the fire and juices from the meat dripping from her wrinkled lips, yelled, "It's the boy! He has seen us!" 25
The large man turned and as he did, I saw his face. It was Mr. Knight! I could also see what was on the fire. A leg. A human leg! It was suspended on a metal pole. It was big, definitely a man's. The sickening realization then washed through me that it was my father's. I tried to scream but no sound came. My horror was too immense. Mr. Knight ran toward me. I tried to run toward the crawlspace opening but he blocked my path. I had no choice but to run the other way, into the darkest corner of the crawlspace. As I did, I tripped and fell. My face hit the dirt, and I found myself looking into my mother's eyes. She was lying on the floor, bound and gagged. She had watched them eat my father! She screamed through the gag, her eyes wide with horror. I heard Mr. Knight running toward me so I instinctively jumped up and ran away again. How would I save my mother? The others had joined in the chase and were spreading out to keep me from getting to the opening. There was nothing I could do. I had to get outside and bring help back.26
I ran straight toward them, then slipped to the side the way I did when I played football at school. Mr. Knight grabbed for me but I ducked out of the way and ran around him. I made it to the crawlspace and was almost completely out when I felt a hand grab my foot. My slipper came off so I was able to break free. I kicked off the other one and ran bare-footed down the driveway. I had nowhere to go, so I just ran and ran through empty streets for what seemed like an hour until I was out of the neighborhood. I already knew there was no point in knocking on doors. Nobody would answer. I also knew that it hadn't been my imagination that there was something wrong with the people on this street.27
I found myself in the area my mother had always called "downtown". I prayed that I would find another person, or that a car would pass, but it was four in the morning by this time and the whole world seemed deserted. Finally, a police car stopped and an officer jumped out and grabbed me.28
"What are you doin', kid?" he asked.29
I can't remember what I told him. Stuttering from the cold and the utter terror of what I had seen, I only babbled incoherently. 30
The cop said, "Whoa, hold on a minute! Slow down."31
He wrapped a blanket around me, put me in the police car, and told me to tell him what happened again. I told him the whole story but he just laughed. Why wouldn't he? I had just told him that witches were eating my parents. Even I knew how crazy it sounded. I felt like I was living in one of my own comic books.32
He put his hand on my shoulder and said, "I'm sure it was just a dream. Do you know where your house is?"33
I told him I did. I had run straight down the street away from my neighborhood. All we had to do was go back up. 34
He said, "I'll take you home and you'll see. Your parents are probably worried sick about you."35
But I knew what I had seen, and I knew they weren't worrying about anything anymore. I hoped they had let my mother live, but they had eaten my father and were about to eat her. Why would they have mercy now, or leave someone to tell what they had done? My heart was aching thinking about what must have happened to her.36
We arrived at the house. The front door was still open.37
"Hmm, that's weird," the cop said.38
He got out of the car and walked around to my door.39
"Come on, kid. Let's go inside."40
I shook my head no.41
"Are you sure?" he asked.42
He could see that there was no way I was going back into the house, so he said, "Okay, you stay here. I'll be back in a minute with your folks."43
He shut the door and walked to the front porch. He looked back at me for a second and smiled, but when he walked into the dark house, I saw him draw his gun. He reached for the light switch but the lights were still out. He turned on his flashlight and walked deeper into the house. About fifteen minutes later, he came back and opened the car door.44
"There's nobody home. They must be out looking for you." 45
I asked him if he looked under the house. 46
He said, "Yeah, I did. There was nothing down there. Nothing at all. See, it was just your imagination."47
But I knew it wasn't. 48
The sun was just starting to rise. I closed my eyes and prayed that my parents would come out of the front door, but they didn't. I started to cry again.49
The next thing I knew, someone had their hands on my shoulders, shaking me. I opened my eyes. It was my mother. It was Saturday and I was lying in my bed. It had all been a dream! 50
"Oh, thank you, God!" I thought, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" 51
I sat up and hugged my mother harder than ever before. 52
"Well! What's gotten into you?" she asked.53
I cried with relief as I buried my face in the soft skin of her neck.54
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" she asked. "Did you have a bad dream?"55
"The worst," I answered.56
"Well, come into the kitchen," she said. "You can tell us all about it over breakfast."57
My parents laughed at my dream and I laughed myself, but with relief that it wasn't true. It had all seemed so real.58
After breakfast, I went into my room, collected every horror comic I owned, and threw them into the trashcan. My favorite cartoon was about to start so I went into the front room and turned on the television. Outside, I saw Mr. Knight walking by. 59
Still brimming with relief that it had just been a dream, and that he wasn't actually the head warlock, I opened the window and yelled, "Hi, Mr. Knight!" 60
He stopped and looked over slowly. My heart froze as his eyes fixed on me, filled with a horrible, unearthly darkness.61
Author notes
This is an actual nightmare I had. The ending is true, too.
What did you think? Please comment!
Comments
1 - 48 of 48
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Great idea! Thanks. I hated to do the "and then I woke up" bit but this really was a nightmare I had as a kid, and the neighbor walking by on the sidewalk really did give me a creepy look. I should probably change it, though. Enough people have said the same thing. Never let the truth ruin a good story, as they say. I appreciate the advice.
Mark -
Well done
A great build up. Keeps the atmosphere and interest going right from the start. Tames down a little to find it all a dream. I would suggest that when he next crawls into that space there is actually a barbeque in there.........and the remains of a charred shoe. -
I think if I was having dreams like this, I would refuse to fall asleep! Definitely a page turner!
Nice work!
Mary ann -
This is my Grandson's comment: Mark I thought your story was good and freaky. The best part of the story I thought was when the boy was dreaming about all the noises that he was hearing. The part that creaped me out the most was when he was dreaming about his fathers leg getting chopped off and getting eaten,and the way it ended with evil eyes was scary too. But i was wondering did you realy dream about that when you were a boy? Garrett
Edited on Jun 06, 4:57 p.m. because ''. -
klassy lassy,
Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it. It was fun to write. This is a nightmare that I actually had as a child, and Mr. Knight really did give me a creepy look the next morning, but he probably just didn't see me in the window and I read more into his look than was there having just awoken from the nightmare. He probably couldn't figure out why I slammed the curtains shut so fast. lol
I hope it doesn't scare your grandson too much. Please let me know how he reacts.
Thanks again,
Mark -
That was actually an ending I considered. Kind of an "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" thing. lol Thanks for reading this. Sorry for the delay in responding. I hope you're doing well.
Mark
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Mark, you are a superb story teller. I found myself holding my breath as I finished this story. Scary, scary! LOL I sure remember being scared when I was small, but not like this. The hook at the end was chilling, especailly for a young boy. I am glad you found your voice in writing, how else would I get to explore your wonderful imagination? !! I am going to have to share this with my grandson next time he tells me he is bored. (he's 10) LOL
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Creepy....so you had an overactive imagination and a creepy sounding house too huh? I hated that when I was little. I had an attic crawlspace instead of a basement like thing.......*shivers* Good story though
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Excellent
I enjoyed this scary story...I found myself caught up in this and had to finish it....I half expected the police to be in on it
Glad it was only a dream....Nice work 
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What a nightmare Mark..lol..i enjoyed reading your dream..
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{shudders} Geez, Mark!!! Ya skairt me bad!!! This was awesome...'Tales of the Crypt' worthy, even!!! I used to read the horror comics, too, my Friend...not annnnnnnnnnymorrrrrrrrrreeeee...!!! 
Wanda
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OMG This is definitely a gold trophy winner! If you don't win this contest than I will be shocked! This was so creepy, intense and very well written, glad it was all a dream Uncle Mark... one that I know you'll no doubt forget! ---Sara
P.S What ever happened to Mr.Knight? -
yikes...I'm really glad I read this in the light of day...very scary (would make a great short story/movie!!!)...although I would be too scared to watch it...lol!!
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This was great Mark, it scared the chocolate out of me!LOL
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I havent yet read this yet, because when i scrolled down to see how long it was....my computer froze! (im serious) so...when i have a weekend clear I will try and get through the first volume of this....and I'll let you know what I think...lol!!!!
Dragon -
Hi David,
Thanks for the critique. Though I think a "flat retelling of events" might be a bit of an exaggeration, I find that first person stories are harder for readers to "get into" just because of their letter-like nature. Regarding "fleshing it out", I already have a reputation around here for writing long poems/stories, so I'm trying to be a little more concise. I felt satisfied with the length and amount of detail in this story when I was done with it, but I appreciate the critique. Maybe I'll do a rewrite again in the future when I'm not so close to it and see if I can use your ideas.
Thanks,
Mark -
The story itself is not bad but I believe you to be a better writer than this, in as much as it reads like a flat retelling of events rather than fully engulfing the reader with the feeling of dread. Some stories are told and quite frankly a fuller description tends to detract from its impact. But this could probably do with a greater painting of feelings as it would construct the atmosphere you wish to take your reader. As I said the basic story is good but to me it needs fleshing out as it has the bones but lacks the real descriptive meat. But it is a good story.
David -
That was uber-creepy....
I dunno if I'm going to be able to sleep tonight, I'm scared, I need a cuddle bunny *looks around for someone to offer to be her cuddle bunny tonight*
Nice story. I dunno what I was expecting, but it was a lot better than what I thought it would be
I'm so proud!
& 
Mindy -
a hand for breakfast? would that be considered finger food?? i kill me!
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Hey,
I wasn't planning on changing the ending because I enjoyed writing the story like it happened (poetic license excepted), complete with the spooky look Mr. Knight gave me the day after the nightmare. I just liked your idea of my parents serving me a hand for breakfast, too! What a shock ending that would be! haha
Thanks,
Mark -
by the way, i wasn't asking you to re-write the ending, i was just thinking out loud...or on paper...ummm no i mean, on screen...whatevah...lol
anyway, don't change it for this contest -
Great Write. Very eerie. Jack
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Wow, thanks for all the corrections. That's what I get for writing at two in the morning. lol Though it was the perfect time to write a spooky story. I'll make the corrections. Thanks again for taking the time to point them out.
As I mentioned to someone else above, I had actually written an entirely different ending where I end up in an insane asylum, telling the story because the doctor's said it might help me, etc. lol But in real life, Mr. Knight actually did give me a creepy look the day after the nightmare. I actually slammed the curtains shut and ran away. haha (His eyes weren't black but as they say, "Never let the truth ruin a good story." lol)
I like your ending, too. What if my parents were the cannibals. Hmmm . . . maybe another rewrite is in order. That's one of the great things about writing - so many choices!
Take care,
Mark -
Wow what a thrilling captivated story. Kept me in suspense the whole time.
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great
excellent, suspense-filled story - nothing else to say. -
Whoah, that's one helluva dream! I was kinda hoping that it would NOT end as a dream, or end like some gruesome reality (what DID mom fix for breakfast? hmmm?? bwahahha!), just to be different. Great job, though I did find a couple of minor grammatical mistakes you might want to correct (don't worry, they don't take away from the story, but being the anal retentive spelling/grammar nazi that I am, I'm gonna point out the ones I found and ask you to fix them):
- "into my parents room" -> parents' (2 places)
- "for me to enter through. I squeezed through" -> redundant use of "through"
- "that there something terrible was happening" -> "was" in wrong place, or remove "there"
- "saw that there was at least six more people" -> there "were" at least...
- "but to run the other direction" -> run IN the other...
- "He grabbed for me but" -> I assume you are referring to Mr Knight, but you're in a new paragraph, and so you can't really tell who "he" is
- "and told me tell him" -> told me TO tell him...
Thanks for entering my contest an good luck!
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This is a really awesome piece....It was really intence and it made for a wicked read. Totally loved it.
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Lol...okay, that was just a LITTLE creepy, n'cest ce pas? lol But I really enjoyed it...at first, I was kinda hesitant, but by the time the things that went bump in the night made their appearance, I was pretty much hooked...lol. I've always been a sucker for any ghostly tale, and then when you add in good old fashioned cannibalism, well, then, just color me happy! Really kick arse story...and so cool that it was from an acutal dream too!
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I think my heart has just jumped out of my chest. I wouldn't sleep for weeks if I had a dream like that. I did dream once that the black hole was in the middle of my bedroom, and Dracula was pushing everyone in my family off, one by one. Yours sure beat mine out of the water with the scare. I would have a heart attack. This was so amazing. I thoroughly enjoyed reading this one. I just loved it. Good luck to you in the contest.
becca
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very scary!!! 8- O
om my sweet god this is a excellentstory creepy and very scary . u are very good at this . the only thing i didn't liked at all was at first the nice ending where it was all a dream but! u finished it marvelously , i was actually scared for the boy , cannibals thats a nice topic sadly this is the first time i hear from u so i hopeall ur stories & poemsare as good as this one cuz if they are and im sure they will be u have fromtoday a new fan . beautiful work!!! -
Rolling eyes ha ha Don't let him get your goat Great One (grinning at her own inside joke, you must be something to end up where ya did before right? ) Anyways.. I could picture this as part of the Goosebumps series.. Had me hook, line and sinker.. Really a new side to you at least that I haven't read and I liked it.. Take Care, and be safe, Catressa
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ooh, that's creepy..definately creeped me out
well done!
Adreena
xxx -
I re-write a lot as well, but I generally do that as I'm writing it; I may write something down, then decide I don't like it, so I cross it out (I write in a notebook first for rough drafts, if you will) and re-write it, and I can usually finish something within the hour. I agree with observing the rules if one is to be a writer; there's no sense in cranking out stories and poems if one is going to write like this: "AnD den ah rane down da stret an die." Nobody wants to read anything like that. Of course, I could post numorous examples of various, ahem, mistakes people have made that I've had the misfortune of reading, but I don't have the time, and I don't feel like dredging them up from the depths of my memory.
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BK,
Well, la-dee-dah! Half an hour, huh, Mr. Hot Shot? lol Just kidding.
I tend to rewrite a lot. That's the most time-consuming process. I actually wrote the story in about an hour, then changed the ending. In the original one, I ended up in an insane asylum, but I decided to end it on a more positive note, with a twist at the end like those old horror films that end with "The End???" haha
Yeah, that "rotting meat" dream is definitely bizarre. I like to dabble in dream interpretation but I don't even want to touch that one. haha
I do believe grammar, spelling, punctuation, etc., is important. If a person is going to call themselves a writer, they should observe the rules.
Thanks for the comments.
Mark -
what an incredible story!
gave me an awesome rush, to read each
paragraph...and it seemed to use such awesome
vocabulary..yet, not above the average reader!
I am quite impressed! -
I had a weird dream once in which a bunch of stupid kids kept breaking in and leaving rotted meat in the fridge and on the kitchen counters and stuff; very odd, to say the least.
It took you two hours to come up with this? I've gotten some of my stories done in half an hour. Don't get me wrong, I liked this and the way it was done, from the perspective of an eight-year-old, or at least, that's what I got from it. Not a bad write; you're one of the few authors I've read on this site who actually seems to make a point in using proper grammar and spelling and such. -
ok i really don't like to read things this long but i just couldn't stop wow i'm really scared now thank god i sleep with three big dogs or i don't think i will sleep tonight thanks for the great reading i always enjoy things from you
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This was awesome... it really gave me the creeps. You are an excellent author - I couldn't stop reading! Good luck in this contest.
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I really liked your story, and it is even cooler that you actually had this dream as a child. Strange how the best stories are our own nightmares!
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spooky!!
WoW! Heartpounding! Could feel myself on the edge "devouring" every word. Did you get the same "willies" writing as you had the morning after, as you recalled the dream while you were writing? The part about being chased and grabbing your slipper immediately recalled a nightmare I used to have as a child about my basement stairs. The stairs don't have risers, and I used to dream that a hand would reach out and grab my foot as I was going down them.As a result,I hated going down there, and when I had to, I would book like the devil going up them.Actually, I became quite proficient at jumping steps.Great read and thoroughly enjoyed. Good Luck in the contest..reads like a winner to me. ~Michelle~ -
Mark,
Your writings always get me pulled in. This one did too. The first thing I did was scroll down to see how long it was, and then look at the clock to see if I had time to read it. I did, and knew I had time to comment. Also have an applause to give you, but would give you one even if I used them all anyway. Yeah, I'm like that.
I have this problem with dreams. I have a hard time separating them from reality. When I wake from them, I don't know the difference. When I lived alone, before I was married, I would have dreams that my boss would call and was going to come over to discuss something with me. I knew it was the middle of the night, but I would get up and vacume and straighten up my house. It would take me some time to understand that I had a dream and it was not true.
I dream now that people are standing at the foot of my bed. I wake my husband to tell them to leave. It is not frightening, but he has to tell them to leave. They do. Odd. Lots of things I won't go into. Worst is when I dream my husband did something that he didn't. Boy, he has to answer for that!!!
I enjoyed your story, sorry I rambled on and on.
Cheryl
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Holy cow! This just had me drawn in from the very first line..There was so much suspense I was on the edge of my seat..the imagination is an amazing thing. I have nightmares a lot and sometimes fear can make the line between dreamworld and reality- very thin.. Bravo on this one..
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Well, as they say, paranoia is just another word for heightened awareness! lol Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they're not all out to get me. haha
Goodnight,
Mark -
Sorry Mark... Paranoia is my thing. Go find your own crutch. LOL..... Jack
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Hey Susan,
I'll check it out first thing tomorrow. This story just sucked the life out of me. Must . . . have . . . sleep. lol
Thanks for reading this. I know it's a long'n.
Mark -
Hey Jack,
Yep, I sure did! It was the only class in high school that ever did me any good. I can type like the devil. lol I got this written in two hours. I was having trouble with the ending. Originally, I ended up in a mental hospital. But I decided to stay with the truth. This was an actual nightmare I had as a kid, and Mr. Knight actually did give me a horrifying look the day after the nightmare when I saw him walking down the street. I closed the curtains and ran. haha It was probably just my imagination . . . or was it?
Mark -
excellent~
Oh
You got me drawn in this one from the start
I love it and I love a good story
This one is excellent hun
Good luck in the contest and I just posted a new one
Hope you come by and read only one view so far
Love n hugs
Susan~~~
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Great write. Did you take a typing class in college? You get more done in one night then I have of my thirteen years of writing. LOL. Jack
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