Nightmare In My Garage

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
The Nightmare started like this...

Submitted: October 10, 2010

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Submitted: October 10, 2010

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The nightmare started like this... I was sitting on the soot black sofa, leaning against a leopard print cushion and staring at the television when my parents asked me to put the christmas tree back into the garage. I never liked the garage. It's a giant shadow infested room cluttered with ancient nick-nacks. I started to dissasemble the christmas tree, The baubels and tinsel banged and crashed as they settled into the damp cardboard box in which they lived. I hauled the christmas tree down the stairs- leaving colonies of small scratches on the walls as the pines bristled agains them. Once I had made my way across the garden, I mounted the christmas tree against the crumbling garage wall as I felt for the key in my lint lined pockets. Once I had found the key, I placed it in the lock hole and turned it. Curls of rust scraped off of the lock, the door squeaked and elevated upwards. I picked up the christmas tree and entered my garage. I scaled mountains of boxes and dusty antiques until I found the christmas tree's stand. I then slotted the christmas tree into the stand and started my descent down mountain dusty antique. Unfortunately, as soon as i got in arm's length of the door, a split hose pipe wound itself up my leg, almost like a snake, i swear I could hear it hissing. I fell head first into my skateboard and accidentaly bowled the keys outside of the garage. I then foolishly grabbed the door and hoisted myself up, only to shut it and lock myself in. It was dark and silent. I scampered into the dusty corner and cried. Suddenly, I heard a large crash in the corner of the garage. I wasn't here alone. I got to my feet, although i was in such a state, i only went and collapsed down to the floor and swallowed a ton dust. The crashing was getting closer. It was no use. I grabbed a rusty pipe and swung it blindly around the garage, spewing up a dusty fog and sending boxesflying around the garage. An ice cold hand grabbed my neck and pulled me down ontop of a box labelled " Lightbulbs" and started to strangle me. It's greasy hands happily wringed my neck, I felt the air being sucked out of my lungs. And then I woke up. Beads of sweat trickled down my face, the air around me felt humid, and my clothes stuck to my body. And that's when I heard my parent's say: Philip, Would you be a dear and put the christmas tree back in the garage?" You can guess my answer.


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