An Unwanted Houseguest

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic


She is a prisoner in her own home.

Submitted: January 04, 2018

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Submitted: January 04, 2018

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A A A


An Unwanted House Guest

I am living with a silent predator. I am a prisoner in this house. She always seems to be watching me, no matter what room of the house I try and hide in. Even when I am in the shower at my most vulnerable, I will look up and see her there. Staring at me. I can feel her eyes burning a hole through me.

There have been days when I was certain she was gone. How short lived the feelings of relief were. She always came back. I’ve considered running from this place, running and never looking back. She is always in the doorway when I try to leave.

I wasn’t always the only one here, sharing this feeling of dread. There was another soul trapped in this place, avoiding her like death. She killed him. I didn’t see how she did it, but I know she did. I saw her with the body. She had him wrapped in a white sheet. I can’t even bear the thought of what she did with his body. She is devoid of a conscience. She feels no guilt for what she does. No empathy for others. She is a murderer.

As I lay in bed at night, she is always in my head. The thoughts are always the same. I imagine her creeping into bed with me. She slowly caresses my face, I can feel the short bristles of hair on her legs scratching me. She punctures my flesh, filling me up with her poison. She is a disease on this earth, a parasite. At times these thoughts begin to feel too real. It makes my body shudder and seize up. My heart is pounding so hard and fast, it feels as though it is trying to tear a hole in my chest. I start to feel dizzy and my mouth goes dry. I want to throw her off, but I can’t. I am paralysed by fear. I’m left lying in a puddle of sweat and tears.

I wake up early most days. This morning is no different. She looked to be sleeping, although it is hard to tell. She has made herself comfortable in the living room. How I wish I had the courage to approach her, and destroy her. I want to light her and her silk sheets ablaze. I want to hear her squeal. I don’t care if the house went down with her, I’d be free from the torment.

I’m going to leave this place. Today is the day.
I slowly walk to the front door, maintaining eye contact with that skinny gangly devil. It feels like an eternity of never ending footsteps. I look away just for a second and when I turn back, she’s gone! How is she that fast!? It has to be now. I run for the front of my house, swinging open the door. I leapt through and made a beeline for my neighbour’s house.

I start erratically pounding on her front door. She appears at the window, with a less than impressed expression on her face. She lets me in and I tell her everything I’ve been going through. The air is so tense, and the room is silent for a while. She tells me I need help. She says there’s millions of people that experience the same torment I have been living.

She says it’s called Arachnophobia.


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