"The Boy"

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
After a night of drinking, a young man has a terrifying experience.

Submitted: January 10, 2012

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Submitted: January 10, 2012



The boy wakes up at a quarter-past-two in the morning after a night of hard drinking. His head aches from imbibing so much alcohol, but it's a feeling he's been used to for many months now. He lies still on the mattress, groaning about the pain. His eyes open to the pitch black of his room, and his eyes fix upon an unusual glow by his desk. It disappears after only a second. The boy arises, grabbing his glasses as he rolls off the bed. He inspects the area only to find that there is nothing to cause the illumination. He contemplates the chance that his phone, which is back on his bed, caused the sight. He quickly comes to the conclusion that it is too far away to have done the job. Despite his perplexed mind, he dismisses the brief experience and leaves his room, turning on a light before exiting.

After relieving himself, he searches the kitchen for leftovers from last night's dinner. He finds nothing appealing, so he turns to the fridge for something to eat. Again he finds nothing, thus opening the freezer atop to locate a snack. There he spots a fresh tub of chocolate ice cream; he takes it out and fills a small bowl with the chilled deliciousness. He puts both the tub and bowl in the freezer while he goes to the pantry to fix himself a bowl of popcorn.

Something catches his eye: the lights in the basement are on, even the light in what his brother once dubbed "The Fortress of Solitude." He ventures down the stairs to check out the oddity, and notices a brief illumination in the Fortress. He heads in, but finds nothing out of the ordinary. He considers turning off the lights before going back upstairs, but something inside him convinces him otherwise. He returns to the kitchen and pops his popcorn, heading back to his room once it finishes.

He turns on the television as he eats, his mind drifting farther and farther from the strange occurrences. It isn't long before both his treats are no more; he exhales in delight as he relaxes back into his bed. As he sits there, the tube playing humorous cartoons for him, he finally thinks over what he witnessed earlier. It doesn't make sense to him as he tries to figure it out. He ultimately comes up with no solution.

A knocking comes at his door. He heard no footsteps preceding the rapping, and he did not hear his brother get out of bed. He hesitates getting up, and the child's voice that comes from behind the door freezes him. The voice then giggles and silence falls, save for the cartoon on TV.

The boy eases off the mattress to see if his brother is possibly playing a trick on him, but stops halfway to his door when his closet door begins to shake. He slowly turns to face the new sound, taking careful steps toward the closet. The rattling becomes violent. The boy steps back. A low growl emits from the closet and quickly erupts into an ear-shattering scream.

"You've set me up to fucking fail this time!" it bellows over and over.

The boy doesn't understand the meaning, but nonetheless he curls up against the door to his room. It begins to slam against him as if a linebacker was trying to break in. The child's voice joins in, repeating in unison the phrase from whatever hid in his closet. The boy claps his hands over his ears to deafen the frightening voices, but they still ring clear.

Fingers reach out from under the closet door, boney and elongated things that scratch against the teal paint of the door that holds the creature within. The boy begins to shout as his eyes clench shut, unintelligible words coming from his throat.

All is quiet. All is still. A horrid stench permeates the air as the brother storms in to see what has the boy so scared. The boy is curled up on the floor, a bloody makeshift club clutched in his hands. The closet door hangs open, a disgusting mass of flesh lying just outside the doorway. The boy mumbles something under his breath as the brother kneels in horror next to the unidentifiable mass.

"What is this thing?" he asks, tilting his head back to the boy. He doesn't answer, lost in trauma. When the brother approaches, the boy reacts in the only way that seems proper: he swings the club with as much force as he can muster. He doesn't stop until the brother is as unidentifiable as the mass.

The boy wakes up a quarter-past-two in the morning after a night of hard drinking.

© Copyright 2018 Tyler Gohde. All rights reserved.

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