Short Scary Stories

Stalker.

It’s worth noting the few minutes I’ve had to spend clenching and unclenching my hands in order to regain the control of my nerves; just enough to put down in plain words, the events that continue to fester in the back my mind.

Unburden the soul – that’s why people make confessions, right?

I admit now that these memories continue to redevelop my childhood fear of the dark.

As I write this, I realize what I’m searching for is a shared experience. Somebody who can simply say…you’re not alone.

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For a while my parents were renting out this property a few miles from where we lived. They were struggling to find the ‘right’ tenants and in some cases keep them. The upkeep itself was becoming a burden and generally it just wasn’t generating enough money for them to keep it going.

As I was in that transitional stage of seeking my own place anyway, I realized that this was a perfect opportunity for me to fill the void of my parent’s much needed tenants. After some persuasion I was handed the keys under two conditions: that I would pay half of the rent and continue to look for my own apartment. I recall my dad added jokingly not to burn the place down as he dropped the key into my hand.

I was prepared for the house to get lonely, even creepy at times, but these things noticeably developed into something far more pronounced as the days grew short and my working nights long. I’ve always been aware of my tendency to stay up late, finding peace in some knowledge that I wouldn’t fall prey to a sombre thought or bad dream…not until I reached that point where I simply couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.

To pay my half of the agreed rent I continued to work late as a freelance web designer. This would have been sometime between 1 and 5am when I first heard that calm tap of heeled shoes upon the concrete path outside. In the silence of my room at an hour where cars would seldom pass, this casual tap had stirred me from my work. I never really believed it to be completely out of the ordinary, just a girl walking home from a late night of drinking.
I know now this was something else.

The days continued to be a bright and welcoming change from the cold nights before it; a life of independence that left an even brighter smile upon my face. Inviting a couple friends to hang out – like old times – we’d kick back with some terrible horror film and drink and few beers before I needed to settle back into some work.

My friends had left me that night with a lingering taste for beer. Usually, at this point I’d make myself a cup of tea and remain confined to my bedroom until morning. Some nights I’d hastily move across the darkness of my landing to the sanctuary of my bathroom, brush my teeth and dart back. (I never did buy a bulb for that landing)

This time I grabbed a beer from the fridge and like clockwork, checked that the back door was locked and the windows were firmly shut before heading up. I continued to top up my courage with a sip of beer as I walked along the creaking boards of the landing. My room – as always – a static blur in the darkness as I approached; Feeling that familiar emptiness of the staircase below my feet, I took another sip.

That night I remember the progress of my work coming to an abrupt end. Uninspired I sat listening to the wind through my open window until slowly my ears detected a particular sound fading into the wind.

………tap…..tap…..tap…..tap…..tap…

I frowned realizing what I never did before, that the street was a cul-de-sac. There was a single detached house beside my own before it would end; overlooking the hills of my town.
She must live next door I thought listening to that cold tap pass slowly from one end of the window to the other. Remembering the hour at which she passed suddenly sent hairs on the back of my neck to clamber out of my skin.