Run

Run

I am waiting. It is 2:30 am, and I can already feel its presence. It will come for me soon; when the time is right. But you have no idea what I'm talking about. I hope with all that I have that someone will find this and that it will someday find its way into the world. Maybe it won't be too late to save someone else from this fate.

My story begins at the start of the hot, humid summer of 1997. June first to be exact. The heat was already climbing its way up, and I had just finished unpacking the last box, for I had recently moved in. It was a relief at the time to have a new place. The house itself was lovely. I knew from the first glance that it was very, very old. The paint was still in good shape, and the foundation was strong. Having all the rooms full of furniture from the last resident was another upside. The lawn had been taken over with weeds and roots. I almost find it funny now that all I had in mind then was how I was going to keep up with the yard work.

The same day, I had replaced a window that was broken out and boarded up. While picking up the glass from the ground outside, I had found an old, crumpled piece of paper. Written in smeared, red ink was one word. A word that, when ignored, led to imminent destruction. In that red ink, the one solitary syllable that was the only advice I would get, in three insignificant letters, was the word that could have saved me. "Run". Back then, I had laughed, thinking that some kids had tried to pull a prank. It didn't occur to me that the glass was broken outwards, a telltale sign that the single-worded paper came from the inside. I regret now that I did not heed that word's warning. If only I had listened. I didn't.

The first week in the old house was fine. Maybe even perfect. Everything seemed normal enough. The night of June eighth was when it all went wrong. That night, I woke up from a deep, dreamless sleep. It was dark and quiet. I looked at the small clock beside me on the nightstand. It read 3:00 a.m. For a reason unknown to me at the time, I was terrified. Terrified like a young child with a monster in the closet or under the bed. My hair was standing on end, and I was shivering uncontrollably. I had sworn that the room had gotten colder. A dark shape appeared to be moving near the foot of my bed. I thought I was imagining things so I closed my eyes. I could not get back to sleep. My eyes opened to watch the twisting shadow watching me. It seemed to be leaning over the end of my bed. Finally, at 4:00 a.m., I drifted off to sleep once more. I dreamt of hidden eyes watching me from darkened corners and unseen things whispering "You won't leave."

Then…sunlight. I awoke to the buzzing of my alarm. As I walked out of the room, my mind tried to make sense of what had happened. I had thought that maybe it was just the way a mind reacted to an unfamiliar house at night, when you are all alone in the dark, and shadows are creeping about you. Maybe my mind was still partially asleep, and I was just imaging things. I know now that there really was no monster. No. It was something much worse.

More nights passed by without incident. I had started to forget about the whole thing. Then it got worse. I woke up and could not sleep from 3:00 a.m. to 4:00 a.m. every night. I would start feeling scratches on my legs and arm, but when I awoke, nothing was ever there. Things would move across the room. Doors would crack open. My bed would shake. All through that hour, every night, that distinctly indistinct shadow would stand there, and my bed would shake. With each appearance, the shape of the thing got more and more defined. The room got colder and colder. It kept coming back.

The fourth of July came and went. The temperature rose to its peak; as did my nightly visits from It. (Whatever It is). The paper, my paper, kept showing up on my nightstand. Run. I considered it. The bedroom door had creaked closed as I did. Decision made. I could go nowhere. Day after day I would destroy that awful paper. Burn it. There it sits on my nightstand. Drown it. There it sits on my nightstand. Always that one word. Always the same place. Always It.

It all continued for one month dreams got worse and worse. If I wasn't awake to see It, It came to me in my dreams. The one thing I can remember is the face. When the shadows finally gave way to It's true form, the first things I saw were the eyes. Black, lifeless, soulless. Then It grinned at me. Nothing but sharp teeth. It would reach for me with bony, clawed hands. "Your time is nearing" is what would was always said in a raspy whisper that was more in my head that spoken aloud. Time flies.

August came. Leaves started to fall. Last night It grabbed my ankles, burning them. A word was left lingering in the air as 4:00 rolled around…"Tomorrow". This morning, when I woke up, all of the exits were blocked. I had no way of getting out of my room. I spent the whole day trying to free myself. Nothing worked. Night fell quickly. I did not fall asleep.

Now I guess I am back to the present. Soon I will join the past owners of this house. I see the paper reappear on the small desk beside me. I hear whispers. Run. Run. Run. Something evil is moving behind me. I feel It's cold, awful breath, those soulless, black eyes on my back as I type. It moves closer. I can't think. I can't move. I can't breath. I want to scream, but I can't. It's cold, clawed hands are on my shoulders now, moving painstakingly slow towards my neck. I hear the whispered creams of the others. It is 3:45 a.m. I guess this is the e

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Awwwww poor person. They never got to finish their story.

I am also under the same name (vampire from Lorien) on Fanfiction. net