Creepy horror tales

The Rift

Many children have irrational fears. The dark, monsters in the closet or under beds, hearing strange noises from the attic. These are all examples of the types of fears that we usually dismiss as irrational because they do not have any real reason to be feared and thus we tell our children to ignore their fears and tell them not to trust their senses because sometimes the mind can be deceiving. But what originally inspired these fears? Is it really as simple as a fear of the unknown? If so many children around the world talk of the same experiences and experience the same fears isn’t it a little strange how nobody ever truly encounters the beings that are the source of this fear?

It began 6 years ago in the winter of 2007. I was 19 years of age and lived in the small town known of Langport, Somerset. Like most people my age, I had just finished college and was in search of a university that would allow me to study Mechanical Engineering. My mother had suggested that I should attend a local university and live with her for a few more years to avoid the living expenses and need to travel. But the truth is, living with my two brothers makes it very difficult for me when it comes to studying as the house is always in utter chaos. In all honesty, I could not wait to leave this house and live independently away from all the strife where I could actually study in peace. I had applied for several universities and had been accepted by two. The closest of the two was the university of Bristol which was supposed to be the third best university for mechanical engineering in the country. Of course, I was incredibly happy that I had been accepted into such a high standard university. But I had not yet told my mother of the news in case she took it the wrong way. Maybe she would think that I didn’t love her or need her any more.

I was contemplating how I should break the news to her but I foolishly left my letter of acceptance on the table in the dining room. She had read it before I had even managed to tell her that I was leaving. She called me downstairs from my room where I was studying and I bolted quickly down the stairs to meet her. She stood, letter clutched to her chest with tears rolling down her face. She had took it badly. I braced myself for the onset of guilt that I would feel if she broke down in front of me because I was leaving her. However, no such event occurred. Instead, she wrapped her arms around my shoulders and hugged me tightly. “I’m so proud of you”, she said, tears still rolling down her face as she let me go. Relief washed over me as I realized that she wasn’t upset that I was leaving. She had even offered to drive me with all of my things to my new rented-house in Bristol where I would continue to live for the next few years while I studied at the university. I will never forget how supportive she had been with me, but sometimes I wish she hadn’t. Maybe if she had begged me to go to a local university, I would have stayed.

Maybe it would have been possible to avoid the horrors that I experienced while living there.

My brothers warned me that I would get nervous and would be likely to panic once things became real. I would feel isolated and alone and immediately dread making this decision. However, I did not feel this at all. At least, not until I was outside the front door of my new house. The door was made of some kind of dark, heavy wood which appeared to be rotting at the bottom due to years of rainfall barraging the doorway. The house itself was not much to look at either. The walls were made of old, grey stone and it seemed that my street was the only street without renovated buildings. It may have just been my imagination, but as I stood there and glanced up at the tall structure, it seemed to loom over me. In all honesty, it intimidated me. But I could not complain as the price of rent was cheap. £35 per week wasn’t much to pay in the grand scheme of things. I turned to my mother and explained to her that I had feelings of uncertainty about living away from home. She smiled and brushed my hair away from my eyes as she used to when I was a small child and simply said “You will be fine”. I had always found her soft, grey eyes comforting and her voice was reassuring. I gave her one last hug and she drove off into the distance. I unlocked the door and entered the house.