HORROR DIARY: CreepyPasta

CreepyPasta #2: WHAT WAS LEFT BEHIND (Part 5)

The night was cool and quiet.

I was full of anxiety; my stomach was in a knot, however I couldn't tell if this was because I was hungry or because there was something out there coming for us.

We sat in the dark occasionally shivering.
I could see Jason's profile looking blankly at the far wall.
All was quiet.
The house moved gently with the breeze penetrating its every pore. We felt its chill especially because of the open window.
It was still.

We could hear the faint dripping become louder as the wind receded. There was dampness to the air now and a dank smell surrounded us.

Jason bumped my shoulder to ask me if I could smell it too. I nodded.
Similar to the night before scratching could be heard below.
Now that we were upstairs I wasn't as concerned that probing hands were going to slip up through the gaps in the floorboards and grasp at us.

I now presumed to know what or who that was down there, and that was so much worse.

The hair on my neck stood on end as I broke into cold perspiration.
My heart thumped heavily in my chest and I could feel an echo of that throbbing in my temple.
I scrunched my eyes closed as it to use it as a barrier between it and us.
The scraping continued downstairs, moving around, searching. It circled and repeated itself many times, sometimes pushing on a board from below, which added an extra low creaking groan into the house.
She was tenacious.

Faint steps could be heard outside on the dirt rounding the house to the northwestern side. It was the same direction of the shed.

We held our breath.
We could hear the high singing of the sheds door as it was opened.
I was so very glad we were not there this time, the shed door was very heavy and whoever was below moved it as if it was nothing.
The hunt for us begun in the last place we'd been seen. I wondered if our pursuer cared we took his tools, but really it wasn't as if he seemed to use them anyway.
Besides here's no way it could be worse than what we were already in for.
We braced.

It started in the distance, a low rattle that became louder and punctuated with metallic clanging. There was a tearing of what sounded like wood and then a series of snapping.

A cacophony groaned louder in the distance and then thudded in a short cascade.
The shed, we assumed, was being torn down.
We could hear what we could best describe as huffing, as heavy guttural breathing replaced the sounds of destruction of the fallen shed.

It squealed sharply, undulated by a deep-throated roar. I couldn't fathom what could make such a noise. A noise that rumbled with it's own power shaking the very foundations of the house.

The scraping below the floorboards had stopped now.
I wonder sometimes if she was as scared of him as we were.
His howl trailed onward, fading in and out.
I balled myself up and leant with more force against the shutters.
He was moving at this stage and I started to whimper.

When his pounding feet landed on the porch, he burst through the back door and became what I perceived to be a freight train rushing straight at us.

We could hear a smashing of hardwood against a wall below.
The floorboards quivered with reverberation.
Jason uttered his favorite word behind gritted teeth many times.
The wailing was guttural now, interrupted by snorting and snuffling.
We could feel the house shift as if twisting slightly.
I had the image of some animal attempting to pick up a scent.
I'm not sure, but I think it could smell us.

Holding my breath, I pretended this would help as I anticipated with its next move it would be right on top of us.

We didn't need to wait long.
Thunderous stomping charged up the stairs and slammed into the bedroom door.
The force jolted us forward a little and I cried out.
Howling perforated my eardrum. I could have been next to police siren and it would have hurt less.