Short Horror Stories

Carve it Up

I was living in the house my parents left me after they died, my father died when I was 10 from a car crash involving a drunk driver and my mother died of cancer when I was 20. I'm an only child with no other family and so as you can imagine it was pretty devastating to lose my mother. I just wasn't ready to sell her home, my childhood home, the only home that I've ever known. So I was lived there alone. It was rather big for one person, but the house was paid off and I got by just fine. Until this horrific event that utterly ruined everything. What did I do to deserve this? I keep to myself, mind my own business, and I live a somewhat decent life.

The way the house was situated was pretty perfect of any criminal behavior I suppose because although it wasn't isolated, neighbours a stone throw away on both sides, it was surrounded by very tall trees at the front and backed onto a forest. I always found it to be such a beauty, but I never realized such beauty could also be my sweet escape. I've never had suspicious activity here, not in all my twenty years of living here.

The morning when hell was unleashed was a rather nice cool day. Fall had just begun and my spacious yard was beautifully littered with crisp, brown leaves. The beauty of the morning didn't last however. Someone began to ring the doorbell a excessively early in the morning the day my life began to contort and flip upside down. Those damn solicitors and Jehovah's witnesses can go to hell for all I care. At first I ignored the annoying ringing because I was still grieving and depressed by the passing of my beloved mother, so didn't really care about the outside world. I knew whoever it was would give up at some point and go off and bother the neighbors. The person seemed to leave after 5 or 6 rings and I fell back to sleep.

Then the afternoon came and the doorbell rang again and this time I couldn't ignore it because the man outside could see me through the blurry glass door in my hallway. Why did I have to positioned in such a perfect location? I could have been anywhere else in the house and I just happened to be in one sweet spot where this rugged man could see me. I answered and this homeless looking man with a huge backpack on the ground starts asking me about my home. He looks as if he hadn't shaved in years and the simple word of bath would be a foreign word to him. He was slumped over and twitching quite a bit. I had the door cracked slightly, prepared to slam and lock it shut if necessary. He obviously wasn't part of any company, no professional attire or company car gave me any signals. I wrote him off as an oddball trying to see how easy it would be to rob my house. I politely said I'm not interested and closed the door. He stood there for ages, but eventually left and I brushed it off. I retreated back into my living room, being sure I was positioned in a location that was noticeable through the glass door.

Twenty minutes, later he returned, much more quick and not nearly as sluggish as he was before. Thank God I locked my door because I saw him walk straight up to the door and start trying to open it. My blood turned cold, as I stood in shock for what felt like hours. I somehow mustered up the courage to shout through the glass at him and he looked up from the door handle with a shocked expression and said he knew my mother. I ignored him, raced for the home phone, and called the police straight away after checking all the doors and windows were locked. While on the phone I heard him using what sounded like tools and I can only imagine that he's about to break through the door. Fear began to fill up every inch of me as I noticed my worst nightmare coming true.

My front door shuddered and slightly opened. In a panic, I dropped the home phone, genius on my part, and ran as fast as I could down my garden into the woods. My feet trampled over the crisp leaves and with every loud crunch, I just knew he could hear me and know exactly where I was. Out of breath, I hide behind a rather large tree and peer back over at my house. I don't see him anywhere so I assumed that he was robbing my home and that's all he wanted Slightly relieved, I trek onward to a neighbor's home where I'm able to obtain a phone and again dial 9-1-1.

It wasn't until I got to the police station that I was informed what occurred after I ran out of my home. My heart plummeted to the pit of my stomach as the officers relayed what first responders found.

When the police got to my home, the man was gone but he left a gold mine of fingerprints and evidence. Even better, he was known to the police and was easily picked up the next day hiding in a family campsite. This psychotic bleeder used a long screw like tool to break my door lock, by hammering it through, and once inside he left huge carving knife marks all along the hallway, as-well as muddy hand prints and creepy carved out words on all 4 of the bedroom doors, which were almost all spelled incorrectly. Carvings spat out words such as "bitch" as-well as the phrase "gut you" lined my childhood home. Hearing about it was only half bad, but when I returned home, actually seeing the inhumane marks made me stomach churn.

He also left a large knife stabbed into one of my bedroom doors, fingerprints included. He didn't steal anything as far as I'm aware, but he had actually left a note for me that morning when I hadn't answered my door. I never saw the scribbled note for he had placed it underneath a flower pot. His spelling was atrocious so it was hard to even fully understand what the note said but he proved he knew my full name, age and that I lived alone. His intentions were beyond robbery, much more sinister.

I've never seen him again and since sold my old family home but I still can't bring myself to answer the door to strangers to this day. One day I fear I'll awake in my new home to find his carvings painting my walls.

This was an inspired piece based on an allegedly a true story.