The thing follows me up. If I turn around no one will be there because I always check, but I can still hear it. The doubled footsteps as I ascend the stairs. Although, never down the stairs. The only time it goes down is when no one is on the steps. Why doesn't it follow me down? Why only these steps? The basement steps. I think it lives there. In the basement. Because it always stops when I reach the top step. It wants to stay hidden no doubt. I really don't care what it thinks though. Over thinking leads to terrible thoughts, and I want to sleep tonight but that wouldn't change anything because every day and every night I hear it. Even when I'm not on the stairs, it still walks up and stops, then back down. Sometimes it bangs the door and moans. When it moans, I know that it is going to fall. It always does. The fall is loud enough for me to hear the sickening sound of his neck bones crack. He should die but he still continues to torment me with his nightly routines.
A few days have past and it's been the same as always in the house. I've gone to see a therapist, a doctor, and I've called for a paranormal professional. They all said nothing was wrong with me or my house. I don't know what do to do. It has been driving me crazy for 6 months now.
6 MONTHS LATER
Today I'm moving out. Me, my best friend Carla, mom, and little brother are cleaning out my house. Including the basement. These past few months I haven't been going downstairs and the banging and moaning has become less frequent. We started upstairs and worked our way down to the basement. I walk down and see that everyone has already started. I turn on the radio and it plays Luke Bryan. I grab a few boxes and step on the first step. Breath. The next step. Strange, I don't hear anything. I don't hear anything. The sound that has been following me for the past year, it's owner never seeming to be there, is finally gone. I only hear my feet. This is great. I exhale a sigh of relief. I begin to think about the good things that have happened this year as we clear the boxes. I'm moving to an apartment, I've got new car and a boyfriend. I got a job at target and it pays good, but the best thing is, the footsteps are gone. I can have my sanity back.
As the boxes lessen so does my family and Carla. They leave me with the last box. What am I going to do now that I can get some sleep? I think as I step on the first step. Maybe I will go on a vacation with my boyfriend. I step on the next step. I wonder how he is about the oce- I hear it. The doubled footsteps as I ascend the stairs. I pause. I can hear it's breath, I've never heard it breath before. I dot dare look behind me. I don't want to see it. I hear it whisper "I I'm giving you to the count of three to get up those stairs. I know you're leaving, but I don't want you to. One..." I run up the stairs as fast assembly possible. "Two." I trip ov ove my foot. Damn. I keep nning. I'm almost to the top. I can see the light of the kitchen. Two more steps "Three." I look down. I'm on the very last step, but it's too late. He said three and I didn't make it. I feel his cold hand on my shoulder and his harsh breath on my neck. Before he pulls me down I whisper. Andy.
