Horror Stories(Creepypasta)

18☆In The Walls

Another story!

Enjoy~

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We moved out of our last house a week ago, and I'm glad we did.

It was definitely not safe there, especially for a man like me who had a young family to take care of. I think if I hadn't decided to get the hell out of here, I would have failed my family--and I would probably have lost them too, eventually.

There was nothing obviously wrong with the house, actually--I suppose it was just regular detached family home in a suburban neighborhood. I think the first thing that struck me as off about it is the fact that all the houses on that street had been built sometime in the 1980s.

The odd bit about that is the fact that nobody had actually lived there--in almost three and a half decades, nobody had ever lived in that house.

But what could be wrong with that? It didn't ring any alarm bells, apart from the normal sort, like 'does the electricity still work' and 'is the boiler outdated'. On top of that, we had to check if there were any pests or squatters. Nope, nothing there--the house was well built and hadn't let anything in--so it seemed, at least.

Once we were settled in, we were actually very happy there. I think,(although I find it hard to believe no), we wanted the house to be ours for a good, long time. Bizarrely, it just felt so perfect and right when there was actually something deeply, inherently wrong about the place.

The tension began on one typical grey London morning. My wife was going to drop off our four year old boy at school, which usually takes about half an hour. It was the oddest thing--as soon as she shut the door and I was alone, I became aware of a feeling I hadn't felt before.

You could describe it was a feeling of being watched, but I think it was something else--a feeling of tension and discomfort arising from, well--nothing. Nothing at all happened. No creaks, no bumps, and no whispers. I had the heating on(it was December) and was listening to Classic FM on the radio. On first inspection, it appeared to be a comfortable, peaceful environment--ideal for sitting down and getting on with my work.

But it wasn't. I felt sort of agitated. I suppose it was just down to this being a new house that I had only slept in for a few nights. Except I didn't. I couldn't settle down and concentrate. I found myself wandering around the house, walking slowly around every room. There were a few boxes of things that still needed to be unpacked, and some rooms were still quite bare.

I refused to accept it, but a tiny part of my subconscious expected that there was an intruder in the house. I was in the room farthest away from my study, so I could just about hear Bach's Cello Suite or whatever the heck it was playing upstairs. I stayed at the window waiting for my wife to turn up in her car.

It was incredible how quickly the mood shifted as soon as my wife stepped into the house. As soon as I was no longer alone, the uncomfortable feeling lifted and I could actually feel the warmth of the central heating, and my tea with a tablespoon of honey in it actually tasted sweet. Even the rainclouds which had started to drizzle outside seemed friendlier.

The next morning, I did the school run, just a little...experiment. I was driving back when I got a call from my wife. I don't think she wanted anything in particular--apart from some company. Her tone was very casual--it almost sounded forced, and she was only asking when I'll be back, but in a prolonged way, as if she wanted to keep the call as long as possible. I had some idea why she was calling--She was getting the feeling too.