Horror Stories(Creepypasta)

33☆Those eyes

I know, same title, but it's different:D

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There was this one time when I was younger-about five or six years old, when we had moved into a new house. It was just me and my mother most of the time since my father worked long hours during the evening into the early morning.

We had been in the house no longer than two or three weeks and the school year was coming to a close. Only now had my parents explained to me what had happened in that house many years ago.

The truth of what happened on that day did not set me free of my curiosity, but rather fuelled a string of nightmares I can't seem to shake.

Maybe sharing it with you will help.

It was a warm summer evening early in the week when I got home from school. My parents trusted me to walk as the neighbourhood was a quiet area and the school was only a few blocks away.

As usual my dad was leaving for work as I got home so we had our normal chit-chat about my day and if anything interesting had happened at school. Nothing had happened at school, at least that was worth noting to my dad who seemed to be in a hurry.

My mom was in the kitchen getting my plate ready for dinner. We ate early since my dad had to leave for work at such a strange time but I had gotten used to it over the years.

As we sat together, I ate dinner while my mom watched one of her soap operas that I didn't necessarily hate, but didn't exactly love either. There were no other plans on the horizon as all my friends (all two of them) were busy with their own lives; this meant a lonely night of homework & video games, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

I remember sitting beside my mom just after finishing my plate and looking up at her. She was engrossed in her show until she gave a sharp look toward the kitchen. Her face curled up with confusion and curiosity, so she got up to walk toward the kitchen to investigate.

The light from the kitchen spilled into the now dark living room lit only by the sharp yellow light of the kitchen and the flicker of the television. I had seen what she saw as well, but to me it seemed like a slight disturbance in the light.

After investigating the kitchen she returned and shrugged it off as if it were nothing. To me it was nothing, so we continued watching television until my mom asked me to go finish my homework.

As I walked down the hallway toward the staircase up to my room I could feel a cold chill in the doorway where my mom had gazed earlier. It gave me chills but nothing like when I got to the bottom of the stairs.

There was something about the stairs in this house that made me feel unsettled. The basement was fine, the basement stairs were fine-hell, the crawl space in the basement had more life and character to it than the staircase that led to the upstairs. I absolutely despised having to climb up and down its dark wooden steps, especially late into the night.

It wasn't that I was afraid of the dark, or monsters or really anything of the sort; I can't really explain it. It felt like the stairs were watching me, so I would run up and down them as fast as humanly possible.

You know that feeling you get when you're being chased & it feels like whatever is chasing you could grab your ankles at any moment & tear you down? Yeah, that feeling.

Once I got to my bedroom, I was safe as if whatever dark entity that constantly chased me up the stairs was not allowed into my room. It was a safe haven from whatever lived in or on the staircase which is why I spent most of my weeks in that house in my room or out with my friends.