A Series of Short Horror Stories

Steps

     ((Note: I put this story on reddit a while back under the username WizenedPoptropica and it got read aloud by the youtuber Slumber Reads. If you came across Either of those I give my word as an ex girl guide that this isnt plagerized lol))

     The sound of my mother's even but heavy steps above me echoed down the stairs and under my door. It was late at night and I'd been unable to sleep, too many thoughts in my head. My mother was probably in the same boat.

     I stared at my phone, turning down the brightness in case it was visible from under my door. I evened out my breathing and set myself in a more comfortable position in bed so I wouldn't shift and make the frame creak. Still looking at the images on my screen, I tuned into the even and heavy steps above, trying to figure out if they would lead her downstairs.

     The steps of my mother continued through the upstairs hallways and slowed for a second in what was probably the kitchen. There was a soft sound of the fridge opening, leftovers being moved, and the much softer closing of the door. My mother seemed to shuffle her way through the kitchen, into the dining room, and to the living room. For a good long while, all was quiet. I had concluded my mother wouldn't go down to the basement, and I figured I could go back to scrolling aimlessly through my feed without fear of being caught awake. The silence of the house was comforting, and I couldn't even make out the sound of another person existing upstairs. After about five minutes however, the steps resumed. There was something about the movement though, that shook me out of my social media haze.

     You know you're family when you can identify someone, simply from the sound of their footsteps throughout the house. The familiar heavy and sure footsteps of your father, making his way through the house at night, trying not to disturb his family. The recognizable light, peppy step of your sister as she runs down the stairs to taunt you in the good-natured way siblings do. The heavy, even steps of your mother, as she makes her way down the stairs to the basement where you sleep and the office where she grades papers. The steps that resonated through the house as they lifted themselves off the couch and back into the kitchen, were light and peppy, like my sister's.

     The steps that I recognized as my sister, went through all the movements she (?) had gone through previously. Her light steps went through the hallway entrance to the kitchen, the soft sound of the fridge being pulled open and the leftovers being rifled through sounded through the house, and her steps made their way back through the dining room, and into the living room. Once again, afraid of being caught awake, I pulled my covers closer and turned down my brightness. The lighter steps paused in the living room, standing just above the stairs that would lead to the basement, and made their way down. I stiffened.

     When they reached the bottom of the stairs, the heavy... and even footsteps of my mother made their way over to the office and the bar, further away from my room, and I loosened again. The steps of... my mother made their way past the office, and to the bar. The sound of my mother's shuffling footsteps and the sound of bottles and cans being moved aside rang past the office and through the thin walls of my room, before the steps made their way back into the office, closer to me, and began to pace.

     The light... even steps... moved in circles around the office, pausing occasionally to drink, though I couldn't make out the sound of liquid moving or a person gulping. My little sister wasn't old enough to drink. I realized I'd been all tensed up, holding my covers up to my chin and staring at the door as opposed to my phone, trying to make out if they'd turned on a light in one of the outside rooms. I took a slow, shallow breath, making as little noise as possible as I tried to relax my muscles. The steps paused in the middle of a pace, and once again, all was silent.

     I held my breath, waiting for the steps to go somewhere, maybe back upstairs to the living room or one of the computer desks, but the house remained silent as ever. I strained my eyes, looking over my phone screen that had long since gone into sleep mode, to see if a light had been turned on, or if one of the office computers was being used. Everything was dark and quiet.

     For what felt like an hour, it was probably less than ten minutes, I laid there, breathing slowly and waiting for my mother to make her way back to bed after this late-night drinking session. Eventually, the heavy sure steps resumed, and made their way through the office, before taking a turn, and lightly, as if to not wake the family, made their way to the laundry room just beside my door. I held my breath.

     The heavy and sure steps were louder, now much closer than before but also much heavier like my father's. My... father made his way through the laundry room, going around the bend and back away from my room to the bar. Like earlier, he began to look through the bottle and cans lining the shelves of the bar. The shuffling of bottles and cans was also louder, and was punctuated by a light turning on.

     The new yellow light streamed from under my door and I flinched at the sudden change. I realized I hadn't blinked in a good long while. I pulled my blanket closer and ignored the dryness in my eyes in favour of continuing to stare at my door. The sound of bottles and cans stopped suddenly, though the light stayed on, as my father's footsteps made his way through the office, and towards my room.

     The footsteps slowed, and lightened, almost bouncing through the office towards my room, before slowing again, and continuing at a much more even pace. The heavy steps stopped directly in front of my door, their shadow blocking out two streams of light from getting in, and didn't move.

     They stayed there for what felt like hours, creating a uniform shadow that seemed to barely sway. The whole time, I kept my muscles taught, squinting my eyes to avoid blinking and all the while reprimanding myself for not already being asleep. The shadow remained stationary.

     After an eternity, the shadow finally moved. The heavy and even steps of my mother turned once, looking at my sister's room across the hall, before her light steps made their way back upstairs, through the living room, through the dining room, through the kitchen, and back to the parent's bedroom. I heard a door open, but not close.

     I couldn't manage to sleep that night, and this has... sorta become a recurring thing. In fact, just last night, my sister touched and turned the doorknob to my room.