Short Horror Stories

Untitled Part 5

I want get out of here... No... I need to get out of here. I can't deal with this shit. Hell I can't deal with anything right now! I can't deal with the stress. The fear. The paranoia. The deaths.... Why? Why are only people I know getting murdered? Mom, dad, Jason, Felicia, Trevor.... I don't really know any other people. Am I next? Oh god... I can't stand this. Every time I enter a room, I look out the window. Every time I'm walking home from work, I look over my shoulder. Every time I unlock the door to my shabby apartment, I look towards the road. And every time... Every FUCKING time... I see IT.

Before everyone died, they all said they saw IT. They all said how IT was following them. And guess what? A month later!... And they were gone. I just don't know what to do... what can someone do when something like... that... is following them? Cause I sure as hell would like to know...

Let me explain what that creature from hell looks like. It's about the height of a nine or ten year old, and is really stocky. It's legs are proportional for something of its height, but they're always slightly bended at the knee, and the thing is slouching. But its arms... those are quite terrifying. His shoulders are raised as high as they can go, but they're still so long that they drag across the ground. And as they drag, his nails... just... they could make a full grown man shudder. They were about five inches long. When his arm dragged across the ground, so did his nails. And as they scrapped against the ground, they got sharper. And sharper. And to make it worse, they looked as if they were coated in the crimson liquid that is blood. It's skin though... It's skin was purely revolting. It looked as if the entire body was cover in third degree burns. As if you could touch it and it would turn to ash. But I doubt anyone would dare to touch that thing. Not with those nails. Oh and his eyes were another disgusting sight... creamy, light beige puss oozed out of his pure midnight black eye sockets. And his mouth could make any person in the world cringe. It looked similar to when a child plays with putty. Just a frown sunken into the face. Not a real mouth. Just an indentation.

So anyways. Now that you know what it looks like, imagine seeing that. Every time you turn around. Every. Damn. Time.

I started seeing it soon after my boyfriend, Jason, died. At first it always stayed across the street, on top of one of the buildings. So you know, around 25 feet away. And I only saw it when I went to work! ... But then it started following me home. It always stayed across the street. I was never aware whether or not to be relieved it stayed across the street. Or scared it was there at all. I was kind of relieved AND scared. But then it started getting closer. And then the fear and paranoia overwhelmed me. It flooded all my senses.

The people at work noticed my change in behavior. How couldn't they? Every time one of them tapped my shoulder while I was lost in thought to see if I wanted to get lunch with them, I practically jumped out of my skin. And I knew they couldn't see it. Because after a week or two of it getting closer... it was at the window to my office. My window is behind me, so if other people could see it, then my clients would've noticed it for sure. For a while, it only went to the window at work. But slowly it started going closer to my bedroom window. And at that moment, I wished the others were still alive. Because then I could move in with them and pray that it would stay away for a bit. But it already got to them. I was alone. Alone with this horrible creature. And who fucking knew what it would do to me.

Eventually I stopped going outside. Remember how I said it was following me in the streets? Well it started staying around 5 feet behind me. Fuck that. I locked the doors and barricaded it. I don't care if it's a fire hazard.

But eventually my stock of food ran out. So I unblocked the door and swung it open.

And if I had to choose the biggest mistake in my life, it would be that moment.

Right behind the door, was it.

You have no idea of the paralyzing fear that struck me as I stared into the deep, dark, depressing pits of its "eyes."

I rushed to my bedroom and shoved the dresser in front of the door. I knew it wouldn't hold for long. I grabbed the gun out of the door. Five bullets. That's all I would need right?

Wrong. I shot four damn bullets. It didn't work. One bullet left. One option left. So I did that option. I shot myself.

And as the bullet went through my head, the last thing I saw was the indentation on its face. It was shaped in a smile.