Horror Tales: Edited

The Man With The Red Eye's

Part One
 
I've always been scared of closets. I always sleep with a lock on every closet door in the house. I know what you're thinking, why is a twenty year old man scared of a closet? Well let me tell you why. It all started when I was maybe five or six. My bedroom at the time was a normal kids room at that age, a cool racecar bed, posters of some of my favorite pokemon, which were and still are, Charizard, and Pikachu. Stuffed animals and toys scattered all over my room, from the crazy adventures I had with them that day. My mother wanted my room cleaned before I went to bed, just like every night, I pretended I was asleep,that way I could get out of cleaning, when my mother came into my room she gave me a kiss and closed the door behind her, sending the room into darkness. My intentions were to get up and continue playing, but I actually fell asleep. In the middle of the night I woke up to the sound of a door opening, I thought it was my father coming into my room to tell me goodnight. I looked over at the door and saw noone walk in, I turned the lamp on that sat on a nightstand next to my bed, the closet door was slightly open, I jumped out of bed to close the door. When I reached the door, I noticed two eyes that were glowing bright red. Fear struck over me, the eyes started to move closer to the opened closest door. I slammed the door as hard as I could and ran back to my bed, almost tripping over the stuffed animals and toys that scattered my bedroom.
I hid under my blanket in hopes of the thing with red eyes doesn't find me. I heard the closet door creak open. I peeked from under my blanket, I saw a hand with long sharp finger nails gripping the hinge of the door. At eight feet tall, he stands up as straight as he can, with his head tilted to the side, to avoid hitting the ceiling. I remember his piercing red eyes and his mouth gapping open, exposing his long sharp teeth. He has no hair, no nose and his left arm is longer than the right. He wears a black trench coat. His skin is white, as if it has never seen the light of day. He stands in front of the open closet, he glances the room over, until his eyes meet mine. He slowly limps towards the foot of my bed.

I throw my blanket back over my head, in an attempt to hide. I see the shadow of his long fingernails moving slowly towards my blanket. I screamed as loud as I could for my father. I hear my bedroom door swing open, causing a bookshelf that sits be hide the door to lose a few of the toys I placed on the shelves. "Andrew!" my mother screams in fear "who the hell are you!?" my father screams in anger. I peeked from my blanket just in time to see the man with red eyes stand straight up, he is standing next to my bed still. His eyes dart to the door and his smile grew bigger. My father runs at the man and throws a fist into the mans gut. The man laughs it off, as if my father's punch was absolutely nothing.
He throws another fist, but the man catches it and bends his wrist backwards, snapping it like a twig. My father screams in pain as he falls to the ground. The man stands over my father and starts to laugh again, my father climbs to his knees. He looks up at the man and spits in his face, "laugh at that" he says and ducks down revealing my mother standing at the doorway holding a shotgun. She shoots the man in the gut, causing him to stumble backwards and crashing into my bedroom window. The window shatters and the man falls to the ground at the foot of my bed. My mother puts the gun on the floor, "come here Andrew" she says holding her hands out to me. I look over to my father, who is standing over the man. I remove the blankets off of me and put both feet on the floor. "Run!" I hear my father scream, I look back at him and see the man with red eyes standing and looking down at my father, he  grabs my father by the neck with one hand. He lifts him up until he is eye level with the man. My father is throwing as many punches with his good arm and kicking as much as he can. He squeezes my fathers neck hard enough that the pressure pops his head clean off. His head hits the ceiling while his body falls limp to the floor, gushing blood. I stand at the side of my bed frozen in fear, my mother screams in horror, I look over to her and see her yelling for me to come to her, I cant hear her though. I see her mouth moving, but I hear no words. She runs to my bed and cradles me in her arms. 

She carries me down the hallway, with the man right on our heels. She runs into the master bedroom and shuts the door, locking it before the man could push it open. I hide under the bed in fear, my mother looks around desperately go find some type of weapon until she settles for a shower rod. My mother climbs under the bed with me, we watch in horror, as the man bangs on the door continuously with each blow getting harder. The door flys off the hinges sending trimb all over the floor. He limps over towards the bathroom door and peaks in, he walks towards the bed, I look over at my mother, she has the shower rod in one hand and using her free hand she puts a finger to her lips to tell me to keep me silent. The man is standing at the foot of the bed, he bends down to his hands and knees and looks under the bed. My mother and I scream, he grabs my mother by the hair and pulls her out from under the bed throwing her against a wall, he grabs me by the ankle, as I was trying to climb out from under the bed as quickly as I could. He pulls me from under the bed and heads for the bedroom door, before he could get me in the hallway, my mother steps in front of him, she has a bloody nose and blood in the corner of her lip from hitting the wall face first, she hits him in the face with the shower rod. He let's go of my ankle and grabs my mother by the neck. He walks down the hallway with my mother kicking and hitting him with the shower rod. I run into the hallway after them yelling for my mother, "please let her go!" I scream as the man walks back into my bedroom. I find the shotgun on the ground, I try to lift the barrel up. The man lifts my mother in the air with one hand and jams a finger from the free hand into her mouth and down her throat, she starts choking, blood starts to pour out of her nose and mouth. The man rips his finger out of her mouth and throws her against the wall.
 
My mother falls to the ground motionless, I drop the gun "mom!" I scream, tears pouring down my cheeks. The man walks back into the closet and reappears with a large brown sack that resembles Santa's toy bag. He grabs my fathers lifeless body and shoves it into the bag, he grabs my fathers head and tosses it in as well. He walks over to my mother, "please don't take my mommy!" I scream as he lifts her off the ground and throws her into the sack as well. He ties the sack closed and drags it behind him as he walks towards the closet door. I run to the hallway and down the stairs, I fumble with the locks on the door and run out into the cold night air. I scream for help in the middle of the road until my neighbors run out of their houses. The cops came minutes later asking where my parents were, I told them to follow me and took them to my bedroom, my fathers blood covering the walls, my toys that scattered the floor and my bed. I point over to the closet door, which is now shut. The officers try to open the door, but its locked from the inside, as the officers were trying to open the door, we notice blood starts to seep from the bottom of the door. The police escort me out of my house and into a police cruiser. I was taken to live with my grandmother until I graduated high school.

Today I can't leave a closet door open at night. I fear that he might come back for me and finish the job.

To Be Continued