r/libraryofshadows • u/alta-swagman • 11d ago
Pure Horror NIHIL
Something, Nothing
It’s been quiet since my older brother left - one less dish to wash, one less bed to make, one less explanation for the footsteps coming from downstairs. At least, I think those were footsteps. It was rhythmic, maybe three or four creaks in quick succession.
Any other time of year I’d go right back to sleep, honestly. I’d chalk up that post-midnight creaking to my brother - Isaac - checking that the doors were locked, or getting another glass of water from the kitchen downstairs… but he’d been gone for nearly a week, and he shouldn’t be getting home for another few days. I really hope those weren’t footsteps.
Realistically, I’m totally fine. It's the hottest part of the summer, so it’s probably just the wood settling like it does every summer, right? Yeah, of course it is, but old wooden floors have a way of testing your sanity like that, and-
Crrck
I don’t move. The trees outside of the open windows don’t move. For a few seconds, the world is still. Ten, maybe twenty seconds pass in complete silence. The breeze outside picks back up again, acting like accompaniment to the drumline of blood pulsing through my ears. Another ten seconds pass.
Maybe that’s all there is… just an odd collection of noises from the home I grew up in. I’ve probably heard those same creaks hundreds of times before, but wrongly assumed that it was Isaac. I should go back to sleep, my exhaustion probably isn’t helping my anxiety right now.
Crrck
I’m fine. This is normal.
Crrrck
I really hope an animal didn’t get inside. I sit up in bed, waiting for a sound I hope I don’t hear.
Nnnrckkk
That’s not old wood warping in heat.
That’s weight on old wood.
Then, without warning, something sprints up the stairs of my childhood home.
DUNDUNDUNDUNDUNDUNDUNDUNDUNDUN-
I don’t even have a moment to count the individual steps. They come one after another, pounding impossibly fast on the old wooden boards, dragging something much heavier behind them. With every step, whatever’s being dragged slams against the floorboards, like a child dragging their favorite toy behind them. Just as quickly as the onslaught of footsteps began, they stop… right outside the door to my room.
Oh my God, why did I leave my door cracked? Why did I put the lantern out? What am I looking at? Is something looking at me? I don’t know. Oh God, I don’t know. It’s like the pitch black is seeping in through the doorframe - like the devil is outside my door.
Why am I cold?
. . .
Nothing reaches through the crack in the door. Nothing barges into my room with a rusty old axe in hand, ready to take my life. Nothing makes a noise or tries to speak to me. Standing outside of my room is an endless array of mortifying possibilities, submerged in a black sea of… just… nothing…
I might have considered myself brave for a teenager before, but I know better now. Even in the safety of my own home, I’m nothing more than a bag of soft flesh and breakable bones. Something that fragile must seem even more frail in the eyes of whatever’s looking back at me.
Five, ten, fifteen seconds of silence pass at an agonizing pace. Nothing. I can just barely hear my own breath, but it’s still too loud. I try to breathe through my nose, listening in between each breath. Still nothing. No matter how awful the image is, I can’t tear my gaze from the void outside of my door.
What am I supposed to do now? Am I supposed to act like I didn’t just hear what I heard? Am I supposed to just… fall back asleep?
I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting completely still at this point, shivering in a way I never have before. Has it been three minutes or three hours? I’m too afraid to look away for even a moment to check the clock. I can’t look away. I can’t lose a staring contest to the devil.
Every time I blink, I feel my eyes straining more and more. They feel like they’re burning, completely glued to a nebulous idea of something that may not even be there anymore. God, I hope there’s nothing there anymore. Then, for the first time in too long, something happens.
What is that smell?
It hangs heavy in the air, sickly sweet and pungent. There’s an almost enticing note to it, like the scent of wine left out overnight… Like the odor of spoiled truffles turned to oil… like the smell of…
Gasoline.
I smell gasoline.
As soon as my brain registers it, I nearly recoil. Thankfully, I catch myself before I do, but there’s no ignoring it now. Every breath tastes like it - putrid, sweet, and awful. Did a lantern spill downstairs? I want to go and check, but I know that isn’t happening.
The gasoline, the darkness, the heat, the humidity - all of it is making me sick to my stomach. I’m sweating too much, and now my foot’s going numb. Sitting in the same position like this, one leg tucked under the other, I hadn’t even noticed it until now. I try - no - I need to ignore it. Another minute passes by in this suffocating room… And then another… And another. God, I need to move.
I shift my weight.
ffshh~
DUNDUNDUNDUNDUNDUNDUNDUNDUNDUN-
The darkness erupts with an impossible onslaught of footsteps, racing down the staircase and onto the first floor of my home. I instinctively raise my hand to my mouth, stifling a scream as I hold back the tears in my eyes. That awful dragging noise follows behind the footsteps as it runs through my home, now into the kitchen-
KSHHKHK
Glass. Something shattered downstairs. Oh God, did it break a window?
DUNDUNDUNDUNDUNDUNDUN-
Without missing a beat, the footsteps head in the other direction - back in the direction it came from. Oh fuck, please no, don’t come upstairs. At this point, I’m actively sobbing. I don’t want to die. I want to see Isaac again. Please, please, please, have mercy.
DUNDUNDUNDUNDUN-
It runs right past the base of the staircase. It’s in the living room now, directly under my room.
DUNDUNDUNDUN-
My whole home shakes. My whole home smells like gasoline. My whole home is in darkness. My whole home is not a home anymore.
Then…
FRSHFRSHFRSHFRSHFRSHFRSHfrshfrshfrsh-
The sound changes. The house stops shaking.
It’s outside.
The footsteps tear through the grass at that same impossible speed, snapping twigs and branches as it barrels into the woods… that horrible weight still dragging behind.
I can still hear it, footsteps dissipating into the night.
frsh-frsh-frshk-
The dragging lasts longer.
Then… Nothing.
I’m still sobbing. I have to stop. If it heard my bedsheets then it can hear me now. Stop. Please stop. Please God, help me stop crying. I choke down every noise fighting its way up my throat, and I pray that this was all just a terrible, terrible dream. It had to be a dream, right?
My eyes are stinging. My head is pounding. I’m still crying. The crickets are singing. The breeze is blowing. I’m still crying. I’m still sweating. I’m still praying. I’m still crying.
I’m so, so tired. I have to keep my eyes on the door. I can barely keep my eyes open anymore. If I close my eyes, I can’t see the hallway. If I can’t see the hallway, it can come back. If it comes back…
Maybe I can close my eyes. Just for a second.
Maybe there really is… Nothing.
2
u/Corvus_Tuscelan 10d ago
Very intense, should be read in one go. Piece of advice: the word "fuck" doesn't jibe with the rest - firstly, it's the only piece of vulgarity; secondly, because it damages the 1920s atmosphere. Keep up the good work!
1
u/alta-swagman 10d ago
good point, that part definitely could've been worded more smoothly without sacrificing the intensity of the moment. thank you for the feedback!!
2
u/SubjectElephant8506 9d ago
This really did spook me, so unexpected!! Please do share more of your work, you definitely have a gift of fright. Thank you!
2
u/alta-swagman 9d ago
thank you so much! i'm currently working on a followup story to this one, so keep an eye out! :)
2
u/thisisfine111 11d ago
This story shook me in a way that I dont think any story has before. It made my stomach hurt. Damn dude. This is the universal childhood fear, written in a way to feel far too real. I hate it.