User:Joehall199796

The closet During my childhood we moved a lot. I've lived everywhere and it’s hard to remember what was what but one house will always stay crystal clear in my mind. When I was about 9 or so we moved into a beautiful ranch house. Open fields for miles around, a big climbing tree in the back, an old rope swing. That house looked like something right out a boys dream, till we actually moved in that is. I had always shared a room with my brother, who was 7 at the time, till now so it was a little hard adjusting to a big empty room to myself. The first week wasn't so bad, then the whispers started. I would lie awake hearing the eerily soft and horse whispers coming from my closet. I couldn't understand it and I didn't want to. Id shake like a rattlesnake under my covers terrified of whatever it was making the whispers. My parents always brushed it off assuming it was just nerves from being alone at night, just like parents do. One day I was in the back yard with my brother and I asked him if he ever heard any whispers. He had no idea what I was talking about. It got worse, a terrible scratching started. Like an animal was desperately trying to get out. Except the more I listened I knew it wasn't scratching on the closet door, but from deeper inside. Cries, thumps and growls came from inside there by 3 weeks. I looked like a skeleton, I couldn't sleep at night and I stopped eating. My mother took me to the doctor very concerned with my well-being and equally dissatisfied when he couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. One night my brother came to me in tears. Recalling how he had had a nightmare about being stalked by a large black creature with hallow black eyes, a large mouth and disgusting disfigured limbs. The creature leaned over him while he was paralyzed with fear in bed and dropped a key onto his chest. He slept with me that night and interestingly not a sound came from the closet. The next morning we went back to his room and there it was, the old gold key from his dream. Lying on his bed atop the cluttered sheets he had left the night before. After knowing about his dream I felt comfortable telling about what had happened during the night. He was surprised I’ve never opened my closet door the whole time we lived here, so…we did. A faint outline of a square under the wallpaper is all I could see so I took the key and cut the paper along the shape and ripped off the paper. A door, with a little key hole. My brother took the key and slowly pushed it in. The second he turned it the little door flew open and dust poured out. My eyes watered and stung, it smelt like something dead had been in there for years. Two red eyes and a painfully white, sharp toothed grin appeared. I screamed as hard as my lungs would let me and was pulled out of the closet by something as I watched my little brother be pulled head first into the hole as the door slammed shut. That was the last time I saw him. No one remembers he existed, and that’s why I am writing this… I remember his name. (By Sabrina dickerman)