The Backhouse

The Backhouse

It all started around my childhood around the age of three or four. I adored the outside. Then again most kids did. Most kids had a normal childhood. Mine was quite the opposite. While I wasn’t venturing around or getting into trouble I always liked to explore the backhouse. The backhouse was basic. A garage mixed with an upstairs mainly used for storage and other junk we threw back there. I always liked to rummage through it and see what treasures I could find.

 Sometimes I would pretend that I was a king in a castle. However there was always one door I neglected. Maybe it was the odor behind it, or the way the door was broken as if something…unhuman had destroyed it. Nevertheless I ignored it. Until that day. That horrible day when I first heard it. The moaning. Or was it crying? Whatever it was I heard it and it scared me.

Fear and curiosity combined in my head and I started to walk towards it. Every step I took the crying got louder and more intense. I backed away from the door. Turned and ran. I only stopped once to look back and I saw something that looked a lot like blood dripping under the door. I burst through the door and ran upstairs and cried. I remember getting tucked into bed that night with the fear that something would know I was up there and try to get me as I slept. I let my mind wander as I fell asleep.

Big mistake. I woke up in a cold sweat with blood running down my arm. It was strange because I felt no pain. It wasn’t my blood. I looked up at my mirror and saw these words printed in blood. “Those who come in…never come back.” I quickly ran out of bed and into my parents room where I told them everything. The blood, the crying, the moaning, everything. My parents assured me that everything is alright and that I probably had a nightmare.

So I stayed there for an hour until my dad finally they had enough of my nonsense. They told me to get a glass of water and they would tuck me in again. I ran downstairs, got the water and came back up. My parents kissed me goodnight and they started to shut the door. My dad re-opened it and whispered. “Those who come in…never come back.” And blood began running down the walls.