Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-25024956-20140605002312

First and foremost, I am DoubleVC and I am glad to be here. I've lurked here before but haven't actually been here for quite some time due to college. Today, I finally decided to get off my lazy ass and join, after writing a story that could be classified as a creepypasta. Now that my introductions are out of the way, here is my offering, proofread and spellchecked to the best of my abilities.

I Love My Home



I live in an old house. In line with its age, the house was made almost entirely out of hardwood, from the chairs and tables to the ceiling and walls. Built over a century ago by a businessman from the country, the man spared no expense into building this house. He hired dozens of the finest carpenters, both from the city and from his hometown, to create this masterpiece of a home to always remind him of where he came from.



I love it here. During the day, the place would have a rustic feel to it unlike any other. From the garden in the back, to the design, to the very foundations of the house, the place not only looked like the country but felt like it too. Almost like a snapshot of a simpler time, it stood out amidst the grey city as a beautiful piece of history. It was for that reason that I bought this house after all.



As with any house this old, its war with time didn't come without its fair share of battlescars. There was always something loose, something needing fixing, or something whose age had finally caught up with it and was in its death throes. And each one made their own distinct sound in the darkness. Despite my constant attempts to fix these problems, their sounds at night never seemed to stop entirely. With nothing to occupy my mind as I drifted off, I could hear quite clearly every creak, squeak, and moan in the house. After a while, I imagined those sounds as stories the house would try to tell me. The place was old and beautiful, and surely had many stories to tell if only it could, and I would fall asleep to its sounds, imagining its heyday.



Tonight has been unusually noisy, though. The various creaks and moans of the wood and furniture tonight seem oddly consistent. Sometimes, I would hear the exact same sounds in a row. Everything also seemed to repeat after a while. Almost like a pattern. The same pattern over and over again.



There's a soft pop, and another, and another followed by a long creak and another and another. It almost sounds like... Morse.



S-O-M-E-T-H-I-N-G-I-N-R-O-O-M-stop

K-E-E-P-E-Y-E-S-C-L-O-S-E-D-stop  