When I was young, I used to hang out with my imaginary friend Violet in the crawl space under my house. When my parents asked where I had been that day, I would tell them "I was in my favorite place with Violet." When they had asked me where that was, I would say "It's a secret" in a very hushed tone. See, I wasn't supposed to be in the crawl space, my parents had told me that when we first moved in when I was three. I was seven when this happened.
Now that I reflect on my childhood, I don't believe Violet was actually imaginary, but she wasn't alive either. She had told me that her mum had killed her when she was ten years old, in my very house. She had beautiful old gold hair that she would always wear in two braids, and tied them with cobalt blue ribbons that matched her eyes. She wore a white sun dress, and brown fur boots. She would always put her kitchen knife in the right boot, said she pulled it right out of her own head. I only saw the cut once, it was about three inches long and hidden among her pretty hair. You could see bone and brain tissue.
Back on topic, we went into the crawl space, Violet going ahead of me so I would be safe. We crawled for about ten minutes before jumping out into the fairly large room. We had brought some of our favorite toys down there, along with anything else we might need. Usually, I felt secure in the room, but now I felt really... uneasy. Violet felt it as well, and she obviously showed it by poking around the room, looking to see if it was safe. I shrugged it off and grabbed a small jar of green paint, making little pictures on the wall of willow trees and happy little stick figures. Eventually, Violet gave up on her search and grabbed a jar of blue paint, smearing it above her head.
Violet reached behind her to grab a jar of paint, but grasped at thin air. When she turned to see why she couldn't get the jar, she gasped and dropped the blue one on the floor, spattering paint on the walls. I turned to see what the problem was, and I was shocked to see a purple triangle painted on the wall behind us with spirals coming off each arm (I know now that is was a symbol called a Triskele) A growl ripped through the air and Violet immediately grabbed her knife in her right hand and rushed and grabbed small seven-year-old me in her left and carried me towards the exit, shoving me into the tunnel. I crawled like a mole, going faster than ever, fueled by fear. When I reached the garden, I collapsed for a moment before turning around to grab Violet and pull her out.
As her fingers touched mine, I watched as a shadowy tendril wrapped itself around her waist and dragged her back into the tunnel. With a screech, I stupidly dove in after her. She was able to stab her knife in the ground long enough for me to grab her outstretched hand and pull her free. We stumbled backwards, and she only momentarily reached back in to grab her knife. I got a good look at the creature; it had a canine body, but was more human like with a human face. the eyes were hollow, and its mouth was just a gaping hole. Its skin was black and leather like, and it had shadowy tendrils coming off its back and sides. It reached forward with clawed hands, but before it could escape Violet slammed the doors shut and placed her knife in the handles as a temporary lock.
That night, Violet and I vowed to never enter the room again. She held me all night, ready and willing to jump at a moment's notice into the battle. The worst part is, even now as I sit in my room typing this, I know it's hiding. Waiting for its chance to escape. We've put a padlock and chains on the door, securely locking it. But, you see, the room is right below my own. Some nights, I can hear it. Moaning and growling below my floor boards. Violet appears on those nights, laying in bed with me and readying her knife for the kill. I'm so glad I have Violet. I hope you have someone to protect you while you sleep, too.