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I'm not scared. I'm not scared of the dark. I'm not scared of the things in it, and I'm definitely not scared of the wheezing that bubbles and gurgles just up the stairs to my left. It sounds so loud from here where I sit, in front of my laptop just about forty feet away. Even with my headphones in, I can hear it, though my headphones aren't that good anyway. The sound makes me shake, my hands tremble as I type. I keep wondering what is happening up there, but I can't find it in me to move from my spot. So I just sit here and type like there is nothing there. I wonder, if I'm not scared, why can't I just go check on him? He's right up the stairs, only forty feet to my left.
I'll start from the beginning and if I have time, you may come to understand my situation. My evening started when my mother announced she was going into town with my father, which would leave me home with the three foster kids. Because this may be the only record of what happened, I will list their names if no body is recovered. The youngest is a two month old baby, Brandon. The second is a nine month old, O.N.E. The last is a two year old toddler, Paul. The two older kids went to bed at seven thirty which left just me and the baby. My instructions were to watch the baby until ten before putting him to bed.
I was also supposed to give him a bottle and change him before placing him in bed, which was placed in the hallway near the kitchen where I could hear him if anything went wrong. He is usually a good sleeper who falls asleep within ten minutes of being placed down for the night, but he has some medical complications that sometimes obstruct his breathing if the right pressure is assumed. On the other hand, the two older ones are usually up until late into the night before they fall asleep, giving them the minimal amount of sleep when their internal clocks wake them up about seven thirty or eight in the morning.
After changing a wet diaper, I was prepared to put the little guy down for the night. But as I turned out of the laundry room where the changing table resided, I got a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. Standing right outside the laundry room, I could look right up the stairs to the hallway if I rotated just ninety degrees left. I only stood there with the stairs staring at my left side; the baby held to my chest carefully. I almost didn't want to turn and look, but rational thinking overcame me. It had been only me and the kids at home when my parents had left. It was only me being paranoid because of all the scary stories I had listened to earlier. Rolling my eyes, I headed up the stairs with the utmost confidence, but every step I took into the dark, it made my stomach twisted even more. Pausing at the top of the small flight of stairs, I was staring into the darkness of the hall. Slowly, I flicked on the lights. That's when I first knew something was wrong. The lights had hesitated as if lapsed and it took a second for the light to turn on. I'll say this, we have never had any trouble with the wiring in my house and just to be sure I flicked the lights off and on just a few more times.
This time, there was no hesitation. It was like the house was giving something a chance to escape before the light exposed it to my eyes. I was cautious as I laid the baby in its bed watching the corners of my vision for any shadows or movement, but of course, there was nothing. As soon as I laid him down, he smiled at me which instinctively brought a smile to my face as for a second I forgot about the weirdness. I tickled him for a minute or two just to get the satisfaction of his goofy toothless smile just a few times to calm myself down. But then I looked at his eyes. At first, I thought nothing of it. Brandon had a problem controlling the muscles in his eyes which made his eyes drift off every now and then, so the fact he wasn't looking at me wasn't it. It was that his eyes were fixed in one spot near the end of the short hallway. The corner exactly where my parents room was. I turned, but was greeted with the sight of my parent's closed bedroom door.
Worried, I looked back at the baby. His eyes had shifted so that he stared at something that should have been right beside me. It was scary, his eyes didn't even waver. Also he continued to smile happily though I had stopped interacting with him. "What are you looking at?" I had ask my anxiety coming out in an awkward smile. Again, I turned to examine the hall. Absolutely nothing had changed at all, but this time, when I looked, back I froze. He was looking at me. My whole body went rigid with anxiety and worry. Quickly, I had spun around to, maybe, catch the thing making a fool out of my emotions. But only the towel closet faced me, the door was closed as well.
Utterly perplexed, I tucked him in with his thin baby blanket, wrapping his arms and legs in the blanket to ensure he didn't move and accidentally roll over, just like I had a thousand times before. This time, I ignored his gaze which was lifted to the ceiling. Then I made my way down the stairs and to the kitchen where my laptop lay on the island counter. That's when I heard it. The whole house went silent. It was as if the world waited for something. Even the sound of my heart beat was muted to give way to the awaited sound. I pushed the fear down deep inside me which made my chest so tight I thought it would smash my lungs and heart in the solid cage of my ribs. I pulled out the stool to the island and sat down, opening my laptop. It didn't make a sound when it started up, nor did the keys when I typed in my password. And It doesn't now.
The first sound I heard was the squish of flesh and organs moving. It made me stop all of what I was doing as my desktop background came up. Next was the sick popping crunch of healthy bone. It didn't matter the horrible sounds it made, or whatever it did to cause them. The baby didn't cry, he didn't… didn't even whimper. It was as if he were completely under like when someone gets surgery. As soon as my laptop was up, I opened Word and began to type. It's been a while since I heard Paul cry.
He's usually still awake now. It's almost midnight now and my parents still aren't back. What if they come back before it gets me? Then again, what if they don't? A soft rumbling sound had begun to invade my train of thought. It's deep like the noise a very low bass tone makes. It's almost so loud my insides might vibrate. It's so loud. A constant unending rumble. I can't help but feel like it could be anywhere watching me. I couldn't see it. That's what bothered me. I have one of the largest imaginations and open personalities. I can accept about anything that is thrown at me. Gullible beyond belief, but I could not see it!
10:40 am; next day:
My parents didn't come home last night. It says on the news, there's been an accident on the highway that happened over night. They swerved to avoid hitting something late last night, but ended up sliding out of control and crashing into a tree. I'm alone now. The police haven't arrived yet, thought the bodies have been identified. I haven't moved from this spot in some time. Hahahaha, it says that their house was found, burned to the ground. But that's impossible. I'm still home. I'm still here. I haven't moved all night. I haven't moved. No survivors. The house burned down. I couldn't see it, the baby. The baby was laughing. No survivors…
Help me... I'm still here. I'm still here. I haven't moved! I'm still here! Help me, somebody help me!
I'm still here...