Horror Story Part 8

Tilting your head you want to believe that it’s all in your mind but it’s getting louder. Your heartbeat is starting to drown out the sound again but the crying just seems to become louder to the point of it piercing your ears. You cup your left ear and push your head into your shoulder as you point the flashlight at the closest door. Part of you wants to open it, the other run screaming from the house.

Stepping up to the closet the crying seems to echo, as you reach for the knob it stops. You decide to leave it closed and start moving back into the hall, as you body leaves the threshold of the room the crying begins again quiet at first like before. You try to ignore it, checking back toward the stairs you move farther down the hallway. A painting hangs to your right or at least a frame, normally odd but for now it doesn’t bother you in the slightest. You find another door, the room you assume parallel to the one you just exited.

You touch the doorknob; it doesn’t feel cold at all however you have to force the handle for it to click open. The door creaks open much more loudly then the other, you cringe hoping the noise doesn’t carry throughout the house. This room is a large contrast from the other; you can see a window and the room is lit in a bluish glow from the moon. You step into the room looking about, you see a bed and a dresser the closet is open some old cloths are inside. You move toward the window, you can hear the sobbing coming from the room across. You look out the window but to your surprise all you can see is fog and the light from the moon somehow piercing through.

You strain your fingers trying to open the window but it barely creaks. Giving up that attempt you remove your backpack and fumble for the crowbar when the crying from the other room turns into a scream. You freeze crowbar in hand the fog playing with the glow from the moon dancing images across the floor. You hear a thud followed by another, then a pop and a creak. You stand up straight eyes darting about, you aren’t sure but you think its coming from the room next door. The closet perhaps, did the door just open?

You look back at the window; do you dare break it now? What if the sound attracts something, what if you can’t break it. Too many questions not enough answers, you begin to sweat. You move to the wall placing your ear to it trying to listen, you hear what sounds like a footstep, then another and another. Coming away from the wall you look toward the open door into the hallway, you grip the crowbar tightly. It couldn’t be the same thing that you saw downstairs could it? How could it be, although the passage of time since you left that thing downstairs eludes you, just how long have you been up here? The thought bubble is popped by the sounds of steps in the hall followed by a soft sobbing.