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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Teens
- Theme: Horror
- Subject: Horror / Scary
- Published: 03/27/2023
Descending the Steps
Born 2009, M, from New South Wales, AustraliaI swallowed dryly as I descended the steps, feeling the cool, stippled sweat trickling down my neck, gluing my all too thick blue and red polo to my back.
‘What am I doing!’ I whispered through gritted teeth, my fist clenching my lucky charm (a small plastic ‘monkeys’ paw’ that I won at a fair 7 years ago) so tightly my knuckles paled.
I reached the bottom of the cracked, wooden stairs and stopped, my outstretched hand shaking vigorously inches from the basement’s ghoulish doorhandle. I studied the doorknobs features, staring at the demon emblazoned on it, the beady eyes, sunken features and pointed horns making me shiver in protest. I asked myself again what I was doing, but it was like my body was in auto drive, and I was just a witness to my own doings. My hand shook like a building in an earthquake, but that didn’t stop it from turning the handle and plunging me into the cold, suffocating darkness of the…
‘What is that?’
My voice was cracked, filled with horror, as I stumbled backwards, tripping over my own feet in a rush to get away from what I was seeing.
Suddenly I felt the blood rush to my face, and though no one was watching, I covered my face in embarrassment. When I finally pulled my hands away from my face, climbed back up and forced myself to look at what I’d just run from, I uttered a hysterical laugh.
I picked up the doll, with its grotesque smile, delighted eyes, and rosy cheeks, before placing it back on the shelf where the tools went. I switched on my torch and continued in my search, oblivious to the fact that as I left, the dolls eyes were tracking my steps.
Descending the Steps(Xavier Wilkinson)
I swallowed dryly as I descended the steps, feeling the cool, stippled sweat trickling down my neck, gluing my all too thick blue and red polo to my back.
‘What am I doing!’ I whispered through gritted teeth, my fist clenching my lucky charm (a small plastic ‘monkeys’ paw’ that I won at a fair 7 years ago) so tightly my knuckles paled.
I reached the bottom of the cracked, wooden stairs and stopped, my outstretched hand shaking vigorously inches from the basement’s ghoulish doorhandle. I studied the doorknobs features, staring at the demon emblazoned on it, the beady eyes, sunken features and pointed horns making me shiver in protest. I asked myself again what I was doing, but it was like my body was in auto drive, and I was just a witness to my own doings. My hand shook like a building in an earthquake, but that didn’t stop it from turning the handle and plunging me into the cold, suffocating darkness of the…
‘What is that?’
My voice was cracked, filled with horror, as I stumbled backwards, tripping over my own feet in a rush to get away from what I was seeing.
Suddenly I felt the blood rush to my face, and though no one was watching, I covered my face in embarrassment. When I finally pulled my hands away from my face, climbed back up and forced myself to look at what I’d just run from, I uttered a hysterical laugh.
I picked up the doll, with its grotesque smile, delighted eyes, and rosy cheeks, before placing it back on the shelf where the tools went. I switched on my torch and continued in my search, oblivious to the fact that as I left, the dolls eyes were tracking my steps.
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