I Remember
I remember the house from my childhood. I remember it being my uncles’. I remember the rather odd fashion the house lied in – ruins. And I remember my father telling me not to talk to my uncle, that he was a poor role-model. I never saw my uncle after that, and I don’t know why. I recall these things as I arrive on the decrepit, burned-down property. As I close the car door behind me, undergrowth in the forest behind rustles intensely in the evening breeze. Unsettled by the ambient and eerie atmosphere, I swiftly walked up to the ruined house, stepping up on the creaky steps. The floorboards let out deep croaks under my weight, as I take steps towards the door. The top floor of the house was awfully barren, an eerie breeze floating aloft the Autumn breeze, carrying with it an unpleasant, musty smell. The radiance of Sunset beams on the horizon, as evening bridges the border to night-time. I decide to get going before night comes about, and begin walking to the door. As I step towards the door, I trip over a lip in the floor-boards. I turn as I realize there to be a basement. I tear open the Basement Floorboard, hinged on a rusty silver hinge next to a wall, creaking nastily. I step down the groaning steps and immediately receive a vile surge of the odor from before, which appears to be wafting from a small chest at the end of a long, damp, stony hallway. I notice the dark of night has fully consumed the cabin, and I turn on my cell phone’s flashlight. The cobbled walkway shifts as my boots push down my weight onto them, as I reach the chest. The odious scent seems to have gotten close enough to taste, as I unlatch the chest’s lock and open it. What lies within almost makes me vomit, the decomposing corpse of a young lady, her ribcage ripped clean open, organs missing, her skin-tone pale and grey. Her body has been crudely compact into a tight ball, as her body could never have fit into such a small chest. That rustling from the forest sure seemed to get closer. I feel a warm and heavy breathing on the back of my neck, causing the hair on my arms to stand on end. I reel back and begin to turn, catching the silhouette of a massive, burly man, carrying an unidentifiable object. I can’t focus on the figure for long, as the latch on the basement door clicks, and it swings shut with one final, resounding slam. Now I remember why my Father told me to stay away. CREDIT : CursedAK Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on Creepypasta.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed under any circumstance.