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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1658902-The-Stairs-Dark-Wood
Rated: E · Short Story · Contest Entry · #1658902
The darkwood of the stairs reflects the rooms lights or does it?
My grandma’s house used to be my favorite place to go. Just remembering Grandma’s house reminds me of the good times. The aroma of peach cobbler baking in the oven, or some other treat she had on the verge of being ready.

When I turned twelve, my parents decided to go on a second honeymoon. I was going to stay with Grandma. The sun was setting as we arrived. Grandma greeted us and told me to put my bag in the upstairs playroom. I lugged my duffel bag up the steps, smiling at the thought of the goodies I would get.

As I came back down the stairs, I stopped, looking closely at the steps. It looked like there was a light shining underneath them. I knew that could not be; there was no room under the stairs. When I asked, Grandma said that sometimes the dark wood reflected the room lights and it looked like there was a light under them. When I went back to the stairs, they were normal. Strange, maybe she was right.

Grandma made brownies for our nighttime treat and then I headed to bed. I had never stayed with her before so I had trouble falling asleep. I kept hearing strange noises. Even though I knew most of them were normal sounds, everything sounded creepier in the dark.

One sound was like a high-pitched wail. It scared me so I slid out of the bed and headed to Grandma’s room. When I got to the stairs, I saw the light again. I snuck down the stairs and a door I didn’t know existed was open under the staircase.

I looked inside the door when another wail sounded nearby. I inched inside hoping to hide. When I entered, cold chills trickled down my spine like rain dripping off wet hair. I walked forward into the room that seemed endless, and smelled of fresh turned dirt. I know that may seem impossible, but I can only tell you what I remember. I looked about wildly as I felt disapproving eyes cast in my direction. All I could see was a faint shimmering as if someone was moving in the shadows near the entry.

I ran. My feet sunk slightly in the dirt. I struggled to be silent. A faint light from ahead brought a slight sense of relief. I hurried to reach its illumination. The wailing came often though from further away as if I was moving away from it. Then I saw a strange twisted tree and under it looked like a costume, only as I got closer it looked more like my grandmother’s skin.

The wailing came again much closer to me than before and I froze in my tracks. The shadows gathered near the thing on the ground and it seemed to move. When I could, I turned and ran as fast as I could back to my room, I locked the door and hid under the bed. Time crept by and when daylight arrived I heard my grandmother singing. That could not have been a dream; the dirt on my feet was my proof.



Originally written for a "Invalid Item and had a word count of 499 when it won. It was however unsettling to many who read it and I have clarified the ending as well as fixed some issues this had. It now has a whopping word count of 522. Which is 22 more than were allowed in the original.
© Copyright 2010 rjsimonson (rjsimonson at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1658902-The-Stairs-Dark-Wood