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Downstairs



Estimated reading time — 4 minutes

I’m not sure why I’m up right now. It’s almost half past one in the morning and the only company I have are infomercials, the sound of my air conditioner on a setting you see as the lowest, but sounds like a fan on the highest setting, and a friend from some distant past. I feel rather terrible talking to him right now. No no, he hasn’t upset me. It’s more or less that feeling where you feel neglectful about not contributing to the conversation. I’m still trying to figure out why I’m still awake. The best guess I have for that is that it’s the last day of school and I could care less about sleeping through what the day has to bring.

Sitting here behind the screen, I can’t help but to think about someone from the family tree. She used to come by every summer to stay a while, most likely because she had nothing better to do and her family made her crazy. It seems like the only thing that comes to mind about her is a story she told me when we walked a dirt trail in some woodland paradise. Along this trail, around the trees and rocks that would take us by the lake on the way home, she would tell it to me. She told me of a time when she was a little girl in a town that was near the land of the Amish. On a particular day, she went to a church with friends and local kids. They went in for prayer and talk of Jesus and his deeds. Of Adam and Noah and Moses and Solomon and Job and Lot above all. They sang songs, praising his name before they would cut loose to color the Lord with pastel crayons in a room with soothing music and apple juice and crackers. The day soon changed to night as a storm rolled into the place known for its crops and helpful people who live a different kind of life.

It was then the children grew bored and wanted to play a game of hide and go seek. A child stood in the corner to count as high as they set it, while the others ran to hide in the church, all the while the sound of thunder distracted the counter; while bad for her, it was excellent for the children. When she reached the decided number, she went all around to find her friends. One by one, she found them all. Lane, Sarah, Kyle, and Mike. Debbie and Amber. Bobby, Laura and Derek soon appeared at long last. As they brought the game to a close, when their parents were pulling in, they called for the hidden — Lucy, Johnny, and little Noah who were still playing the game.

Call one, Johnny came out from the bathroom, forgetting they ever played a game. Call two, Lucy came out of the pastor’s office, calling her grandmother to see if her health was improving. Call three, little Noah was nowhere to be. They looked up and down for the little tyke, believing he might have hidden under a pew or gotten himself locked in a closet or that he cheated by running to the lot to go home. Illogical it was, when his father came out of the rain, waiting to bring him home with his snack in a bright blue lunch box. They looked much more as a frenzy had arisen.

She told me that while she sat by the door, Lane told her that he remembered hearing Noah giggle as he found the place to hide, staring back at the basement door by his hiding place. She told Noah’s dad and Father James, who soon opened the door and ascended down into the darkness. A flame was list, and some of the children followed the grownups down the stairs. She stood at the top, looking down with Lane by her side. As quickly as it was when the flame of a match was lit, it soon died out. A light below flickered once, revealing all down below, walking around to find young Noah. When the light was swallowed, all was black once more until it was coughed up by some force, then all were gone. She swallowed her fear and stepped through the doorway and looked over the rail, to see all were gone. The two of them backed away and left the place to find an adult to help them.

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When the police arrived, they found nothing but boxes and firewood for the wood burner. A small trapped door was found under a box, which they were able to open with some difficulty. In the narrow drop, they found a little child, whose flesh was picked clean by worms of the earth. His eyes and hair were gone, and his mouth was agape, as if he had seen the greatest horror as the light escaped his eyes. He may have been missing for decades, but nobody knows. Nobody remembers seeing the missing boy go down those stairs, and nobody ever saw him come up. They put locks on the door to make sure nobody went down again, and all stories are just held as rumors, that was until a fire ravaged through the holy place years later, perhaps an act by God to stop the lies and the evil that plagued the land.

As we made the trip back to our tent, she told me something she never told anyone before. She said that when she looked over the ledge, after the power returned, for a split second she could have sworn she saw a face on the floor and something being pulled into the wood burner, something that looked like someone’s feet. I assumed she was just shaken up by Noah disappearing, but she told me something I’d never forget. After the church burned down, police did a through investigation and found that in the the wood burner that survived, human remains were found. The only thing found that was complete were two human feet, with remains of what are thought to be part of human hands and skulls were found deeper back. Also, in the same small pit of the trap door, were more remains that were undiscovered or recovered by the first team of police officers. Those remains were of more than one person. The first being someone who may have been a teenager and the other being a small child. If it was Noah, I don’t know.

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I don’t know why I’m even up right now. Maybe I should get some sleep. I’m seeing things out of the corners of my damn eyes again.

Credit To: AJ / Gatsby

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21 thoughts on “Downstairs”

  1. Meerkats eat our hearts out

    PuddingTea:
    That was terrible.You had 2 framing narratives, one of which was wholly unnecessary.Why not just begin the story walking through the woods with your female relative?Why bother with all of the “I don’t know why I’m awake right now” stuff.That second framing narrative adds absolutely nothing and just makes your story more tedious; leave it out next time.Also, you aren’t very good at describing things.For instance, it isn’t totally clear at first what happened in the basement when everyone disappeared.Finally, the story really isn’t that scary.That last criticism is admittedly more subjective but honestly I’d be surprised if any significant number of people are really creeped out by your furnace monster.Sorry.1/10.

    He put it to set the scene and I thought it was good

  2. really this story is ok honestly though lots of uneeded details the whole plote was good and who ever wrote thid msn or women is on the right track but next time u post a supposed creepy paste have someone else revise it for u i give a 4/10

  3. Reading this, I suspected the author learned English as a second languant, but reading the comment above, it sounds like he was just tired.

    Definitely proofread. This was pretty bad – once you fix all the mechanical errors, you can go ahead and rewrite basically the whole thing, since it needs some fairly heavy restructuring.

    And it’s already been said, but the last line or two really killed it. He’s being haunted by the spirits of the people that were eaten by the mean wood burner? Or did the mean woodburner get up and walk across the country to say hi to him?

    Anyway, good luck hitting your stride again. I know what it’s like to get rusty; you just have to power through it.

    1. I think when he said he was seeing things out of the corner of his eyes he was trying to show that thinking about the story his relative told him made him paranoid.
      I personally liked the way he shifts back and forth between perspectives, it was a different way of approaching things.
      Just had to put my two cents in there. :)

  4. the hash slinging slasher

    i liked this pasta, and i actually didn’t have a problem with the two points of view. It gave it kind of a distraction, something to make it less predictable. I would give it 7/10

  5. Thanks for the comments guys. I haven’t written anything remotely decent in a year or two, so pushing out something bad,mediocre or weak was something I expected. I was also writing this at 2 or 3 in the morning and was quite drowsy and not in the best state of mind due to not sleeping well and having exams on my mind. On top of that, I was also working on two stories, a few bland freeverse poems and trying to get back into writing songs (which are also blah…) Although I’m my own worst critic (many pastas I had written that had potential were thrown in the garbage), I should have known better and revised this to the best of my abilities instead of submitting garbage that wasn’t looked over properly. I was unacceptable as someone who loves creepypasta, reading it and writing it. I’ll do my best to learn from my errors and improve myself.

    I hope to get something decent out with time when I can get my “A game” back. Again, thanks for the comments. I appreciate them.

  6. That was terrible. You had 2 framing narratives, one of which was wholly unnecessary. Why not just begin the story walking through the woods with your female relative? Why bother with all of the “I don’t know why I’m awake right now” stuff. That second framing narrative adds absolutely nothing and just makes your story more tedious; leave it out next time. Also, you aren’t very good at describing things. For instance, it isn’t totally clear at first what happened in the basement when everyone disappeared. Finally, the story really isn’t that scary. That last criticism is admittedly more subjective but honestly I’d be surprised if any significant number of people are really creeped out by your furnace monster. Sorry. 1/10.

  7. i thought it was pretty good up until you said you saw things out of the corner of your eyes again I hear that in these pastas so many times its annoying but so far it was pretty good thats just my opinion though

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