Jackson's Terror - A Horror Short Story

in #writing7 years ago

Echoes in the distance startled Jackson. The house creaked as if it was a thousand years old and with every step he made the wooden floor felt like collapsing at any second. He did not want to go up the stairs for a ridiculous bet that he made with the others. He was getting anxious and all the weird sounds that the house was making were shaking his very core. He put his right foot on the first step and a loud banging sound came from behind him. It was the door, it had slam shut because of the strong wind. "Relax Jackson, it's just the wind" Jackson thought to himself. He grabbed his chest and took a deep breath. He had to prove to his classmates that he was courageous and he could do this. Especially if he wanted to have a chance at asking Diane out. She was one of the school's popular cheerleaders. He had wanted to ask her out for ages but never had the courage to do it. This feat of courageousness would put him on the map with her. She would finally start to notice him and maybe start to talk to him. Jackson grew more anxious thinking about it. The house moaned loudly from the wind hitting it's walls. Jackson clicked back to reality, he had to climb those steps and take a video of what he would see on the second floor. This house had been abandoned for ages and as tradition goes with abandoned houses, it was said that it was cursed. Hundreds of stories and legends were made up about this house. One story went on about a happy family that lived here long ago that got murdered in cold blood and now their ghosts roam the halls of the big old house. Another about a small girl called Samantha that fell down the stairs and appears to people while still searching for her teddy bear friend. The least scariest one is the one with the doll house that comes to life every night and have a party with all the other toys that join them. Jackson, thinking about these stories that people have created along the years, starts to see the humour in it all. These people have created stories all these years just to make sure people wouldn't come in the house or demolish it. Even so he could feel the adrenaline rushing through his veins and the sweat going down his brow. He HAD to do this. It was a must. He started climbing the stairs, with each step the heart beat faster. The steps moaned loudly as if they were warning him to stay away and get out immediately. He reached the middle of the stairwell and suddenly he heard a scream. Jackson quickly fell on the middle step and closed his eyes, holding on to the railing of the staircase for dear life. Then he heard the others laugh. He opened his eyes and shined his flashlight on them.

"You should have seen your face!" One of the Jocks was laughing uncontrollably. "You didn't wet your underwear did you Jackson?" His mate asked while still trying to breathe from the laugh they got. Jackson looked at them both, got up on the stairwell and turned around. He hated the Jocks. They were nothing but mere bullies. They would humiliate him all day at school and make him seem like a loser in front of Samantha and her friends. He knew that the best way to fight them was to show them that he wasn't afraid of this house. He took a deep breath and continued up the stairs. "Hey Jack, don't let little Samantha snatch you!" Jackson could hear the Jocks laugh in the background. He looked around the hall as he shined his light on the doors. There were three of them and a window at the end of the hall. Jackson shined his light on the first door to his right that he encountered. 'Spare Bedroom' The sign read. Jackson turned the knob but it was for nothing. The door wouldn't open and it didn't seem locked. It was seemingly corroded and couldn't open fully. Jackson gave it a good push and it budged. He tried opening it again from the knob and it gave in. The door fell on to the ground with Jackson falling on top of it. The torch slided across the room. Jackson panicked and immediately reached for the flashlight as if he was chased by the darkness around him. He got up, dusted himself and started looking around the room. In the right corner of it, you could see there was a single bed and a little side table with a lamp on it. In the right corner of the room next to a sweet little playpen, was a crib overlooking the window to the street below. It was a baby's room, thought Jackson. He heard footsteps. It was those Jocks again, he was sure of it.

"Brandon, Michael... If you're trying to scare me it won't work, I know you're out there now." They were playing games with him, he thought. They weren't going to get the better of him though. Jackson investigated the hall outside with his flashlight, looking both ways before coming out. He came out of the room and looked at the opposite room and tried to make sense of the sign hanging on the door knob. The sign was definetly not written in English but Jackson interpreted it as if it was a warning sign. No matter, he had to see what was in the room. He turned the knob and opened the door cautiously. The adrenaline was still pumping to every part of his body but the reward he kept envisioning kept him going. One where Diane would finally start a conversation with him as he would approach her. As he slowly opened the door he saw a weird looking painting of a clown on the wall. "What a weird painting to have in your house" thought Jackson. He stepped inside, immediately noticing the damp air in the room. Jackson couldn't breathe properly. He turned to get out of the room but the door slammed shut. He panicked. "Guys this isn't funny, let me out!" Jackson slammed on the door but no response came. He tried opening the door to no avail, the knob wouldn't turn. It was as if the door had been locked. "I'm serious guys, I can't breathe properly in here!" A sharp, powerful sound came from behind. Jackson turned his flashlight, only to be startled again by the horrible clown painting. Jackson's fear was growing. He tried turning the knob again but as he realized that his efforts were futile he resorted to sheer force. He started banging on the door with his shoulder in an attempt to break it down. The floor started shaking, or was it? Jackson stepped back, pointing his flashlight towards the floor. Was he imagining things or was it a small earthquake? Fear had taken over him. He kicked the door with his foot in an attempt to break down the door and get out of this god forsaken house when suddenly he felt a jerk on his jacket from behind. Jackson turned quickly and looked at the floor but his flashlight went out. The batteries died or the flashlight broke. Either or, he was in this dark room, paranoid and alone. Jackson felt his throat close up and he knew that he was going to cry soon. The knob turned. "Finally you guys, let me out of here I was starting to.." He looked down. A small figure dressed in a white laced material was in front of him. A pair of eyes gleam at him. "Have you seen my teddy bear Jackson?"