Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Spooky faces in the stairs

Some of the scary stories I tell are mine, others belong to friends or family members, and some are things recanted to me second or third generation. However, if I swear something to be true you can bet your grandma's left tit that it is. Nipple and all. I will not always tell you which ones are mine and which are second hand bones, and sometimes I will even put a story into first person when it's something I heard, just to throw you, the reader, off. Sometimes I do it to protect the innocent, the guilty, or my own hairy yellow ass.

Once upon a time Stan moved out of his house and his marriage. His bestest friend Tim had recently bought a house, and Stan moved in. It would only be temporary, Stan promised.
Three months later Tim told Stan he was going to move him to another part of the house. The room Stan was currently in was too close to Tim's bedroom and it was creaping out Tim's girlfriend.
So Stan was moved into one of the rooms upstairs.
That night Stan went to bed drunk, as he often did. Sometime during the middle of the night he heard someone knocking on his door. It wasn't the usual three wraps that someone would normally do, it was a constant tap-tap-tap-tap-tap that seemed to be going on endlessly. Finally the noise was enough to wake Stan up from his drunken stupor.
"Yeah, what?" Stan said, thinking it was Tim. The tapping continued.
"What the fuck do you want?" Stan bellowed, thinking it was one of his friends messing with him. The tapping continued.
Stan was annoyed into a murdurous rage and jumped from bed. The taps got louder as he crossed the room and flung the door open.
No one was there.
Fuck me. Stan thought to himself. He looked out into the hallway and even checked the surrounding rooms. There was less then a second from one of the taps to the time the door opened, not enough for someone to run away and hide.
Stan did the only intelligent thing; he went downstairs to drink more.
It was just Stan and Tim in the house, and Tim was fast asleep in his room. Stan sat in the kitchen and finished the vodka before heading back into his room and laying down.
His head hadn't been on the pillow for more than two minutes when someone started to jiggle the doorknob. Stan moaned loudly at the door and threw his pillow across the room. The doorknob continued to rattle away. Finally there was a loud click and the door slowly creaked open. Stan sat up in his drunken stupor and looked into the nothingness that opened up to him. No one was standing there, no one was opening the door, yet he was watching it slowly open until it touched the wall and stopped.

The next three nights went exactly the same. Stan came home, drank and went to bed, only to wake up a few hours later. After the third night Stan told Tim, his friend and Landlord about the ghostly occurances.
On the fourth night Tim stayed up with Stan. It was a friday night and neither of them had to be at work in the morning. They hung out drinking until two in the morning. Stan finally headed up to bed. Tim remained downstairs watching re-runs of doctor who on BBCA until he heard it. Upstairs, coming from Stan's room. There was a light rattle as if someone was jiggling a doorknob. Tim headed up the stairs and watched the door slowly open. He saw Stan's eyes shining wide and bright in the room.
Knowing that everyone would think they were drunk Stan and Tim decided to video tape the door opening.
The next night they set the recorder up and tunred it on at two in the morning. Stan went to bed. At two forty the door started making its noise and opened. Stan could see the red record light flashing away. The next afternoon Stan and Tim invited some friends over to watch the tape.
They told their story and everyone thought they were full of shit until Tim hooked up the digital recorder to the TV and played the footage. There was no faking it. Everyone was shocked.
After everyone left Tim and Stan decided to sprinkle powder all over the floor in Stan's room. This way they would see the footprints if someone was walking into the room.
They went into the kitchen and grabbed a five pound bag of flour. Half way up the stairs Tim tripped and spilt enough to cover the back of Stan's pants in flour. He shook it off and informed Tim he would be cleaning the mess.
They went into Stans room and sprinkled flower all over the room, set up the digital recorder and headed back down the stairs very carefully so they didn't slip on the flour. While Stan put the flour back in the cabinet Tim went over to the stairs with the broom to pick up the spilled flour.
"Stan!" Tim screamed from the foot living room. "STAN! Get the fuck in here NOW!" Tim sounded on edge and Stan came running. He found Tim standing in the living room looking at the stairs. Stan followed his gaze and saw it; a single set of footprints in the flour, and half way across the room. The footprints stoped five feet away from them.

Tune in next time for the exciting conclusion. Same Bat Time, Same Bat Channel.

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