Warning.
This story is not for the faint of heart.
"Thanks for coming, set your stuff down on the table."
"Of course. Thank you."
This was normal for Deck. He tutored a lot of kids, and one particular family was his favorite, and his last before he decided to stop.
Deck showed up at their house late at night; the family had called him because their kids were having trouble with their homework, and their parents had to go meet some business clients.
He set the binder down on the table, and sat with the kids.
Opening the book, Deck looked behind him.
"Hey," he asked the youngest one, a boy named Cal. "What's that over there?"
Across the table was a small piece of fabric colored a light cream, the already bland color faded and worn. It looked battered, with two strips colored black at the ends. It was covered in dirt and grime.
Cal looked at it intently. "Sunny!"
His older brother walked in, asking what he was so worked up about.
"What do you--" he stopped once he saw the rag on the table. He picked it up.
"Where did you get this?" he asked.
"We found it on the table."
He paused. "Go get your sister."
"Why--"
"NOW."
Frightened by his brother's change in demeanor, he ran to grab the middle sibling, Dawn.
Sunny turned to Deck, grabbing him by the arm. He threw the rag outside into the rain.
"Get into the attic," he told me, as well as the two kids, who had just returned.
Still confused out of his mind, Deck followed the children into the attic.
"Will somebody please tell me what the heck is goin--"
"Call my parents," he told me, gesturing to a landline. "Be quick about it. There's going to be a black out in a few minutes."
Still confused, I dialed the number.
"Hello?"
"Hi, it's Deck."
"Oh hi! Is everything alright?"
"Sort of. Your kids told me to get into the attic after we found some rag on the table--"
"What rag?" Her voice had gotten more serious, more quicker. She had dropped her usual cheery attitude.
"Some yellow fabric covered in dirt, like it was buried."
"You're in the attic?"
"Yeah. What's going--"
"We're on our way."
"What?"
"We threw that thing out years ago. I'm calling the police."
"I still have no Idea what you're talking about."
"I'll tell you later, do as I--"
Silence. Deck checked the phone; it looked fine. He turned, and found there was no resistance from the phone. He held it up, to find that the wire had been cut.
As if on cue, the power went out. The houses in the area went black, as did the attic. Sunny jerked me into the corner.
"What is even--"
"Shut up. Don't speak. Don't move. Cal, can you pass me that--"
He turned to his brother, but he wasn't there. And neither was his sister.
They saw something moving. The two boys turned to the window, which was wide open. The rag from downstairs had fallen upon it, as if somebody had placed it there.
Then, it fell into the house with a wet plop, soaked and muddy from the rain. The strangest part was that the fabric now possessed two rosy cheeks, each one wet and blood-red.
"Get downstairs. Now."
Deck didn't hesitate this time, running with Sunny into the basement of the house. Sunny turned to look behind him, and shoved Deck down the basement stairs as he shut the door and locked it, securing him in the pitch-black room.
Deck tumbled down the flight, hitting the bottom with a sickening CRACK!
He moaned in pain, his arm broken. He pushed himself over as he pulled out his phone, the screen cracked. He reacted, turning it on.
Suddenly, he heard Sunny scream, hearing an unsatisfying schlick, like a knife.
Then the scream was silenced with another of the same noise, followed by the thud of a body hitting the floor.
Deck called the first person on the Contacts list. His sister.
Before she could talk, Deck spilled the entire story, all the while his sibling telling him to calm down, to no avail. He heard the knob jiggle, then it opened in an instant. He reached for the closest object to him, a shovel.
"Call the police," he said to his sister, turning the phone off.
That was the last I ever heard of my brother.
And this is the last anybody will ever hear of me.
This story is not for the faint of heart.
"Thanks for coming, set your stuff down on the table."
"Of course. Thank you."
This was normal for Deck. He tutored a lot of kids, and one particular family was his favorite, and his last before he decided to stop.
Deck showed up at their house late at night; the family had called him because their kids were having trouble with their homework, and their parents had to go meet some business clients.
He set the binder down on the table, and sat with the kids.
Opening the book, Deck looked behind him.
"Hey," he asked the youngest one, a boy named Cal. "What's that over there?"
Across the table was a small piece of fabric colored a light cream, the already bland color faded and worn. It looked battered, with two strips colored black at the ends. It was covered in dirt and grime.
Cal looked at it intently. "Sunny!"
His older brother walked in, asking what he was so worked up about.
"What do you--" he stopped once he saw the rag on the table. He picked it up.
"Where did you get this?" he asked.
"We found it on the table."
He paused. "Go get your sister."
"Why--"
"NOW."
Frightened by his brother's change in demeanor, he ran to grab the middle sibling, Dawn.
Sunny turned to Deck, grabbing him by the arm. He threw the rag outside into the rain.
"Get into the attic," he told me, as well as the two kids, who had just returned.
Still confused out of his mind, Deck followed the children into the attic.
"Will somebody please tell me what the heck is goin--"
"Call my parents," he told me, gesturing to a landline. "Be quick about it. There's going to be a black out in a few minutes."
Still confused, I dialed the number.
"Hello?"
"Hi, it's Deck."
"Oh hi! Is everything alright?"
"Sort of. Your kids told me to get into the attic after we found some rag on the table--"
"What rag?" Her voice had gotten more serious, more quicker. She had dropped her usual cheery attitude.
"Some yellow fabric covered in dirt, like it was buried."
"You're in the attic?"
"Yeah. What's going--"
"We're on our way."
"What?"
"We threw that thing out years ago. I'm calling the police."
"I still have no Idea what you're talking about."
"I'll tell you later, do as I--"
Silence. Deck checked the phone; it looked fine. He turned, and found there was no resistance from the phone. He held it up, to find that the wire had been cut.
As if on cue, the power went out. The houses in the area went black, as did the attic. Sunny jerked me into the corner.
"What is even--"
"Shut up. Don't speak. Don't move. Cal, can you pass me that--"
He turned to his brother, but he wasn't there. And neither was his sister.
They saw something moving. The two boys turned to the window, which was wide open. The rag from downstairs had fallen upon it, as if somebody had placed it there.
Then, it fell into the house with a wet plop, soaked and muddy from the rain. The strangest part was that the fabric now possessed two rosy cheeks, each one wet and blood-red.
"Get downstairs. Now."
Deck didn't hesitate this time, running with Sunny into the basement of the house. Sunny turned to look behind him, and shoved Deck down the basement stairs as he shut the door and locked it, securing him in the pitch-black room.
Deck tumbled down the flight, hitting the bottom with a sickening CRACK!
He moaned in pain, his arm broken. He pushed himself over as he pulled out his phone, the screen cracked. He reacted, turning it on.
Suddenly, he heard Sunny scream, hearing an unsatisfying schlick, like a knife.
Then the scream was silenced with another of the same noise, followed by the thud of a body hitting the floor.
Deck called the first person on the Contacts list. His sister.
Before she could talk, Deck spilled the entire story, all the while his sibling telling him to calm down, to no avail. He heard the knob jiggle, then it opened in an instant. He reached for the closest object to him, a shovel.
"Call the police," he said to his sister, turning the phone off.
That was the last I ever heard of my brother.
And this is the last anybody will ever hear of me.
