That guy who used to live in my closet. Login to Kupika  or  Create a new account 
 

This diary entry is written by ‹✖[[AntisocialButterfly]]✖›. ( View all entries )
 
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That guy who used to live in my closet.Category: stories
Sunday, 2 June 2013
04:06:50 AM (GMT)
(I just found this story from two years ago.lol)

I live in an old house. My room is the oldest room in the house; the other rooms were
later additions to the house. The previous family was evicted, and the house was
vacant for a long time.  When we first moved in, no one could open my closet door.
And no one knew why it wouldn't open. I had a dresser and an armoire, so I didn't
worry about it too much. 
 
Then, on my third night at the new house, I awoke suddenly at about three o'clock in
the morning. I couldn't figure out why. I switched my bedside lamp on, and I saw that
my closet door was open a little. I had the feeling that some one was watching me. 
I was so scared I started to cry. I couldn't move at first. Then, I slowly layed back
and closed my eyes. I told myself this was just a dream, and I tried to sleep.
Something wet and hot slid over my cheek. I screamed, my eyelids fluttering in the
dark. From the dim light of my lamp, I saw a man standing over me. He looked
surprised. Then, he calmly bent over and licked another tear from my cheek. I stifled
another scream and started to hyperventilate. When the man saw how scared I was, he
looked scared too. He backed away and went into my closet, shutting the door. I ran
to my little sister's room and slept in her bed.
 
The next night, I was convinced it was all a dream. The closet door still couldn't be
opened.  I was determined to sleep in my own room that night. So I got into bed and
slept till about two in the morning, when a sound woke me up. I broke into a cold
sweat as I heard the creek of my closet door opening. I saw a hand emerge, the
fingers wrapping around the door. I sat up in bed. This is a dream, I thought,
nothing to be afraid of. So, I boldly stood up, and I said, "You get the FUCK back in
that closet right NOW!!!" and the hand disappeared and the door closed faster than I
could blink. 
 
The next day, I was curious. Once again, I tried everything to open the closet door.
But I just couldn't get in. Then, I had another thought. I took a deep breath, and
knocked on the door. Nothing... Then, a muffled noise from inside. It might have been
nothing. But, sure enough, the door knob began to turn, and the door was tentatively
opened.  I swallowed, and stepped forward. Inside, the closet walls were painted sky
blue with white clouds. The closet was L shaped, and to my right there was a corner.
I flicked on the light. Something on the floor caught my eye; a butcher knife. Weird,
I thought. I picked it up and went around the corner. I saw the man, sitting on a
small, bare kiddie matress. He had black hair, cut jagged and razored, and snake bite
piercings. His arms were covered in tattoos. His attractiveness startled me. I
stepped back and almost dropped the knife. He looked scared. He was morbidly skinny,
sitting with his legs pulled up to his chest.  'H-hello..', I stammered.  He just
looked at me. I held out the knife. 'Is this... Yours?' He nodded, hesitantly.  I set
the knife on the floor, and ran out of the closet. I went downstairs and tried to
think what I should do. I opened the fridge, and got an apple, a piece of cheese, and
some pepperoni. Then I went back upstairs. When I opened my door, he was sitting on
my bed. I jumped, startled. He blinked his big eyes at me as if to say, 'please don't
be scared!' I handed him the food. He stared at it for a while. Then he sat in front
of the closet door and ate. I saw tears in his eyes.
*********************
He has lived in my closet ever since then. I don't know his name. He never talks. I
bring him food sometimes, or give him a book or a toy. He seems happy to get
attention, but he is afraid if I look afraid. I sense that he is very lonely.
Sometimes, when he thinks I am asleep, I catch him smelling my hair. I yell at him
when he does creepy things like that. Often, I hear him crying from inside the
closet.
Last edited: 2 June 2013

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