This is a scary story. It's not really scary, maybe like a 2 or 3 out of 5 on the scariness level. But, if you don't really like scary or creepy stories, you might not want to read this.
Also, there might be some more versions later.
The Stairs From Which She Came
By: Sam S. and Honor T.
It was a quiet Sunday evening. Quincy had just gotten in her car to get dinner at the mall. It was near her home, so she figured that she could get back fast. Fast enough to finish her social studies essay, which was due the next day at 12:00PM. But, finishing the essay wasn’t exactly what Quincy was thinking about at the time. However, what she 𝒘𝒂𝒔 thinking about, was getting dinner. So, she trailed out of her driveway and into an abyss. An abyss of smooth roads.
During the drive, there was an eerie silence accompanied by the absence of cars other than her own. Quincy realized this as she made it to the intersection on the road with no homes. So, she clicked on the radio and turned it to the middle volume, an earload of classical music blasting into the car.
Quincy’s car slid into the mall parking lot. The sound of tires rolling over gravel muted her music. The mall lights were bright, shining, and neon. They cast light onto the lot of cars, giving off a ghostly glimmer. Quincy slammed her car door as she maneuvered to the mall’s entrance.
Quincy put her hands on the huge mall doors as she pushed. The doors screeched and reflected the lights nearby. Inside, Quincy could see that there were just 2 other people and 1 worker. Quincy went to the worker, a woman who was probably in her 20s.
“Where can I buy some pizza?”
Quincy stuttered, but controlled it after “buy”.
The woman replied, “Don’t you mean, ‘What’s open right now’?”.
Quincy nodded and the woman grabbed Quincy’s arm and led her to the 1 store in the mall that was opened. It just happened that the store sold food.
Quincy threw open the front door and trudged to her table, which was waiting for the Sunday mall take-out box to slam onto it. “Not doing that again.”, Quincy mumbled to herself as she opened the pizza box.
𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌
“One loud pizza box.”, Quincy thought as the box lay open on the table, unmoving.
𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌
“Wait.”, Quincy whirled to face the stairway closet, the source of the noise.
Something had to have moved or had been moving. Again, but with more effort, Quincy exclaimed, “Wait. The stairs!”, thinking something must have been knocked onto them.
“There it is.”
One stair with a shoe-shaped absence of dust, which wasn’t what Quincy thought she would see.
But, who, or what, stepped there? This was exactly what Quincy repeated to herself until she carefully took photos of the stairs.
As she inspected her photos, Quincy noticed that it wasn’t from a shoe, but the print was from a foot itself. Quincy lived by herself and hadn’t invited friends over that day, but one of her friends had a key to Quincy’s front door. So, maybe her friend got into the house?
Quincy called her friend’s name and it echoed through the hallway. Quincy yelled, “Hey!”, and her voice echoed back to her again. “Hey!”
“Hey!”
“Hey!”
“Quincy! Quincy-”, a shriek, not belonging to Quincy, repeating itself through the hallway until, “Quincy!”. The screams ended with a painful, ear-splitting choking sound, leaving Quincy in complete silence. Quincy didn’t know if she should go to the room at the end of the hallway or if she should run, but the voice sounded like a person Quincy knew. It sounded like her friend. Quincy couldn’t run away from her friend, even though they hadn’t talked for a while since they were in different colleges.
But, why did her friend scream? Why did the screaming end so quickly?
Quincy soon found out why the screaming ended as she saw her friend lying on the cold tile floor, colder than the floor itself. Her friend was alive, breathing, and knocked out. Quincy let out a quiet gasp. She would have yelped or gasped louder, but she knew the thing, a “monster” let’s call it, it was with her inside the house, living, breathing, and waiting.
Quincy’s eyes darted across the room and out of the corner of her eyes, she saw a figure standing in the doorway. The monster.
The monster’s eyes looked piercingly at her. Quincy didn’t see it, but she knew. She could feel it. The cold eyes of the monster.
The monster searched the room as Quincy stumbled into the bathroom behind her, barricading the door with a small shelf. She was alone with the monster. How would she be safe?
Quincy was looking for something to defend herself and noticed a short door, not tall enough for the monster to fit in, but just tall enough for her to go through. So, she quickly grabbed the social studies book on the shelf which was against the door. She had her book now, and it was large enough to be used to defend herself.
The door seemed quite tall as Quincy stepped through it, but she knew she would be safe there. Safe from the monster.
Wait.
Quincy built her walk into a run. There was a paper on the wall of the passageway.
“What? There’s a note!”, Quincy whispered, “A note.”
The note had scattered sentences and was an orange color. It was typed.
“Do not open the basement door.
We all know you are trapped here, but do not act like we can’t see you. We know where you are. We will always know where you are. If you escape, don’t hide. It’s a waste of time. We will know when you try to cause issues like that, like opening the basement door. Don’t open the door. There’s no point. It’s as pointless as standing out in the open. We know your thoughts. . . We have them.
We know your next move. We know your every move. You should know that. We know you. We’ve always known you. Don’t you remember me?”
The note ended.
Quincy looked around like she would find the person trapped there before, knowing she wouldn’t find them. But, she wanted to believe she would, so she searched the passageway. All she found there was some paper, a phone, a broken pin and lock. There wasn’t much there, but what she found was important.
The broken pin and lock meant that the person who was trapped escaped, and maybe explains why the monster was released. But, who was the person? Who wrote the note on the door?
Quincy’s thoughts were interrupted by a loud banging on the bathroom door, which was right next to the passageway door. Quincy sped further into the passage to be even further from the monster, asking herself, “Why didn’t I know about this passage? I live here!”
Quincy made it to the other side of the passageway and saw a sign. She read it, “Basement Door.” It was the basement!
The door wasn’t there, just a gaping rectangle and a square window which was on the floor. Quincy stepped into the doorway and took out her social studies book, ready to hit something with it. But, she was greeted, not with an attack, but with lengths of stairs that dropped meters into an abyss of books and an abyss of dust. It was a forest of stairways.
“How far can these stairs reach?”, Quincy thought.
Quincy took a rock, the size of her hand, from the side of the wall and dropped it. A few seconds passed as
the
rock
fell
further and
further.
CRASH.
The rock hit something. The something, no, THAT, wait, no, THE something let out a shriek. It gasped and gasped. Its breathing was loud and the noise filled the room. But, the breathing turned into snarls. The snarls into growls. The growls into screams.
Silence.
𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑
𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙚𝙚𝙖𝙠
𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑
𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙚𝙚𝙖𝙠
Feet going up the stairs.
Quincy turned to the doorway, but it was blocked and she didn’t know how. But, she 𝒅𝒊𝒅 know that she was trapped and something was coming for her. So, she got her book ready to hit the possible monster.
Quincy turned around to face the doorway again after looking back at the stairs, to see if she could go through.
𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙚𝙚𝙖𝙠
Quincy didn’t hear what was behind her and something grabbed her shoulder and yanked her back.
Quincy screamed. It was a cacophonous noise, blaringly loud.
Quincy was dropped a few feet and hit some stairs, which kept her from falling. Quincy felt no pain, but she wanted to know what had yanked her.
She looked around. Stairs. Just stairs. No monster.
Quincy’s book had also been dropped and was on the floor 2 feet away from her. She grabbed it, knowing what was watching her. It was watching the house.
Cameras.
Quincy noticed the sharp glare of light reflected off of a small camera, positioned right above the stairs. This was no monster watching her. But, who was it? Who was chasing her?
𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑
𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑
𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑
𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑
faster 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑
faster 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑
“RUN.”, a voice growled as Quincy thought the exact same word, “run”, and she did. She ran.
𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑
Quincy could hear her own footsteps and she could hear the footsteps following her as she went across a small bridge which connected 2 stairways. 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑
The bridge was metal and held up by chains, which Quincy could hear. The sound of shoes was covered by the rustling of chains like the rustling of a metal bush.
Quincy twisted to see if there was something behind her even at that time, after running for at least 5 minutes, and there was. So, Quincy thought, “What if I break the chains? It won’t follow me, now.”, so she pounded on the chains, which were small and broke with a loud thud after 2 or 3 hits.
As she heard the thud, Quincy saw, on the other stairway which she crossed the bridge from, her friend standing there. “Becky! What are you doing? I thought you got knocked out!”, Quincy yelled across to her friend. Becky yelled back, “I WAS knocked out! But they’re chasing us!”
“Who?”, Quincy asked, but she soon found out who was chasing them.
A person who came from Becky’s right, and Quincy didn’t know who, grabbed Becky’s leg, using it to drag her away as she shrieked. Becky shoved the person, trying to get away. The person shoved her back.
“ QUINCY”
“QUINCY”
“Quincy”, Quincy didn’t move. She heard a slamming noise, coming from a door.
Quincy began to look for Becky, quietly running across the next bridges.
A light. There was a way to get out of the basement, or the room with the stairs.
Quincy raced to the light, her speed causing chains, previously silent, to clash.
She has reached a doorway, with no door. It was open and waiting for Quincy to step through, dust settling around it. An orange light was projected through a small lamp on a dusty desk. What was the room for? Why was it in the basement? Was it in the basement?
The room’s walls were spotted with paintings. Paintings of Becky. As Quincy realized this, she gasped. Loud. Why were these pictures here? She wanted to investigate this room more, but Quincy wanted to find Becky. So, she kept running up the hallway connected to the room.
More pictures of Becky lined the hallway. In some, she had a hat. In others, she had books. But, one, which prevented Quincy from running, Becky had the broken lock and broken key from the passageway. There was another note, attached to the picture frame.
“It’s me.”
The note was short.
Quincy kept running. The hallway ended, leading to a large room, possibly a living room, and definitely above the ground, unlike the basement. The walls were painted blue and there were small, orange tables.
Quincy was in Becky's living room.
How did her basement connect her and Becky's houses?
"Hello, Quincy. We knew you would come here.", a voice stated.
Quincy replied, "Who are you?". But, she was a bit late because a person, the voice, materialized in a doorway, facing Quincy.
It was BECKY.