The Walk-In Closet - Conclusion

The sound came again. Two hits in a row, like someone banging on the front door of a house. Although, the hit sounded so heavy that mom would've been angry at whoever was knocking that way.

It didn't sound too close. But this way had a new smell I didn't like. It was foul and metallic, like something which had been blasted into the air. It was even colder here. I shivered a little but tried to hold my shakes in.

Three hits this time. Very hard. Like someone wanted to beat down a door. The hits came with very little pause between them. And I was moving in the direction of the bangs. I tried to keep to the side which was away from them but the wall I was following angled towards the sound.

Four violent hits in a row. Then another four. Then, there was no pause. Just banging over and over against some unknown object. The hits rippled out in the air. I came to a junction and took a quick look right. I nearly screamed.

In the dark was finally a bit of light. But it was red light. Two red, glowing eyes blazing against the cold blackness. Moving fast, I hurled my lunch box right at the eyes and sprinted the other way.

I stumbled again and again but kept going, picking up my feet. I banged into the wall with my shoulder. I didn't care. I just had to run. I had to. It was right behind me. I dared not look back to see how close. I could sense it right there.

I mashed my hand against a protruding pipe and tucked it in as it pulsed with pain. I could cry later. Somehow, I avoided slamming into walls. In the distance, I could see a little flake of light above me. I could also hear the scratching again in rapid rounds of four behind me.

I lunged for the light and stubbed my foot against a step. I ignored that hurt too and bolted up them, leaping over as many as I could.

The light was burningly bright against my eyes. All I could see was blurs, but I knew I was outside the school. In a field. It must've been behind the baseball fields. I didn't wait to get my bearings. I saw a gray metal fence and I ran for it.

I ran so swiftly I felt like my shoes were gonna fly off. I bolted at the fence. I flailed with my grip. The metal dug into my sore hands. I could barely get a hold. The openings were too small. I couldn't get my feet through. I slipped and fell back onto the ground, flat on my back. I could hear the scraping.

Wincing, I tugged myself back to my feet and held tight to the fence. I had to climb. I just looked up. My feet slipped so I just pushed them harder against the fence. They barely held but I kept pushing, kept flailing inch by inch until the rough and jagged top of the fence dug into my flesh. I threw myself over and hoped there was grass on the other side.

As I tumbled, I saw a quick, mottled form. I felt something hot wash over me like a breath. I landed with my back to the fence, on gravel and weeds. I ran on sore legs away from school.

I soon found an intersection. I saw Meadow Hills, the road behind the school and Orchard Avenue, the street which led to my house. I bolted down Orchard in the dark.

Behind me, it sounded like something was smashing against the metal fence, beating against it. I didn't check. I just ran. Half of the lights were out but that was normal with how long it took the town to replace burned-out street bulbs back then. What unnerved me was that so few people had their front lights on.

Far back, it sounded like a sudden scrape against the metal fence. And that was the last sound I heard against the fence. After that, I heard scraping on pavement in pulses of four.

I was out of breath. I was exhausted. But my house was right before me. So far and yet so close. I pumped my arms and ran with the pulses of four getting closer and closer.

There was my front yard. I leaped over the curb and looked right at the door. The porch light was on. I bent my hand out for the door. The scraping sound felt like it was just a few feet away. I clutched the door knob in my hand and pressed my shoulder into it.

It opened with a turn. I rushed into the doorway, closed the door behind me, and locked it on the other side. The door banged like a heavy newspaper had been dropped against it. And that was all. No other sounds.

I finally breathed normally. The living room was all dark like after everyone went to bed. I avoided the window drapes. I didn't want to look out. Climbing the stairs, I walked by my parent's room. They were both asleep. I thought about waking them. But I knew my bed was just after my brother's at the end of the hall.

Opening my door, I looked at the darkened shape of my bed with all little toys littered around it. My window had a crack in the drape where the street lights shined through a little and the tree right in front of it cast long, skeletal shadows. I'm not sure why. Probably because I was on the second story and I felt safe. But I crept over to the window and peered through the drapes.

On the edge of our porch, I caught a quick flash of red and a pulse of black. I leaned back and moved to close the drapes. I heard the scratching. Only it was against wood. Like something was climbing the tree. I staggered back and clutched my bed. I yanked my covers over my body and buried myself in them.

Still, I could hear the same scratches following one after the other. Closer and closer. Up the tree. Across a branch. Right at the edge of my window. I was sure it would touch the glass.

I screamed in the dark of my room. I cried for mom and dad. I yelled at the top of my lungs in the hopes that would drive it away. I kept buried in my covers until I heard footsteps rushing to my bedroom. My parents.

They flicked on the lights. I bent just my head out of the covers. Light blasted all around. I had to close my eyes with bleary tears.

I tried to explain. I told them bits and pieces. They stroked my hair and said it was just a nightmare. I urged them it wasn't.

They told me I had been given a time-out in the walk-in closet for hours, till the end of class. The teacher apologized for forgetting about me and had to call mom to pick me up. I had been very quiet this evening, they said, like I was in a half-sleep or in a trance.

As they told me, the idea started to make more sense to me. It had to have been a dream. I had forgotten about coming home. The time in the closet had just freaked me out. I even began to recall mom picking me up.

But then I saw my clothes under the blankets. There was dirt and mud and a few scrapes here and there. Mom admonished me for not changing out of my clothes to take a bath when I said I would.

I felt around. My hand didn't hurt. Not that much. My foot didn't feel stubbed. But I did have my shoes on and they had a bit of mud on them. Mom pulled them off immediately and glared at me for getting mud in my bed.

I had to take a bath while mom watched. I changed into my regular pajamas and she tucked me back into bed, saying, "Now…no nightmares."

I nodded to her, although I wasn't sure. I worried the whole night I might see a flash of red eyes through the window, even with the drapes pulled closed. But I slept without dreams.

Saturday was quiet and uneventful. Nothing weird outside. I even walked over to the school and looked at it a bit. I couldn't see a little opening in the grass where I thought I had run out of the basement.

Sunday passed quietly as well. I teased my brother. I forgot my homework and then kinda did it and then forgot it again. By Sunday evening, I hadn't thought about what may have happened for a while. Then came school on Monday.

I walked the usual way and thought to check everything. I still couldn't find the little opening in the grass, no matter how hard I looked. I lingered around the office a bit, looking for any kind of seam in the floor where an opening to the basement might exist. I saw nothing either.

I did notice the cowboy in the window, but it looked completely benign with a brightly-colored smile in the daylight.

I washed my hands in the bathroom and made it to class early.

Nothing happened for about an hour until Mrs Walker was given a note. She called me up to her desk and said, "There's someone in the office who would like to speak to you." Her tone was calm, not mean. I wasn't sure how to respond. I took the note and the hall pass and made my way to the office. The lady at the front desk read it, nodded solemnly, and led me around the back of the office.

Glancing left, I saw several rows of file cabinets against each other. They covered up a large patch of floor.

The lady took me around corners and back. Far back till the lights grew a little dim. I stepped hesitantly. The floor slopped downward as if it were dipping towards the basement. I was about to say something when she stopped at an unmarked door and opened it. She said something quick through the threshold and leaned back to look at me. She pushed the door open and beckoned me through.

Inside, I saw a small office. It was dark gray. Pipes arched out of the walls and dove back in. Large tubs sat around with strange logos and wide warnings. Boxes were piled in every corner. The air tasted nasty in my throat and burned a little.

Atop some of the boxes, I saw small animals. Raccoons, rabbits, and chipmunks. They were all stuffed and set in angry poses with their teeth flared.

At a small desk with a tall, black chair, sat a man with a dark, greasy beard framing his narrow cheek bones. The lady closed the door behind me.

I swallowed and asked, "Hello?"

The man glanced up at me. His eyes were colorless gray and his hair was short and looked slick with sweat. He moved so slowly and stiffly that he seemed almost like a wind-up man. Bit by bit, his lip drew up in what felt like a sneer. He stared at me and said, in a rasp that sounded like water settling in a massive tank, "Got your lunch box."

As he bent behind the desk, the room gave a little creak. I noticed there was something dark at his feet. I caught a glimpse of dense, black fur. With a heavy hand, he placed something on the table. It shook and rattled. I leaned back in surprise.

As he pulled his arm away, I saw my lunch box sitting there. It was mangled from one end to the other, cut so that it looked like a band of ribbons sliced only part ways through. The ends fanned out with a slight curl.

He added, "Don't think you'll be using it though." Then, he gave a laugh like an anguished cough. He spasmed in place with a bit of twisted teeth showing. Then he gave a heavy grunt, turned away, and said, "That's all…Go."

I nodded. I wanted to ask if he was working last night. I wanted to ask if he had a dog there. I wanted to know if he saw me…if he tried to scare me when I got trapped in the school. But, more than any of those wants was the primal desire to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible.

I never saw that strange man or learned if he was some sort of janitor or custodian. When it had been a long enough time that I could really think about that night, I only saw a nice old lady with dense white hair occupy that room.

I still don't know what to think, but that's my story, as best as I can recall and tell it.

One thing I can be sure of though, I made sure from that day on that I never did anything which meant a time-out in the closet…ever again.