Short Story: I dare you

So, it’s Halloween tomorrow, it’s come around so fast so here’s a short story I wrote to get you in the spirit.


“Leila? Leila, please can we leave? This place looks so creepy. It feels like my skins crawling,” Isla shuddered involuntarily, drawing her coat closer around her torso. She dismissed the dubious feeling that resided in the pit of her stomach, should she really be here; here where she felt unclean. This wasn’t going to end well.

Hastily, Isla shied away from Leila’s on coming reply. “Let’s check it out!”, Isla desperately tussled for an excuse to escape however; being friends with Leila was like being friends with a celebrity you loved. You were expected to cater to their every need. Preparing herself to go up to the house she cursed the stupid dare game under her breath. Soon after, too soon, they arrived at the house; ironically the doors were already open, beckoning.


“Go in I dare you.” A ghostly grin played across Leila’s lips, her stark cheek bones rising in a certain way – this certain way meant trouble. Fearless, nothing could unhinge Leila; she was incredibly sardonic about situations like this one.


“Only if you come with me?”


“Yeah, sure” Leila replied – with no intention of actually entering the house. “I’ll just be right here sitting on those steps” and with that Isla was gone.

Isla was stood in a field. Nothing was in this field except a house, but this house looked to be miles away, where was the house she’d just been in? Grass like thick strands of hair emerged from the grounds surface. Feverishly, it began to grow weaving together and around each other curling and caging her feet.

Isla could not move.

Ravenous night birds swooped around her getting higher and lower, narrowly skimming her body. Isla fell forward and tried desperately to untie the snaking grass. More and more crows began to soar even lower trying to peck at Isla’s paling skin. Cleverly, she moved a piece of grass into the place of her skin, the beaks of the birds cut the grass and finally Isla was free.

Isla darted towards the white house. Bone white with charcoal patches, the house looked vaguely Victorian; it was three stories high and was blanketed by shadows.

Determined, she tried to open the doors and windows to the house, if she could get inside soon she could escape the murder of crows. None opened. Beneath her feet was a door which led underground. Hurriedly, she opened the doors and gaped down.




Turning back around to see how close the murder was seemed like a good idea, but now the grass and the birds were gone… In its place was vast plain of a sandy path. Pivoting back to the steps she slowly descended, she needed to sit down in a safe place to gather her thoughts together.


Once inside the basement she sank to the ground sobbing. Without looking properly she closed and locked the door, the key fell from the lock and landed in the dark shadows on the concrete floor. Isla turned to look at what had fallen and eventually her vision reappeared. The blurred circles has disappeared from her eyes while they adjusted to the bitter almost darkness of the room. The only light in the room was directly in the centre, the dim light shone directly over a long wooden table. Thick leather material was attached at the ends of the table and at the halfway point. Harsh, pained, raspy moans filled the devouring silence. More tears trickled down the teenagers face; she was living her worst nightmare. Finally, pulling herself together she cradled herself and hesitantly ascended the wall using the walls of the basement. The walls were not smooth but had a slight rocky texture to it; along the wall was a thick blanket of liquid. However, Isla was aware of this – she put the strange feeling in the pit of her stomach down to her currently unreliable mind, it was probably just her tears staining her hands. As she made her way upwards she tried to shake off her growing terror. Quivering, she walked over towards the centre of the room. Using the dim light she squinted at the walls of the room trying to locate a door. On the opposite side of the way she entered was a wooden door which almost blended in with its surroundings. The moans continued to disrupt the bellowing silence.


“One, two, three.” She whispered. “You can do this, come on Isla, you can do this” Hesitantly, she finally reached the door. What was inside was abhorrent, completely dumbfouding. Isla’s heartbeat raced as if was in a dark symphony. A light was already flickering in the middle of the room.  Skimming and scanning she located another door. Her eyes widened in realisation, the moaning had stopped.

Beneath her feet was nothing but bloody skin. Isla could see no actual bodies, only the skin of them as if they’d just unzipped their skin and stepped out of it leaving it behind. The remaining tissues were mainly a plethora of adults but she could see a few children in the ghastly mix, maybe even babies.

Isla stepped further into the room so that she could inspect the ominous door, as she walked forward the door slammed behind her pushing her onto the heap of bodies. Isla’s heart stopped, sweat caked her forehead, her pellucid tears fell onto the skin underneath her, mixing with the blood – making it roll in a thin watery steam. Recovering her breath she crawled over the bodiless towards the end door, Isla knew the previous door had locked when she heard a slight click. Mould and decay inflamed her olfactory organs. Bile threatened to rise up, Isla’s cold sweat was rapidly altering towards a fever, she was too afraid to feel anything, and everything inside her was numb. Deciding to leave her tears in this room she wiped her face dry and prepared herself to seek the source of the raspy moans. Listening carefully to the wall Isla could hear hoarse breathing; she knew this time that the creature was in the room just next door.

Click. The wooden door gently edged forwards into the room, knocking a light switch once fully opened. Without thinking Isla lowered herself down the stairs, clutching the banister for support.


Eventually, she had to look down at some point, she however, just chose the wrong time.


“Leila?” Isla screamed. “Leila? Stop, help me!” But Leila did not stop. Leila grabbed at Isla’s ankles, pulling her down. As Isla sunk down towards the steps her mind wearily sunk out of consciousness.


Leila did not look like Leila, but some how Isla knew.


A five foot creature covered in blistering domes skated in short but quick movements along the floor. Its nails scraped the floorboards etching a trail beneath its hands. Long, flowing brown hair had become short white tufts with stalks springing out of her pale, floury, corpse like head. Leila’s blue eyes intensely injected themselves into your soul, looking for your greatest fears. Every inch of her visible body was covered in infection.


When Isla woke up and left the darkness behind she searched her surroundings. When she saw the hideous creature laying by the doorway she realised Leila’s legs were gone.




Where her knee caps were all that was now visible was black criss-cross stitching. Blood surrounded the empty areas of her legs, Isla felt nothing but terror and sorrow towards Leila.

A few, endless, hounding seconds after Isla had woken up was all the realisation she needed. The creature glided across the floor and pounced. Isla tried to slide away. But she could not. Her hands were tied to the table in the first room of the basement, her arms were tied above her head, and there was absolutely no way Isla could escape.

I bet you’re wondering how I know this, how I know this story in such great detail. Obviously, others had been swallowed up by the house but why this one? Easy, this one was special. The house became your fears,whatever they may have been. My only fear in that place was to become the house.

Go on in. I dare you.



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