Bravehearts; A short story - My Entry to #finishthestory

The Stairs

The darkness flowed into the basement stairwell as Jon opened the door. He paused, listening. Shit! They’re already asleep, he thought. His parents had gone to bed promptly at eleven thirty when the evening news was over. Usually he did his best to get into his room before they went to bed so he could avoid the situation he now found himself in. I knew I shouldn’t have tried to finish that bonus level! It was so easy to lose track of time in the basement hangout.

A tiny night light at the end of the kitchen counter illuminated a small spot on the floor beneath it, but otherwise the room was dark and still. In his mind he ran through the short path that would take him down the hallway, up the stairs and into his bedroom. All he had to do was turn the basement light off in the stairwell and walk through the darkness to get there. Keeping his hand firmly on the doorknob and taking a deep breath he flipped the switch. The stairwell light went out leaving him with after image shapes moving in front of his eyes. Deliberately he closed the door slowly so he wouldn’t wake anyone, and tried not to panic. Nothing to be afraid of, he thought, it’s just my house at night. The hinges creaked and the latch snapped shut with a jarring bang in the otherwise noiseless space.

Stay calm, there’s nothing to be afraid of. Stepping carefully, he made his way down the hallway. As he got closer he could see the faint yellow glow of the upstairs hallway light through the doorway to the next room where the stairs were. He paused, took a breath and continued. At the bottom of the stairs he looked up and saw the light. He hated that light. The dim yellow reflected off the walls, making the stairs and hallway appear dingy, rundown, dangerous.

With his first step on the stairs he felt the darkness close in behind him, lurking, waiting to see what he did next. Another step and he felt the pull of it, coaxing him to step back and let it take him. Stop being stupid. It’s just dark, there’s nothing there, he thought. He went up the next three steps quickly while trying to keep the panic at bay.

Tink, tink, thud. He stopped and turned around. Tink, tink. Waiting, he heard nothing else and rationalized the sounds as the house settling. But he looked at the bottom of the stairs, where the dark now consumed whatever light managed to escape down the stairwell. Nothing moved inside it, but he felt the pressure of it, reaching for him through gloomy light. Instinctively he knew it wasn’t bright enough to hold it back, that if he waited where he was, halfway up the stairs, the darkness would eventually reach him. He didn’t know what would happen if it did, but some part of him wanted to find out. The sane part screamed at him to run.

Jon flinched as a cold gust of air caressed his face. Wind! Inside a locked house. Impossible! This is not happening. There is nothing here. He gritted his teeth and with tightly shut eyes tried to think through the clouding panic gripping his heart. This was another attack...His medicine. He had forgotten to take his meds in the evening.

Shit! Shit! I shut the the alarm down and now... I should shout before this gets worse. BUT if I take the meds now I need to hold on for ten maybe twelve minutes till they kick in. Yes. So the meds were...on the side table just inside the door to the game room.

Jon closed his eyes and put both hands on his ears, a way he had invented to avoid the delusions temporarily. With his left elbow brushing the wall Jon started to climb back down slowly, feeling the way ahead with his toes before completing the step. "One step... Second Step..."

He was down. Jon breathed deeply and oriented himself towards the basement stairs. Taking his bearings from the elbow brushing the window frame and the curtain. With great focus he ignored the scratches that the ... thing hiding behind the curtain had given him, even though his injured elbow was aflame with pain.

No scratches are there, all this is just illusion. I can, I have to get to my meds.

All his muscles taut and sweat flowing from his forehead into his closed eyes Jon reached the stairs leading below. A new hope rose in his chest. He was only seven steps away from his meds. That is when he felt the creature brush his legs from behind and reflexively he tried to step away. Only to stumble on his own foot and then on the stair. Jon shouted out as he lost his balance, his hands left his ears in search of the wall for support. But only for a moment.

Screech, thunk click. click screech. Yeessss

The sounds were near and ominous. Jon had no choice but to close his ears. He tightly closed his eyes and ears and sat down where he was. Sobs of failure and fear burst from his throat and tears flowed freely. He sat there rocking on the steps. He shouted out when a hand closed on his wrist, jerking away with all his strength.

Molly watched his son, Jon, hit his head on the wall and tumble down the short flight of stairs. It broke her heart to see him in such a state, but this had happened before and Molly knew she would have to restrain Jon and make him swallow his meds. Jon was not bleeding and he was fully conscious, he held on to the door knob and was rocking back and forth. She turned to go wake up her husband- another row, another shouting match- she had to have help and Jon was worth all the trouble. When she reached the stairs she glanced back, the door of the basement room was open and Jon was not to be seen.

She ran back and reached the basement room in time to see Jon swallowing his meds. Mother and son looked at each other, both teary eyed, both proud, both sharing a special moment.

THE CONTEST: https://steemit.com/finishthestory/@bananafish/finish-the-story-week-63

PICTURE CREDIT: pixabay.com