Are You Afraid of the Dark?

[DyssalC]

Are we talking about spooky things that happened to us? OH shit we're talking about spooky things that happened to us.

Also, I hope you like words, because that's what I have. Words.

Code:

When I was 12 I found myself in quite a predicament. At the time I lived in a nice house that we had been doing some renovations on for a while, and spent most of my time playing video games. The room in which I played video games was a large entertainment room, with a huge TV and comfortable chairs. In the corner of the room there was a door, and behind the door there was a very small room that housed some sort of household utility, though what it was I do not know. The room was maybe 3x3 feet in size, and was lit by a single hanging light-bulb. I had never been particularly interested in this room, as it smelled like stagnant water and was uninteresting. However, on this particular day, I found myself fixated on this door.

On this particular day the handle to the door began to shake. At first it was a very slight shake, but quickly became a more violent one. Now, I was no stranger to horror. Horror was my genre, my thing, I loved it. Despite that, though, this was real to me. This door, that should have nothing inside of it besides a large machine, was violently shaking. In a moment I was overcome by two feelings: A sense of dread that made me was to be somewhere else very far away, and a sense of morbid curiosity that made me want to open the door. The curiosity won.

The door to the small room was white with a brass door knob, which also happened to have a lock on it. The door was currently unlocked, which made me feel uneasy. The handle was still shaking, and I had to know why. I gripped the doorknob firmly and could feel very slight vibrations coming from the other side. I gripped it tighter and began to pull, however the door didn't give. I tried again, a bit harder, yet still the door refused to move. Fed up, I grabbed it with both hands and leaned away from the door, using the strength of both my arms and legs to get the door open. After five seconds of this struggle the door gave would at the time I would say was one centimeter. I don't have a more precise measurement because after examining it for a moment it immediately receded right back into the door frame. With this came a very powerful feeling of something being wrong, one that propelled me through the room, out the door and up the stairs.

I sat upstairs and waited for my father to return home before even thinking about going back downstairs. I explained to him what had happened, and he almost immediately had an explanation. While renovating the downstairs he had hung his toolbelt on the inside doorknob of that door. He explained that when I pulled the door back the toolbelt must've swung in such a way that it pulled the door back into place. I tried telling him this didn't really explain any of what happened, but he ignored that and took me to the door. It was no longer shaking, and when my father went to open it it opened with ease. However, what was on the other side did not help calm me down. On the other side of the door was nothing. No toolbelt, no figure, nothing. My father made no comment besides "See, nothing there" before leaving me to my own devices.

Skip forward a month or so, I'm desperately searching for my favorite knife in my knife collection. After searching the whole house I end up at the door, still weary of previous events. I grip the doorknob, no vibrations. I open the door up with ease, no resistance. I flip on the hanging light, and spot something glinting behind the machine. When I reach back to grab it I am greeted by my missing knife.