Crawlspaces

True Stories | Jun 9, 2014 | 4 min read
64 Votes, average: 4 out of 5
I got away just in time. A second later and I am certain my tragic tale would've joined the increasing reports of the grisly happenings around town and fitted seamlessly with the mysterious, gruesome patterns.
My house, like many others in my estate and beyond, is a bungalow behind a small lawn. Unlike all others however, I'd incorporated crawlspaces accessible through all the compartments within—two rooms (my bedroom and study), a kitchen cum dining, the bathroom and the parlour. Serving in the military's vanguard in Normandy had inculcated rigorous vigilance in me, had tuned my senses to register danger's wavelength. Therefore I'd included the crawlspace in the building's design in case of situations beyond my handling—worst of which I'd considered would be a sudden overrun of armed, uncouth youths on a rampaging demonstration. I am an old man; I just wanted to enjoy my remaining lives. And limbs—I lost my right leg in the war, got a plastic replacement just last year.
But the situation that'd plagued the town was beyond anyone's handling, or even understanding. Until tonight. And yet it needs no small measure of elucidation.
A month ago it'd started, reported by Sheriff James Halliday. We had this relationship where he kept very little from me, something about respect and an aspiration he'd done little to withhold from me. He kept me in eminent esteem. The Robinsons on Hadley Crescent were found dead by the kids' schoolteacher following two days of absence. Their corpses had undergone some severe form of mephistophelean abuse: punctured holes polluted every inch of their flesh, and they were mangled and deflated. Like a burst balloon. Not a bead of moisture was found in them during the autopsy. They had been sucked dry, evidently through the orifices that riddled them. But by what? Two weeks later, Roman Wellfeller, the hermit on Wise avenue followed. Then Isaac Lopez and his wife, Lucy. Then the Gregors. The Gregors was just four days ago. Unlike the rest, they were probably outdoors when they had been Suctioned. They were found in their van right on their driveway, doors unlocked with no symptoms of forced entry. Like the perpetrator of the despicable deeds had committed them inside the van with the family or outside the vehicle then had taken them inside. No prints were recovered save the family's, no alien footprints on their sandy garden. All attacks had happened at night, between the hours of ten and twelve. The townspeople were already panicking. A riot wasn't far away, as if it would help things any. I tried to take everything smoothly but warily. I tried to convince myself that there was a rational explanation. That that rational explanation could take a bullet. I served in the forefront of the warfront. No worries. I succeeded in the self-persuasion.
My august visitor aboveground has completely modified my perspective.
I was half-asleep tonight when my sixth-sense picked the signal: a sudden, diffusing iciness in the atmosphere. Gripping my Luger and smaller Glock from beneath my pillow, both fully-loaded, I tiptoed to my bedroom door, opened it a crack and looked out.
What my eyes met was outside the bounds of natural convention. I was transfixed by an otherworldly phenomenon, gripped by a nightmarish thing. I doubt there is any reasonable account and description for what I saw but here…
The form was blacker than the night it had come from, like a substantial shadow risen from the ground, like a mesomorphic personage of blackened flesh and black entrails and black body fluids and black skeleton. I cannot say if it was clothed or naked but if naked, then it was genderless too. The sole feature upon its face was a large, lopsided eye, so large it stretched from forehead to chin and had a monstrously red pupil that wandered in all directions with an avid rapidity. Tattooed on its body from chest to knees were mouth-parts filled with vampiric fangs.
The abomination stood there, in my living room, sensing (I believe my blood), searching for me. Then its fiery pupil rested on me, caught me through my little crack. I fled.
My bedroom's access to my aforementioned crawlspace was via a trapdoor beneath my bed. I didn't make time or waste some lifting the bed. I dived under straightway, found myself down here in seconds.
Although, I may have caused a racket while forcing the trapdoor open and I may have slammed it shut. But I don't believe I was followed.
I can escape through the front later.
Or go back then circle around, be circumspect. The hideous predator might be waiting on my lawn.
But in the meantime, I will remain down here where it's safe. If I could survive for six days without food and water in a bunker while the enemy routed half my platoon above, I think this won't be as overly difficult.
~~~

Oklahoma County News
Panic as death toll rises in Midwich county
By Lance Inglethorpe
Tuesday, 20th October, 2015 08:00:50 AM
A series of gruesome and unexplained deaths has led to a state of upheaval and revolt among the county dwellers as the police yet again fails to unmask the culprit behind the morbid killings of no fewer than seven citizens. County chief, James…
See more>>
Source: The Midwich Insider

~~~

The Midwich Insider
Another joins the growing ranks of the dead
Friday, 10/16/2015

Friday, October 16, 2015
No one can better explain the bizarre incidents going on around town better than the county patrol, but they themselves are at an utter loss as to the identity(-ies) of the perpetrator(s) of the heinous murders that has raked town.
Two nights ago, the serial murderer(s) claimed what will be their twelfth recorded victim. Rtd. Officer Milton Williamson was found dead in a compartment beneath his house in the early-morning hours of Thursday. The signature of the killer(s) was evident: flaccid, mutilated remains and unnatural orifices. Neighbours suggest he met his gruesome end sometime around the hours of three and five A.M.

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Kaitlynn.clutter555 Jul 17, 2018

Good story, but there's missing detail of his death. How did his demise happen?

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