Scratch

Here is my scary story...

One day a boy called Tim (NOT MY NAME) was walking down the high street of Polegate at night on his way home from school. Above the stars twinkled, the thick clouds drifted slowly by and the full moon shined brightly. There was a strong wind whistling, echoing through the lonely night. Not one car passed by for a long time. Not one person walked by except for Tim. To the left the row of shops stood, abandoned for the night. Not a light showed in a window for miles. Polegate was never normally like this. The only light was the moon, stars, and the flickering street lamps. Suddenly, a bell started ringing. Not a harsh, long-lasting tone that you'd expect from a church, but a brief, sharp, high pitched ding. Tim recognised it as the Level Crossing. Soon enough, the paint-scraped gates swung slowly down and clanged into position. It wasn't long before a train slid quietly into the station and out without a trace. Tim walked up the stairs leading to the row of shops. The first one displayed an old sign that read: STRINGTOWN SUPPLIES, in a dull manor. A light flicked on inside the shop and the closed sign flipped round to open. Tim didn't see a hand flip it round though. He opened the door slowly. As he entered the shop, a bell hung down on a string rung loudly. Outside the perilous wind blew the door shut with a loud click and Tim was in the shop, looking around curiously. The shop was kind of messy. Clothes were clumsily hung down right from the ceiling, leaving no gap. An eerie shop dummy hid beneath the clothes in military gear. All around was the familiar camouflauge colours; green, mud brown, dark yellow and dark green. To the right were three piled shelves. On them stood a various number of foam heads wearing hats. Beneath the shelves lay boxes piled with stock, a large variety of stock. From nets to tennis balls, from torches to hats and imflatable boats, from pellets to model guns, the shop had it all. What seemed like miles down in front of Tim, stood a chipped old wooden desk with a till covered in labels and glowsticks. No one stood behind the till though. There was a shuffle a foot away in the shadow of the clothes were no light shone. Tim swung round instantly to find nothing. He swerved round to the till and looked up and down. There was a small red button on the base of the desk. He pressed it and a loud buzz came from below. To Tim's surprise a fleet of stairs was hidden behind a wall beside the till. Dare he enter? Knowing Tim, he placed a foot on the top stair. Knowing typical life, the lights began to flicker and eventually went out altogether. At the bottom of the stairs, a torch placed on a pile of boxes was left on. So Tim thumped down the stairs and grabbed the torch, his heart beating fast. At the landing, a grudgy slide-open door stood to the right. Know Tim was scared. He reached for the handle and slid it open. Tim stared into the unfathomable gloom that lay before him. Using the torch, he discovered he was in a long corridor, with three rooms to the right. All of the doors were shut and locked. Realising this, Tim made his way down the corridor, breathing heavily and sweating. He made out a store room. A pathway lead around a large rack covered in boxes, clothes, unused stock and more. Before Tim was a corner. A treachorous, dark-eaten corner. (SCARY MUSIC COMES ON) Around the edges was the same heap of boxes etc. The ceiling was low in this point, and was made of slowly crumbling brick. Despite considering what normally happens when someone turns a corner on their own at night, Tim bravely rounded the corner and froze dead. Nothing was there.  Well, at least that's what it seemed. A metre or two in front of Tim stood another deadly corner. Tim froze still. If something was there he was trapped. He was in the middle of two dark corners, clutching on to the torch as if it was all that was left of him. Tim stared straight ahead of him, wondering however he'd get out this if there was something there. But there was. There was a shuffle around the new corner. A shadow slid into view on the boxes straight on. Tim froze on the spot and watched in fear as the beast rounded the corner and devoured him.

The next day, Jane was stood at the Level Crossing in Polegate High Street, waiting for the train to pass so she could get to work. Eventaually, it did and Jane happily stepped over the tracks and walked up the stairs. As she approached the shop, someone else went out, leaving an eerie trail of door-bell noises behind him. Jane entered the shop. She glanced to the left and noticed that the dummy in military gear had dissapeared. She walked down to the till and swung her bag round her shoulder and flung it onto the desk. The old deskchair sat there waiting for here. And as she did everyday, she slumped into it and let her bank sink into the bit that was made for the back, and rubbed her feet in boredom. Then as much expected, the phone rang. Jane trudged over to the over desk to pick it up. "Hello this is Stringtown Supplies how can I help?", there was a long pause before the answer came. "Go down to the cellar, to the basement, right to the bottom." Then there was a click and the phone hung up. She took a note of the mysterious number and called her workmate. "Clive? Clive!" She waited for the answer but it didn't come. She called again, and rang the buzzer: "Clive! CLIVE!", eventually the answer came. Clive ran up the stairs, rounded the corner and stared at Jane. His face was as white as a sheet, his hands were behind his back. Jane screamed as he lifted up a head, the eyes still open, and jaw still in an endless scream...

Who killed the headless person? Find out in the next part...

Notes: Stringtown Supplies is a real place in the real high street of the real polegate in east sussex. Look up polegate high street on google maps!

Last edited by HumanLight (2010-08-09 09:00:17)