The Old Woman

Tara knocks on someone's door to use their phone, and it is a nice, little old woman...or so she thinks. Copyright, 2015.

The Old Woman

 

         I am walking down a quiet street. No one is around, and I have my ear buds in my ears and I am humming a song as I walk. I am cheerful, but the setting is not cheerful at all. The sky is a charcoal gray; the houses I pass are shabby and peeling. Graffiti covers the sidewalks. It is then that I notice that everything is unnaturally deserted, that there is not one other person around. I had accidently walked too far and had ended up in the next town! I yank my ear buds out of my ears. The silence is deafening, the kind of silence where you can hear your own ears ringing.

         I uneasily keep on walking, no longer humming. It begins to grow dark. I realize that I am desperate to go home, but I don’t want to walk alone, I want to get picked up, so I turn to the nearest shabby house and walk up to the door. I rap on the door three times, and the sound is unnaturally loud to my ears. The door creaks open, revealing an old woman. She smiles sweetly at me. She has curled gray hair, glasses, and wears a housedress and slippers. It looks like I got lucky and picked a safe house. “Hello,” I say, “I would like to use your phone, if that is okay with you?” She says nothing, just nods, and gestures for me to enter the house.

         I do, and immediately smell something foul. Like rotting meat and old potpourri. The woman gestures to a dark kitchen, still not speaking.  “Is there a light I can turn on?” I ask. The woman laughs, and it is a terrible sound, like nails on a chalkboard, a hoarse cackle.  I have no choice. I can’t leave now. I go into the kitchen, feel around for a light, and find none. The phone’s red answering machine glows, and I see that the old woman has 1,000 new messages. Doesn’t she ever check her machine? I wonder.

         I pick up the phone. Try to dial, but my fingers feel too thick. I drop the phone. “Cookies, dear?” I jump, but it is just the woman, holding a plate of lumpy cookies in her wrinkled hand. “Oh, I-No thank you,” I stammer. “I insist!” she says, shoving the cookies at me. I take one and take a bite. I gag. They are hard as a rock and taste disgusting.

         The woman looks at me expectantly. “Yum, very tasty,” I lie. “Have you finished your phone call?” she asks. I had not, but I nod, start for the front door. The smell is getting stronger, and I try to breath through my mouth. “I don’t think you did, Tara,” she says. She knows my name. I had never told her my name. “My mother’s on her way. Thank you for letting me use your phone,” I say, hurrying towards the door.

         The old woman is fast. She blocks my way. “What’s the hurry, young lady?” she asks. I gasp. “Please let me go home,” I whisper. “I can’t let you do that, Tara. No, if I let you do that, I would be disappointing It. It wouldn’t be happy if I let you go, no, not at all. She gestures to a door that I had just noticed now, it is taped up with black duct tape. Behind it, something growls, low and menacing. “Wh-what’s down there?” I ask. The old woman smiles. “You’ll see soon enough.”

         She pushes me towards the door, she is very strong. I fight back, kicking and yelling. “Help!” I scream. We grapple for a moment, and I finally manage to scratch her on her face. She growls, releasing me, and I take the opportunity to run. I run as fast as I can, straight out the door and back onto the quiet street. I run for my life, knowing she was behind me. What if she finds me? How did she know my name?

         I finally reach my house. I burst in. “Mom!” I yell, “Mom! She’s after me.” “What’s that, dear?” my mom calls from the other room. “This old woman was chasing me. I asked to use her phone to call you, but she-“ I burst into the kitchen. There, sitting calmly at the table is my mother. But who’s that sitting next to her? How could that be? I scream. The old lady smiles at me. “Dear, we have company. This woman told me all about what you did today, that you offered to help her with her groceries, and she wants to hire you to help her every day! Isn’t that sweet?” 

Author's Note

Please read and review!

Reviews

[Harley Sapphire]

I love your use of the active tense! I think it is a bit choppy at first, but I don't know if that was on purpose, it seems quite styled. Active tense is so hard to write in, and like Stephen King says, it takes a lot of confidence to write in it! So good job! I'm impressed!

[Rachel]

Thanks so much! Yes, the choppiness was sort of on purpose. Please read and review my other stories if you have a chance!

[Pratik Mishra]

I was really creeped(I know this isn't a proper word)out when Tara was inside the old woman's house. So yeah, it's a good creepy story.....

[Rachel]

Thank you!

[Samuel Dickens]

Well, I think I might have to turn that job down. Very nice writing, Anon, but I feel you could tighten it up a bit. Rather than explain, I'll show you what I mean with these two sentences, which I've altered slightly--"It's then that I notice everything is unnaturally deserted, with not one other person around. I had accidently walked too far and ended up in the next town!"

[Rachel]

Thank you, I will alter this story a bit.