re: Want to help create a /r/nosleep story?

here's another one I recently wrote

"Don't Look in the Box"

There were large amounts of homes abandoned during the recession, and a popular pastime for delinquent youths was to break into these places, explore, vandalize and party. One group of teens was particularly fond of the fancier neighborhoods, as those tended to be the most exciting to ransack and rummage through, big McMansions left behind by investment bankers and executives who lost it all when the market tanked, their false riches evaporated and the reality of their immense mortgages forcing them to flee their palatial estates ahead of impending foreclosure.

One day, three such disaffected youths, Daniel, Joel, and Scott were making their way through a neighborhood they had not noticed before when they spied an ridiculously large house set far back from the main road. Surrounded by a tall, wrought iron fence that was gradually being overtaken by rust and vines, the big padlock chaining the double gates together the only thing that seemed to have escaped the ravages of time. The winding drive was covered in a thick carpet of leaves and branches, and what could be seen of the house looked dilapidated and in disrepair...and a prime destination for the group's particular brand of exploring.

The chain on the gate seemed solid, and the fence too high to scale, so the teens decided to try and find another way around. Cutting through some trails through the wooded area that bordered the back of the neighborhood, they made their way through the heavy underbrush, ditching their bikes when the thickets got too dense, and going the rest of the way on foot until they found that same imposing iron fence. The lock on the back gate was less substantial and after prying at it with a crowbar, they were able to slip through the small space, entering an immense back yard that had long been given over to small trees and tall grass, and vines clambered up sun-bleached brick walls, trying desperately to enter dusty windows framed with peeling shutters.

A large pool was in the back, its still waters a deep shade of impenetrable black-green. Mold covered patio furniture and pool toys, a noodle disintegrating when Scott picked it up. "Looks like the grounds crew took the week off," Joel quipped, kicking a lounge chair into the murky water, the wet splash spraying algae on their shoes as it sunk into the blackness. "And to think I forgot my trunks." The boys laughed nervously as they went to the back of the house, looking for an easy way in. They peered through darkened windows, rubbing away the thick layer of dust that coated the panes. Inside, nothing moved. "This should be good," Daniel grunted, forcing the wedge of the crowbar into the latch between two French doors. After a second, the metal groaned and gave an audible "POP!" as the lock gave way and swung open, revealing a sight that quickly told them they were not the first ones to have this idea.

The interior of the house was massive, with high, vaulting ceilings. What furniture was left had been overturned and smashed and piled haphazardly into what seemed to be some sort of barricade on one side of the room, looking as if the house had been turned on its side at some point. Ruddy brown paint smeared the walls, symbols that seemed to have been painted with old clothes and rags. "Guess we missed the invite to the party," Daniel chuckled as he swung his crowbar at a glass topped coffee table. It shattered with a satisfying tinkle. "Let's see if there's anything left worth taking."

The three made their way upstairs and found the rooms there ransacked in a similar fashion, drawers dumped out and mattresses slit, their stuffing entrails in scattered piles along with clothes and books. Joel opened a closet only to have an avalanche of old magazines fall on him. "National Geographic" Scott mused, helping Joel up from the dusty pile, "not even good tits in these." They picked over the rest of the rooms, smashing what hadn't already been smashed before heading back downstairs to see what else the house had to offer.

In the far corner of the kitchen they found a pantry stocked with old canned goods and weevil infested boxes of cereal. They took turns playing baseball with the cans, splattering the walls and tiles with a mixture of tomato sauce and vegetables until it looked like a Jackson Pollack painting. Reaching for another projectile in the pantry, Scott gave a startled whoop that caused the others to stop their destruction. "There's some sort of handle back here," he said, shining his flashlight to see what exactly he had found. He tugged on it, and after a moment of resistance, the back wall of the pantry slid back to reveal a staircase leading down into the darkness. "Jackpot," Daniel smirked, sending his beam downward, revealing what appeared to be a wine cellar, "Looks like they didn't find everything. Let's get wasted." Joel and Scott exchanged a glance that was both apprehensive and mischievous, then followed Daniel as he made his way into the basement.

Indeed, the previous explorers had /not/ found everything. Racks upon racks of wine bottles lined the darkened cellar, the three beams of the flashlights darting to and fro, kicked up dust dancing in the yellow light. They found an old hurricane lantern and tried to light it. On the third attempt it sputtered and dispelled the nearby darkness with warm torchlight, making the teens feel like Indiana Jones. They found a corkscrew on a table and opened up a bottle for each of them, drinking deeply from the green glass as they laughed and reveled in their newfound discovery.

Their laughter ceased immediately as they heard a rustle from the other end of the room, flashlights swinging in tandem towards the source of the sound. "Who's there!?", Daniel's voice reached out into the darkness, his bravado tinged with an undercurrent of fear.

No answer. Movement again, this time louder. Lantern and flashlights illuminated the corner of the cellar as the three inched closer, ready to run. A box shifted and out crept a large brown rat. The tension eased at this innocuous monster and the teens breathed a sigh of relief, each taking a long swig from their bottles to calm their now shaky nerves. "Just a stupid rat. What'd you think it was Joel, the boogeyman? You damn near pissed your pants." Daniel taunted. Then all three screamed as a stack of boxes tumbled and the sound of shattering glass filled the basement, echoing off the walls, mingling with their terrified cries. A black shape shot out from the corner and let loose a screech and the three turned to flee, but ran into each other, coming down in a tangled heap, their own wine bottles breaking on the floor. "Run!" Scott wailed, his voice wavering with no hint of bravery, "it's gonna get us!"

The beam of a dropped flashlight rolled across the shed its light on the beast. Casting a great black shadow on the stone wall. A cat hissed at this annoyance and returned to it's meal, the brown body of the rat flopping as the big tom tore into it. The terror filled cries that had consumed the group turned into uneasy sighs, then laughter at their own fright. "Just...a...frickin'...cat," Joel exclaimed breathlessly, bringing himself into a sitting position. "What...a...pussy," Scott groaned, kicking Daniel off of him, "I thought you weren't scared of anything Dan."
Daniel rolled over, his white shirt now a soaking wet mess of deep crimson. "Damn glass cut me!" he sat up and looked down at his hand, blood oozing from a wound across his palm. "Did it get you in the chest?" asked Joel when he saw the dark spot on Daniel's shirt.
"No, that's just the wine." Daniel sighed, picking the glass out of his palm, "still, no excuse for alcohol abuse." The three chuckled faintly, dissipating their unease.