In high school, I had a friend named Eric. Eric was a year older than me with no siblings. He lived a block away and some days we would go to his house to do homework. His parents got home late so we usually had the place to ourselves. The privacy was nice but it left the home quiet.
Most days we’d finish our work and play videogames but sometimes we’d find some sort of adventure to go on. One day Eric didn’t want to do our usual activities. I asked him what he had in mind and I’ll never forget his reply.
“Let’s talk to the ghost.”
Not wanting to seem chicken, I decided to play along.
“How do we do that?”
He told me his house was inhabited by a spirit that could be found in most homes. It was called a “Kikimora” , it had introduced itself to him one day. Of course, I didn’t believe him and I told him so. Eric said he’d show me then went off behind the fridge in the kitchen. When he came back he held a dirty sticky pad with a dead mouse glued to the surface.
“Follow me” he spoke before walking towards his dark basement. At the top of the stairs, he knelt with his hand holding the dead mouse in the darkness between the steps.
“KIKIMORAAAA” He called in a almost song-like voice. Something in the shadows shifted almost immediately. He looked at me with his hand still held out. “She’s not a bad spirit” he laughed and looked into the dark. “She just doesn’t like sunlight. Most of them stay in basements. This one likes the mice I feed her”
The sound of movement echoed downstairs again, then a sick chewing sound started. Eric smiled.
“She’s eating it! Come here, if you look now you might-” he stopped waving me forward, his face flushed pale at the sound of a louder crunch. A whimper escaped his lips and he lifted his hand up and held it out. The white of bones peaked out of his now fingerless stubs. Chewing continued from below as drips of red splattered the floor. Then his throat-ripping screams filled the house.
I remember stumbling back onto my butt, scooting away from him as he screamed. I managed to trip my way to the main door and shut it behind me. The wood didn’t block the sounds of pain from inside. I ran until I got to my house and didn’t stop until I was in my closet. Once behind the coat hangers, I blacked out.
Eric was committed after that and his family moved. I didn’t get a chance to speak to him again but recently I’ve been thinking about it. When he said the “kikimora” live in most homes, I didn’t want to believe him. But lately, I’ve been hearing it, waiting in the darkness. If you listen, you might too. Be careful if you feed it.
Source – Reddit
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