The Drain is a short scary real ghost story about a young boy who encounters something hideous lurking in a little room off his bedroom. It is believed to be a true story.
When I was about 10 or 11, my family lived in a three-story house. My bedroom was on the top floor. It was small, square and simple. There was a glass door in my bedroom that led into a small brick room. There was no ceiling on this room and there was an opening in the roof above that extended to the open air.
There was nothing in this little room, just a drain in the middle of the floor. It was probably put there to allow the rainwater to drain away. There was something about the drain bothered me. Whenever I saw it, I felt sick to my stomach. Once, I even thought I saw the drain cover jiggle slightly when I opened the door.
There always seemed to be a chill in the air whenever I opened the door to that little brick room. I oinly ever had the nerve to open the door in broad daylight and then only to take a quick peek inside. Even though the sun was blazing outside, it was always deathly cold in the brick room.
The memory of what happened in that room still haunts me and plagues my dreams from time to time.
Shortly after I moved into that bedroom, I started having very bad dreams. One night, I had a particularly horrifying nightmare and I awoke with the feeling that something was terribly, terribly wrong.
Immediately, my eyes darted to the door. I lay there in bed, afraid to move, but unable to look away from the door in case there might be something there when I looked back.
That was when I first heard the whispering noise. It sounded a wire brush softly rubbing against something. It wasnâ€™t coming from any discernable direction, but it seemed to gradually surround me like a blanket, pressing on my ears.
Eventually, I managed to fall asleep, but the next morning, I swore I could make out footprints in the dust around the drain in the little brick room.
After that, the whispering rarely stopped at night. It was always there, from the time I switched off the light until I finally managed to fall asleep. Often, Iâ€™d wake up in the middle of the night and find the room completely silent. Then, the whispering would start, as if it had just been waiting until I was awake.
Over the next few months, the whispering continued. It was just a hollow â€œkissshhh sshhhaww hissshhh asshhhâ€ that seemed to repeat over and over. It didnâ€™t sound angry or sad. It was always just there.
Then one night, something happened. I still have nightmares about this incident and it makes me cringe and want to curl up in a ball whenever I recall it.
I awoke from a terrible nightmare. The moonlight was barely filtering in through the window. I looked at the door to the little brick room and that’s when I saw it. To my utter horror, I could make out something lurking in there.
As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw that it was a woman. She had dark curly hair and pale white skin. Her eyes were completely black and filled with anger and hatred.
Suddenly, she began shrieking and pounding on the glass door with both fists. Her head started swiveling around on her neck, shaking back and forth like a kettle on a stick. Her hair tossed around violently and the skin around her mouth flapped loosely, giving me glimpses of her teeth and tongue. Saliva dripped from the corners of her mouth and flew off as she shrieked.
I was terrified and all I could do was let out a high-pitched scream. As I screamed, she shrank back from the door and… ugh… slithered down the drain somehow. Her body was twisted and distorted and I swear I could hear her bones splintering and cracking as she wound herself down into the drain.
My father came charging down the hallway to my bedroom, thinking I was having a nightmare. When he got to the door, the drain lady was already gone. It was awful and to this day, my father says heâ€™s never heard anyone scream so inhumanely before. I often ask him jokingly if he meant from me or her.