Moving Boxes is a stupid story about two boys, a woman and some boxes in the basement she needs to have moved. Any further explanation would be futile.
I was staying over at my friend Kevin’s house. We were watching a horror movie on TV. Kevin’s little brother, Martin, came into the room and asked if he could watch too.
“No, you’re too little”, said Kevin as he kicked Martin in the head and pushed him out the door.
An hour later, Kevin and I were playing outside when we heard a strange noise. It sounded like a hurt animal. We walked around, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from. After a few minutes, we had pinpointed the source of the noise. It was coming from the basement.
We ran inside and told Kevin’s mother what we had heard. She said that we should all go down into the basement and check it out. As soon as Kevin’s mom opened the basement door, the strange noise stopped. She listened for a few minutes and told us that she didn’t hear anything.
Then Kevin’s mom told us she needed to move a big box in the basement and asked us to help her.
“No way, I’m not doing that”, said Kevin as he kicked his mom in the head and slammed the basement door.
Two hours later, were in bed playing cards when Kevin’s dad got home. Kevin’s mom came into the bedroom with milk and cookies for us. Kevin told her to send his dad up to the bedroom because he wanted to kick him in the head. She said she would send him up after he finished moving the box in the basement for her.
About 20 minutes later, Kevin yelled downstairs, asking his mom where his dad was. She said he was still moving the box but she would go down to the basement and see what was taking him so long.
10 minutes later, we heard a horrible scream. We got out of bed and ran down to the basement. When we switched on the light, we saw a horrible sight. Kevin’s dad lay crushed underneath a huge box and his mom was sprawled in a pool of blood at the bottom of the stairs. All her insides had been torn out.
We saw hand prints in the blood. Then we heard the sound of munching coming from under the stairs.
Trembling, we turned around to see Kevin’s little brother, Martin, chomping on his mother’s entrails.