Little Steven
by Graham Mathew Scott
Genre: Horror/Supernatural
Swearwords: A couple of strong ones.
Description: Ghost-hunting can be boring. It can also be dangerous... very dangerous.
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It was the third abandoned building we explored that night. This one was a house. It was down some old farm lane, a one story kind of bungalow. Looked like it had always been cheap and ill used. Now only just a wreck of broken windows and a sagging porch painted in grime and dust. Probably wasn’t much to look at in the first place, even when it was new.
I could say we didn’t know what we were looking for, but really, we did. However if we thought we would really find what we were really looking for I’m sure none of us would have been looking. We were looking for a scare. We found it.
By the time we found the house it was getting pretty late at night, somewhere close to midnight by then. The first two buildings were nothing special, one was a kind of warehouse factory where we threw rocks through what was left of the windows and the other was an old shop with apartments above that we didn’t dare venture into because of rotted stairs. Both were dull and devoid of anything but our own jokes and laughter.
The house was strange. We almost drove by it but something weird happened that made us stop. Both Mike and Jaqueline’s compass turned and pointed at it as soon as we got close and held it on the needle tip as the car cruised past.
“Wait,” Caroline said.
I slowed the car to a stop.
“Back up,” Jaqueline said. “My compass is pointing at that little house.”
“Mine too,” said Mike.
I looked in the rearview. I could see the small dark shape just off the road. I hesitated. Not because I was scared but because I was tired, and kind of bored. Ghost hunting is often real boring, unless you’re drinking, which I wasn’t cuz I was driving so like I said, real boring. Of course my friends all had a nice buzz going so they didn’t think so. Jeff and Caroline were pretty much just making out the whole time and couldn’t give a rat’s ass where we were, Mike thought everything was funny cuz he was also puffing back joint after joint, and Jaqueline was right into the ghost shit. She kept talking about books she read and how energies stay in places and how entities sometimes revealed themselves in the right conditions and blah blah blah. The whole thing was kinda getting on my nerves. I wanted a beer, I didn’t want to stop again. Getting out of the car I told myself this would be the last place. Seems it was one place too many.
I reversed the car and parked in the dirt driveway next to the house. It was dark that night but for some reason when we pulled up next to the place the night seemed to get darker, almost black. Like the little dump itself was sucking any light the stars might give right out of the heavens. I think I was the only one that noticed it. Everyone else was a little drunk, and really I only noticed it half-heartedly. I only note it now because of what happened.
The front door was boarded up. There were thick slats across the doorframe and the door itself was nailed shut. We found an entrance around the side that didn’t even have a door anymore. The doorway opened on a little landing. One set of stairs went up and the other set went down. Funny, by looking at the front of the little bungalow you wouldn’t think it was big enough to have a basement.
Caroline and Jeff were still in the car, kissing.
“Are you two coming?” Jaqueline yelled to them.
“We’ll be right there,” Caroline answered barely taking her face away from Jeff’s.
“Let’s go,” Mike said. And with that his flashlight was on and he was through the doorway into the house.
Jaqueline and I followed. We entered a little kitchen. There was still a sink but the counter was mostly smashed and there were broken bottles everywhere. Looked like someone had done a lot of drinking there. Mike wandered ahead while I followed Jaqueline, I was only really there for her anyway. She took her time shining her light all over, she found every little broken dust covered thing interesting. She held a running commentary, like I couldn’t see all the busted crap with my own eyes.
In the front room there was the mess of what used to be a living room. I remember a bunch of broken records laying against a wall. I recognized a couple as old Kenny Rogers albums my aunt used to have. That kind of felt right for the house. Like it had a cowboy feel. A broke ass drunk, wailing on the walls, cowboy feel. This place might have been a home once but I was willing to bet the last time it was, it wasn’t a happy one.
“And there are some records,” Jaqueline said, continuing her commentary.
“Kenny Rogers,” I said.
“Who?” she asked.
“You know, the gambler, you gotta know when to hold ‘em and all that,” I said.
She wasn’t listening, she was in her own world. Then her flashlight went to the corner of the room and a dark closet. Something moved, she stopped suddenly and sucked in air quick and involuntary.
A dark shaped jumped at us with a scream. Jaqueline screamed and dropped her flashlight. I caught the thing before it grabbed her. Then it started to laugh. It was Mike. Another joke.
“Hahaha, you guys were scared,” Mike laughed.
“You’re not funny, Mike,” Jaqueline said with a shaken voice.
I thought it was funny. She got her scare anyway. She bent down to pick up her light and that’s when we heard giggling. Like a little kid. Jaqueline’s light was shining on a kids feet. He was little and standing in the doorway to the kitchen, the way we had just come. She picked the light up and shone it on him.
He was small and short, and wearing a grey wool ski mask. He was holding his hand to his mouth and giggling. There was a little dog with him. It looked like a grey mangy poodle or something. It was letting out a slow growl, not really mean, just warning, or unhappy.
“What are you doing here, kid?” Mike said.
The kid just kept giggling. Jaqueline was shaking. Mike scared her, but the kid was freaking her out.
“I’m little Steven,” the kid said.
“Why are you out so late?” Jaqueline asked him in a shaky voice.
“I’m little Steven,” the kid said again. He wasn’t giggling now. He was just standing there looking at us with that little dog standing next to him letting out its low whine.
I reached over and pulled the ski mask off the kid’s face. Jaqueline let out a gasp. He was a dirty skinny kid with eyes that looked too big for his head. But it was definitely his mouth that made her gasp. He had a big stupid kid grin. One of those smiles where the lips come back so far that you can see the person’s gums. But his gums were black. His teeth were black. It looked like he’d been chewing on tar. He just stood there and grinned at us.
“I’m little Steven,” the kid said again. The dog growled.
“What the fuck, kid,” I said. “What are you doing here?” He just looked at us. “Heh, you hear me?” I said and pushed his shoulder. The dog didn’t like that, Little Steven didn’t seem to like that either. I didn’t like it. He was cold. Shit was getting weird.
“I should get Big Steven,” the kid said. “Then he’ll sit on me like he did when I was coming home from the store. It was funny,” he said and started to giggle again.
It wasn’t funny, it was creepy.
“No, kid, that’s ok,” Mike said. “You don’t need to get Big Steven. Nice to meet you, Little Steven, we’re gonna go now. You have a great night.” Mike took a step about to walk around the kid. The dog got down in a stance ready to jump and growled louder.
“I’m little Steven,” the kid said. “I’m going to get Big Steven, he’ll sit on you too. It will be funny, you’ll see.” Then he turned and ran back into the kitchen with the dog.
We all just stood there for a second, shocked.
“Did you see his mouth?” Mike said.
“It looked like blood,” Jaqueline said. “Old dried blood.” She was staring, eyes wide, her light dangling at her side.
“Let’s get the fuck outta here, I don’t wanna meet that little brat’s hillbilly uncle,” Mike said and started heading for the side door. Jaqueline and I followed at a fast pace. As we passed back through the kitchen, the house began to shake. The bottles rolled off what was left of the counter, one smashed in the sink. We ran.
Back to the car only to find it empty. No Caroline, no Jeff. Then we heard a blood freezing scream from the basement. It was Caroline. Then another that ended in a choking and gurgling. It was Jeff. Then there was a boom like a bomb going off. We jumped into the car in time to see the front door of the house blow out into a million splinters. Something huge and black, like the night taking a shape, rushed at us through the destruction. Big Steven? It hit the car so hard the driver’s side lifted up, then came down with a crash and all the windows blew in.
The last thing I remember is trying to hide my face from the shattering glass, a horrible stink, heavy fetid breathing and grunting. I could feel warm blood running down my face and before I blacked out I thought I heard a little kid giggling.
“I’m Little Steven. He’s going to sit on you. It’ll be funny. It’s always funny.”
I don’t know what’s going on now. I’m sitting in a hospital. A police officer came and took my statement. He wouldn’t tell me anything though. I don’t know where anyone else is. It’s just me. My face is bandaged and my whole body hurts. The nurse just gave me a couple of pills to put me to sleep. As she leaves she dims the light and closes the door. I start to drift off, then something cold touches my hand, and giggles.
Swearwords: A couple of strong ones.
Description: Ghost-hunting can be boring. It can also be dangerous... very dangerous.
_____________________________________________________________________
It was the third abandoned building we explored that night. This one was a house. It was down some old farm lane, a one story kind of bungalow. Looked like it had always been cheap and ill used. Now only just a wreck of broken windows and a sagging porch painted in grime and dust. Probably wasn’t much to look at in the first place, even when it was new.
I could say we didn’t know what we were looking for, but really, we did. However if we thought we would really find what we were really looking for I’m sure none of us would have been looking. We were looking for a scare. We found it.
By the time we found the house it was getting pretty late at night, somewhere close to midnight by then. The first two buildings were nothing special, one was a kind of warehouse factory where we threw rocks through what was left of the windows and the other was an old shop with apartments above that we didn’t dare venture into because of rotted stairs. Both were dull and devoid of anything but our own jokes and laughter.
The house was strange. We almost drove by it but something weird happened that made us stop. Both Mike and Jaqueline’s compass turned and pointed at it as soon as we got close and held it on the needle tip as the car cruised past.
“Wait,” Caroline said.
I slowed the car to a stop.
“Back up,” Jaqueline said. “My compass is pointing at that little house.”
“Mine too,” said Mike.
I looked in the rearview. I could see the small dark shape just off the road. I hesitated. Not because I was scared but because I was tired, and kind of bored. Ghost hunting is often real boring, unless you’re drinking, which I wasn’t cuz I was driving so like I said, real boring. Of course my friends all had a nice buzz going so they didn’t think so. Jeff and Caroline were pretty much just making out the whole time and couldn’t give a rat’s ass where we were, Mike thought everything was funny cuz he was also puffing back joint after joint, and Jaqueline was right into the ghost shit. She kept talking about books she read and how energies stay in places and how entities sometimes revealed themselves in the right conditions and blah blah blah. The whole thing was kinda getting on my nerves. I wanted a beer, I didn’t want to stop again. Getting out of the car I told myself this would be the last place. Seems it was one place too many.
I reversed the car and parked in the dirt driveway next to the house. It was dark that night but for some reason when we pulled up next to the place the night seemed to get darker, almost black. Like the little dump itself was sucking any light the stars might give right out of the heavens. I think I was the only one that noticed it. Everyone else was a little drunk, and really I only noticed it half-heartedly. I only note it now because of what happened.
The front door was boarded up. There were thick slats across the doorframe and the door itself was nailed shut. We found an entrance around the side that didn’t even have a door anymore. The doorway opened on a little landing. One set of stairs went up and the other set went down. Funny, by looking at the front of the little bungalow you wouldn’t think it was big enough to have a basement.
Caroline and Jeff were still in the car, kissing.
“Are you two coming?” Jaqueline yelled to them.
“We’ll be right there,” Caroline answered barely taking her face away from Jeff’s.
“Let’s go,” Mike said. And with that his flashlight was on and he was through the doorway into the house.
Jaqueline and I followed. We entered a little kitchen. There was still a sink but the counter was mostly smashed and there were broken bottles everywhere. Looked like someone had done a lot of drinking there. Mike wandered ahead while I followed Jaqueline, I was only really there for her anyway. She took her time shining her light all over, she found every little broken dust covered thing interesting. She held a running commentary, like I couldn’t see all the busted crap with my own eyes.
In the front room there was the mess of what used to be a living room. I remember a bunch of broken records laying against a wall. I recognized a couple as old Kenny Rogers albums my aunt used to have. That kind of felt right for the house. Like it had a cowboy feel. A broke ass drunk, wailing on the walls, cowboy feel. This place might have been a home once but I was willing to bet the last time it was, it wasn’t a happy one.
“And there are some records,” Jaqueline said, continuing her commentary.
“Kenny Rogers,” I said.
“Who?” she asked.
“You know, the gambler, you gotta know when to hold ‘em and all that,” I said.
She wasn’t listening, she was in her own world. Then her flashlight went to the corner of the room and a dark closet. Something moved, she stopped suddenly and sucked in air quick and involuntary.
A dark shaped jumped at us with a scream. Jaqueline screamed and dropped her flashlight. I caught the thing before it grabbed her. Then it started to laugh. It was Mike. Another joke.
“Hahaha, you guys were scared,” Mike laughed.
“You’re not funny, Mike,” Jaqueline said with a shaken voice.
I thought it was funny. She got her scare anyway. She bent down to pick up her light and that’s when we heard giggling. Like a little kid. Jaqueline’s light was shining on a kids feet. He was little and standing in the doorway to the kitchen, the way we had just come. She picked the light up and shone it on him.
He was small and short, and wearing a grey wool ski mask. He was holding his hand to his mouth and giggling. There was a little dog with him. It looked like a grey mangy poodle or something. It was letting out a slow growl, not really mean, just warning, or unhappy.
“What are you doing here, kid?” Mike said.
The kid just kept giggling. Jaqueline was shaking. Mike scared her, but the kid was freaking her out.
“I’m little Steven,” the kid said.
“Why are you out so late?” Jaqueline asked him in a shaky voice.
“I’m little Steven,” the kid said again. He wasn’t giggling now. He was just standing there looking at us with that little dog standing next to him letting out its low whine.
I reached over and pulled the ski mask off the kid’s face. Jaqueline let out a gasp. He was a dirty skinny kid with eyes that looked too big for his head. But it was definitely his mouth that made her gasp. He had a big stupid kid grin. One of those smiles where the lips come back so far that you can see the person’s gums. But his gums were black. His teeth were black. It looked like he’d been chewing on tar. He just stood there and grinned at us.
“I’m little Steven,” the kid said again. The dog growled.
“What the fuck, kid,” I said. “What are you doing here?” He just looked at us. “Heh, you hear me?” I said and pushed his shoulder. The dog didn’t like that, Little Steven didn’t seem to like that either. I didn’t like it. He was cold. Shit was getting weird.
“I should get Big Steven,” the kid said. “Then he’ll sit on me like he did when I was coming home from the store. It was funny,” he said and started to giggle again.
It wasn’t funny, it was creepy.
“No, kid, that’s ok,” Mike said. “You don’t need to get Big Steven. Nice to meet you, Little Steven, we’re gonna go now. You have a great night.” Mike took a step about to walk around the kid. The dog got down in a stance ready to jump and growled louder.
“I’m little Steven,” the kid said. “I’m going to get Big Steven, he’ll sit on you too. It will be funny, you’ll see.” Then he turned and ran back into the kitchen with the dog.
We all just stood there for a second, shocked.
“Did you see his mouth?” Mike said.
“It looked like blood,” Jaqueline said. “Old dried blood.” She was staring, eyes wide, her light dangling at her side.
“Let’s get the fuck outta here, I don’t wanna meet that little brat’s hillbilly uncle,” Mike said and started heading for the side door. Jaqueline and I followed at a fast pace. As we passed back through the kitchen, the house began to shake. The bottles rolled off what was left of the counter, one smashed in the sink. We ran.
Back to the car only to find it empty. No Caroline, no Jeff. Then we heard a blood freezing scream from the basement. It was Caroline. Then another that ended in a choking and gurgling. It was Jeff. Then there was a boom like a bomb going off. We jumped into the car in time to see the front door of the house blow out into a million splinters. Something huge and black, like the night taking a shape, rushed at us through the destruction. Big Steven? It hit the car so hard the driver’s side lifted up, then came down with a crash and all the windows blew in.
The last thing I remember is trying to hide my face from the shattering glass, a horrible stink, heavy fetid breathing and grunting. I could feel warm blood running down my face and before I blacked out I thought I heard a little kid giggling.
“I’m Little Steven. He’s going to sit on you. It’ll be funny. It’s always funny.”
I don’t know what’s going on now. I’m sitting in a hospital. A police officer came and took my statement. He wouldn’t tell me anything though. I don’t know where anyone else is. It’s just me. My face is bandaged and my whole body hurts. The nurse just gave me a couple of pills to put me to sleep. As she leaves she dims the light and closes the door. I start to drift off, then something cold touches my hand, and giggles.
About the Author
Graham Mathew Scott is a Canadian of Scottish heritage who currently lives in Taiwan. He is an artist, a musician and a writer of fiction.