My Little Rabbit by James DeSantis Read Free Book Online

Remember
     
     
    That smell.
Sewage combined with burnt flesh. Its stench is far enough even to
reach me down here. The way it flows through the air straight down
four floors is astonishing. My eyes are washed out, blurry; it
feels like I'm in a different world. Foggy. Could this be a
nightmare?
I can't take the chance to find out.
A door just cracked open. Footsteps, low but undoubtedly creaking
the soundboard above me. I shiver. The more thoughts I have of that
thing approaching, the quicker my stomach churns. Maybe I should
run. What's the sense of hiding? If it finds me it'll tear me to
shreds. Least running I might have a chance of surviving.
    * DING*
    My attention shoots to the
left and one flight above. Something hard just hit a metal surface.
What was that? Shit, I can't recall what was up there. A piano with
a few books between it and a couch. A busted TV as well. I can't
remember anything metal.
    * DING*
    I jump. My heart is pounding
at an extraordinarily fast speed and my palms are sweaty from
staying in the exact same spot for the last twenty-two minutes and
seventeen seconds.
Eighteen.
Nineteen.
“Come out, come out, my little bunny rabbuut!”
    His voice is chilling, the way he pronounces
the word rabbit with some gleefulness. It's like a six-year-old
getting his first pet, except this sick fuck wants to dissect me
like some goddamn science class project.
    “Why do you fear me? I'm your friend,
remember? I've been trying to see you so we can be bestest pals. So
why aren't you talking to me?” I, of course, don't respond. I'd be
a damn idiot to. He knows that, so why then is he trying to lure me
out in the dumbest fashion possible?
“COME OUT YOU LITTLE SHIT!!!”
    I feel myself urinate. My body is shaking and
chills aren't just running down my spine, they're grabbing a hold
and moving in. My eyes stare through the cracks above my head and I
can see a shadow going over the area I'm peeping through.
    “So we continue our cat and mouse game, huh?
Why do you do this to me?” He slams whatever he's holding against
the piano. A key goes off and a devastating crushing sound follows.
What he has is able to break a piano...my mind goes blank.
    I could barely breathe.
I can't stop shaking.
What in the--
A dragging sound. A step. Two steps. Three. Four. Five.
Six-seven-eight...shit he's moving faster.
    I get up from crouching.
    He slams into a door and with some miracle it
holds firm. I don't bother to even check back, I just keep on
crawling my way towards the other side of where that sound came
from. My heart is slamming so hard I don't even hear the second
crash, just the roars of a psychotic madman. I reach out and
finally feel it. The knob.
    * CRASH* This time I do turn back.
His face lights up like the damned Fourth of July when he sees me
on the other side. His grin is so big. His eyes narrow down and
they're so thin they look almost snake-like. The way they point so
precise, as if to show you how evil he can be. However, it's the
white makeup with two green cheeks that make him most horrifying.
Calling him a clown would be too much of a compliment. A man
dressed in a fitted gown but instead of coming off elegant, fell on
his face and ruined his own work. A scary, wrongly made, devilishly
disgusting creature.
    He was coming right towards me.
    I turned the knob. It's tight, not turning
all the way. I use my body's force to try to break it open. No
luck. I turn back to see the clown-man crawling towards me, halfway
to his target. I turn back around and use my shoulder again.
Nothing.
    Again.
    Nothing.
    I turn back to see him inching closer. His
tongue sticks out like a dog waiting for a treat. He's begging to
get a bite of me. To taste my flesh.
    “No!” I holler and slam myself with
everything I have against the door.
    It flies open and I go with it.
    “You can run my little rabbit, but you cannot
escape me.” His serpentine tongue slides out and makes a motion
like a windshield wiper across his face. His