Well, that's the last of it. I said, breathing a sigh and collapsing on the couch. I'm officially

toast. I just finished hauling the last couple of boxes into the house from the moving

truck, stacks of them were piled throughout the living room, making a corrugated fortress

around me. On packing would be another long adventure, but at least we had finally

gotten all of our belongings into the farmhouse so that we could begin the process of starting

our new life here. As I lay in the couch, relaxing momentarily, the hairs began to stand

up on the back of my neck. I started to get a strong sense that I was being watched,

specifically from the door beneath the stairs leading to the basement. It creaked open

slowly, just the crack as I observed it back. I closed my eyes, ignoring that paranoid

feeling. There was no one else in the house except for us. Therefore, nobody was watching

me. It was just my imagination. Yet still, every time I turned away, I felt a tingling and

sort of vague shadow in that direction, just barely visible in my peripherals. There

was also a feeling of a presence that I could not ignore. The door to the basement yorned

opened wider as if inviting me in. Darkness peered out, blacker than a midnight graveyard.

Standing up on shaking legs, I began to walk over to the door, thinking a draft from

the basement was blowing it open. I didn't like the feeling of it being a jar. Don't

ask me why, but I just didn't like it. As I drew closer, the sensation of eyes watching

me became even more powerful. As if I was drawing closer to a predator and my body was telling

me to turn away and run. That darkness was too much for me to look at, so I turned my

eyes away briefly. But that made the feeling even worse. I couldn't help thinking that

if something jumped out from the doorway, I couldn't see it until it was too late. So,

I looked back again, forced myself to focus my attention on the eerie blackness.

...