Don’t tell

Day 4 last day for horror prompt – 2012 words 

“Don’t jump on the couch!” She glanced at the clock over the mantle. “Okay, kids, bed or I’m going to make sure the man in the closet gets you.”

The oldest boy rolled his eyes, but stopped bouncing. “Careful or he’ll get you for lying.”

Smart ass, she thought as she herded him and his little sister upstairs to their bedrooms. It wasn’t as much of a fight as she anticipated. They both only required two stories instead of the usual five.

She left them both on the edge of sleep, tucked in with night lights on, water by the bed, stuffies in their arms. She left the doors cracked so she could hear any movement and crept back down to the living room.

It was a quarter after nine. Their parents wouldn’t be home until one or two, which left her plenty of time to get up to something good. Her cunt gave a twitch as she contemplated the something she wanted to get up to.

She cycled through her options and settled on a movie first. It was easy to just put something dirty on and have a wank, but she was very aware of the kids just falling asleep. The youngest had a tendency towards nightmares just after dozing so dashing up the stairs with wet fingers wouldn’t be a good idea.

Opting for something tame, she put on an action movie to pass a little bit of time. Turning the volume down, she settled on the couch.

Her cunt wouldn’t be ignored though. Within the first twenty minutes, she’d pulled a blanket over her lap and let her hand drift between her thighs. The movie played in the background, but her eyes were focused on her phone.

A woman was bent double, a flesh toned dildo in her ass, and her cunt full of pounding cock. The man moved with the fervor of someone about to come. She moaned as they zeroed in on the thrusting action, her hand working frantically on her clit as she tried to race them to the finish.

The ringing of her phone startled her out of the moment. An unknown number popped up on the screen and she sent it to voicemail.

Her mood threatened to turn grumpy, but she pushed it away. Instead she went on a search for more videos to suit her fancy. Her cunt throbbed too much to try to ignore the need to come.

Just as she was hitting play on what might be a hot BDSM scene, the voicemail message appeared.

She clicked over, checking the transcription. When nothing appeared, she pressed play. Silence greeted her on the first part of the message, and just when she started to hit delete a voice sounded.

“You won’t tell.”

The voice, barely above a whisper, sent goosebumps racing down her arms. She pulled the phone from her ear and glanced at the number again. It wasn’t an area code from the immediate area, let alone this state.

“Wrong number. Relax.”

She chastised herself for being ridiculous. Probably some advert that got cut off before the message could finish.

Talking herself through it made some of the irrational fear diminish. Her mind circled back around to her cunt. She slipped her hand back down between her thighs and pressed play on the video.

Her focus zeroed in on a woman tied face down on a bed, a man clad in all black whipping her bottom. She gave a trembly moan, the need to feel the whip on her skin so great. The scene progressed to him fucking her ass as another man held her head down on his cock. The woman was a mess of tears and cum.

Oh God, it was near enough to send her over the edge, her body reviving back up with ease. She was so close, her mind easily putting her in the scene with her as the woman being used. So close.

The house phone rang, snapping her off the couch in a hurry. She scurried to the kitchen, wiping her hand on her shirt and trying desperately to get to the phone before the next ring. All she needed was the kids to wake up. They’d be up the rest of the night and she’d pull her hair out.

She managed to grab and speak breathlessly into the phone. “Carmichael’s residence.”

Silence filtered through the phone.


It was the same eerie silence as before. She waited, holding just to prove it was nothing.

“You won’t tell.”

Her gut tightened. Nothing followed those words.

“Not fucking funny.” She slammed the phone down and marched back into the living room.

It was hard shaking the nervous feeling this time. The movie was half over. Someone was screwing with her. Probably her boyfriend or one of her friends who liked to spook her. She dug her phone out of the couch cushions and settled back.

It was principle that drove her now. A need to come just to stick it to whomever was messing with her tonight. She found a hard core video, one where the woman was being fucked by multiple men, knowing it would send her over the edge.

She sat the phone on the coffee table, propping it with a coaster. With both hands free and her attention riveted, she was able to pinch her nipples and alternate fucking herself and rubbing her clit. It raced up quick. After edging twice she was on the edge. As the first man filled the woman on the screw full of come, she was biting her lip hard to keep from screaming as she finally toppled over the edge.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she rode the edge of her climax, pinching hard at her nipple to draw it out.

Right as she felt her heart rate settle down, the lights flickered and then the power went out. Her heart picked up the pace as darkness surrounded her. She snatched up her phone, clicking on the flashlight so she could see.

She considered calling the parents, but remembered they’d shown her where the breaker box was. Her stomach flipped as she thought about going down in the dark basement.

“Relax,” she coached herself. “Simple outage.”

She made sure her phone light was at its brightest before she approached the basement door. It was no big deal. She gave herself that pep talk all the way down the unfinished stairs, and it became a chant as she started stopped at the bottom.

One pass of the light showed the box was on the other end of the long room. It was unfinished like the stairs, all concrete floor and brick walls. She sprinted to the box, her hands shaking as she opened it up to reveal the switches.

Her heart gave a hard thud when she realized all the switches had been turned to off except the ones to the kid’s bedrooms. Someone was in the house with her in the kids.

“Stop,” she told herself. There was a better explanation.

As quickly as possible, she flipped on all the off switches, and a sigh when the light from the kitchen filtered over from across the room. Turning back, she closed the box with a thud, and tried to tamp down the fear that was threatening to overwhelm her.

It had to be Tara. She’d told Tara she was going to be sitting tonight and the girl had a tendency to prank her. She dialed Tara up as she trounced up the stairs.

“Hey, Wh–”

“You bitch. Cut it out.” She breathed the words into the phone as she closed the door behind her.

There was a pause. “I’m not sure what I’ve done tonight, but tell me so I can make sure I should take credit for it.”

Doubt wormed through her. She opened the fridge and grabbed one of the beers from the back.

“You’re trying to scare me, I know you are. This is the kinda shit you like to do.”

“Look, I know I’m usually the one to pull a scare on you, but I’m with Bobby tonight over on the east end. I promise it’s not me.”

The swing of beer almost refused to go down. “You didn’t call me earlier while I was jilling?”

Tara laughed. “Not tonight.”

“Or… or cut off the power.” She squeaked the words out.

It was a long pause before Tara spoke again. “I think you should go home. I wouldn’t have done that. ”

“I can’t leave for a while ‘cause I’m babysitting.” She sat the beer on the counter and leaned her head against the cabinet. “I’m being crazy. I really don’t think it’s anything now that I think about it.”

“Just be careful.”

“Yea… can’t have something happen to the babysitter.”

They signed off and she wandered back into the living room. The last twenty minutes of the movie was left so she sat down to watch. It took a moment, but she convinced herself to relax. She’d just pick out another movie and hunker down until the Carmichael’s returned.

Her phone rang again as the credits started to play. It was that unknown number. This time she picked it up.

“Listen, asshole, this isn’t funny and you need to fucking stop it.”

She listened to the silence and disconnected before the words were spoken. The power went out again the moment she disconnected. Shooting to her feet, she raced to the kitchen.

Her phone light shining on the basement door to reveal it was cracked open. She went into a mental panic as the thought that someone was really in the house solidified.

Her mind wouldn’t seem to focus as the fear took over. She needed a weapon, something to defend herself, and she needed the cops. Or their parents.

She pulled a knife from the cutlery drawer and held it in front of her. Her thoughts turned next to the kids. What if the person was up there? That thought sent her scurrying to up the steps, thoughts of calling anyone forgotten.

Halfway up the stairs, she heard one of the kids cry and raced the rest of the way up. She reached the little girl’s room and pushed her way in. A pass of the light showed an empty bed.

“Tess?” She called. “Tess, where are you?”

She looked under the bed and in the closet before exiting to go to her brother’s room. The cry came again from across the hall and she pushed into his room next.

As she entered, she tripped, falling flat on her face. The knife flew from her hand along with her phone, leaving her dazed.

“Brian?” She called as she went to move to her hands and knees. “Is Tess–”

The rest of her words were lost as a rope around her neck cut off her breath. She attempted to scratch at the noose, but feet planted into her back, holding her down. Her struggle seemed to tighten the noose until her eyes bugged from her head. Her heart raced to pump what little oxygen there was, adrenaline making her frantic.

“You won’t tell, will you?”

She looked up to see the boy with the end of the rope looped over the door. He was far stronger than he looked because he was able to hold the rope and keep her from getting loose.

Her vision blurred, then faded around the edges. Her skin bled where she’d dig in desperation to get the rope loose. She was going to die there on the floor, could feel it in her gut. That realization renewed her struggle.

“You’ve been a bad girl.”

Why couldn’t she get free? What had she done?

His smile was scary, making him look nothing like the sweet boy she thought when she’d started the night.

“All bad girls deserve to die, don’t you?”

All the life leeched out of her, her body rigid as death settled like a blanket.

“Of course you do. You can’t tell lies if you’re dead.”

A photo of the gray sky with some trees visible and only a little light shining in post titled Don’t Tell


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