Screamscapes: Tales of Terror Read Online Free Page A

Miranda snuggled up beside him.
    Tomorrow can’t get here soon enough, he thought.
    He took a deep breath. Rest time was over. He had to get this done as fast as possible. He rolled back onto his belly, again squeezing his body as he turned in the tight space.
    The shining brightness of the light bulb brought a new warmth and semblance of comfort to this terrible place. This job might not be so bad after all, Tom thought – especially if he didn’t have to crawl around with a flashlight the entire time.
    The sole downside to the improved lighting was that it revealed that the crawlspace was even more filthy and disgusting than the flashlight’s narrow beam had cared to show.
    Decades of abandoned cobwebs drooped overhead, weighted with hundreds of long-hollowed shells, insect corpses that waited for his unwitting face to brush them free from where they dangled, in eternal slumber, as he crawled by. Tom wondered how many of these cobwebs were already stuck to the back of his head and shivered at the thought.
    Further away, towards the far end of the house opposite the crawlspace door, the ground had a glossy green sheen, probably moss – even though he couldn’t imagine how it could grow here, deprived of even the slightest sliver of sunlight. Maybe leaving the crawlspace door open for the last week had been enough to allow it to take hold?
    Tom scrunched his nose in displeasure and realization hit him – how much he had lost with his job, how much he missed his freshly pressed suit and his fine office, where the air was always a pleasant mix of coffee and corporate sanitation. This is what he had been reduced to: crawling around in the dark, alone.
    He rotated around to face the crawlspace exit again, trying his best to stay atop the narrow plastic path he had laid. Every wayward knee or elbow that slid off the plastic meant another part of him that was wet, muddy, and most importantly - freezing cold. The temperature had dropped since he started and he had let the sweat on his body cool too much.
    Tom fought the urge to shiver as he struggled to catch a glimpse of sunlight coming through the open crawlspace door, the same portal that had glowed with such transcendence a few minutes before. The brilliant incandescent glare of the light bulb behind his head cast sharp shadows that stretched out along the ground in front of him.
    He looked intently from right to left, but could see nothing beyond the bright ring of light in which he was immersed.
    A sudden urge to stand, to stretch, to breathe fresh air possessed him, and Tom scooted along the plastic path toward the crawlspace exit as fast as he could.
    The light bulb revealed the limitations of its reach, as Tom quickly found himself submerged again in an inky darkness as he approached the periphery of the house. Where the hell was the opening? It should have been in full view by now.
    He fumbled in his pocket for the flashlight he had stowed only a few minutes earlier, thinking he would not need it any longer.
    He propped himself up on both elbows and clicked the light on, illuminating the area in front of him.
    He was startled to see the inside of the crawlspace door a couple of feet in front of his face, concentric circles of light reflecting off its rusty steel surface. Happy to be so close to the exit, Tom let out a sigh of relief.
    Then it hit him. The door was closed.
    He had difficulty processing it. His mind began to spit out possible explanations, like coins from a slot machine. He sorted through the numerous options and settled on the most likely explanation as to why the crawlspace door he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt had been firmly propped open with a crowbar was closed: the wind must’ve blown it shut.
    He crawled forward and gently pulled at it with one hand, hoping it would swing open, but it didn’t budge.
    He pulled again, harder, but still the door refused to give.
    Maybe someone had passed by and seen the door ajar and decided to close it? He