A man comes into his new house, expecting an old victorian beauty but strange things start to happen. When he goes to investigate, he isnt ready to find whats been terrorizing him. Does he make it? Find out.

I can’t believe this is my house. I thought walking up the worn steps. As I grasped the brass doorknob, I heard a muffled sound that sounded like stop.
“Hello?” I called, no reply.
It’s just an old house I thought to myself. Probably just the pipes. When I walked inside dust filled my nose and lungs. The only thing I could do was cough. It felt as if someone made me swallow hot coals. Cobwebs covered my vision. It looks as if nobody has lived here for years. I casually walked back outside to collect the boxes that contained most of my life. Grabbing a large, cardboard box covered in duct-tape and admiring the 19th century home that was now mine, I walked back up the steps. That’s when I noticed something. I don’t remember closing the door. Maybe I’m not alone.
  “Oh don’t be silly boy. It's just an old house.” I heard my father’s voice in my head.
       After some deep breaths I opened up the door and set my box down on the coffee table. A few more trips to the car, and all of my belongings were inside. It wasn’t long after I had set the last box down that I realized I had never taken a tour around the house so I began my exploration.
Starting in the living room, there wasn’t much to it besides a couple of old couches and a small family of bugs scampering across the single brown carpet. Next was the kitchen/dining room. The sink was dripping and I saw that there were no doors on the cabinets. Not thinking too much about it, I moved on to the dining area where there was a large Victorian table with only one chair. After that was the bedrooms that were all identical with their one bed, one painting, and all with the word STOP written in children’s handwriting. It was probably just some kid who lived here before me and got bored.
The basement was last because, to be honest, it gave off an eerie feeling. Being careful of course, I walked down the windy staircase. Darkness. That’s all there was to it, besides the low temperatures. Luckily I had my lighter in my pocket so I lit it and resumed my journey to the bottom of the stairs. I found a small wooden door along with some other random items like ice skates and a green rug leaning against the cold brick wall. I was most of all curious about the miniature wooden door. As I neared it, I heard psychotic laughing and whispers. Pressing my face to the door and looking through a crack, I couldn’t see much but a bloody rat being mercilessly hit in the head with a sharp rock. I gasped.
  “I will get him. He will pay,” it said and then continued laughing.
  I can’t describe it voice in words. Just plain demonic. I was still looking through the crack, too shocked to move, when I saw a hand slam against the door right across from my eye. I tried to run but my flash light went out and everything was dark again. The twisted whispers continued and I heard the small door open with a loud screeching sound against the concrete.
          The demon's eyes glowed a shade of blood red that seemed to light up the room but I couldn’t move more or less run away. It had fine gray hair that covered its body and it was crouched in a physically impossible position. The eyes peered into my soul and all of this time it had never stopped rambling. That was until I yelled stop. The demon creature was silent and nothing came from it, nor, I for several seconds. I saw the corners of it mouth slowly lift revealing it’s chipped teeth.
           “You should’ve stopped when I told you.” It said in a low voice. Then it pounced.
Everything went black…