I live in a house located in southern Texas. I had moved here from South Bend, Indiana a few months ago. It took a lot of work, having to get used to a new environment, unpacking and arranging stuff, etc. In my new house, there's a closet that was placed inside my bedroom (which came with its own bathroom). When I first discovered it, it was rather empty; no clothes, no towels, nothing. Due to this, I decided to store it with my own clothes, my own towels, and some other things in my possession. But today, I will disclose every detail of the experience that has severely altered the way I look at that same closet.
One Friday morning, it was dark and stormy, and I was feeling rather ill. I had a slight fever, and I felt a little nauseous, so I went into my bedroom, into the bathroom, got undressed, and took a nice, warm, steamy shower to try and ease my sickness. Afterwards, I got out, dried off, brushed my teeth, combed my hair, and took the clothes that were lying on the floor in front of me, and dumped them in the washer. Later, I had gone to the closet to get myself some new clothes to wear, when I had accidentally knocked a few boxes over on to the carpet floor in the bedroom. I went to pick them up when I noticed something... odd. There was, what looked like, a trap door set on the floor in the closet that was covered up by some of the boxes. I remember how I kept thinking to myself, "Why would a trap door be in a closet?" My curiosity got the better of me as I opened it. A staircase was present. The thought constantly was brought back to me as to whether or not I should really walk down there, since I wasn't feeling too hot. But then again, I guess it wouldn't hurt to take a look. Nevertheless, the dimly-lit room inside that had been uncovered and the mind-boggling fact that something like this was in this closet, in this house, for as long as I've been here, and I haven't noticed was so tempting. With that being said, I walked in. The staircase was quite possibly the longest staircase I've ever come across. It had taken me over two minutes just to get to the room. When I was finally there, I noticed that the only things in there were a couch, a desk, a chair, and an air conditioner. Since there wasn't that much to do in there, I just stood there, staring at the nearly deserted room. I was just about to walk up back up the stairs and leave when the trap door slammed shut, all by itself. I tried opening it back, but it appeared to be locked. The light then shut off, and I was in the dark. Fear started taking control of me as my breathing started getting heavy, and my heart began to beat faster than usual. Sweat droplets streamed down the sides of my face. At that moment, I heard a voice say, "Don't you move!"
The voice was very intimidating, almost as if Satan himself was talking to me. I jumped at the sound of it and backed away into the wall, I was acting so frantically. Right then and there, a skeleton popped out. He was covered from head-to-toe in dark red blood. The sight was so terrifying, I didn't even know what to think. As a matter of fact, I didn't even know HOW to think, I was too concerned of the shocking sight I was experiencing. The skeleton just stood still in his position before finally making a movement of some sort; which was a hard blow to the face that knocked me out cold. Everything went black.
I awoke in a hospital bed the next day. A blonde nurse who was standing by my bed held my hand and stated that I had suffered a minor concussion due to that punch to the face, and instructed that I needed take Tylenol for the next few weeks and that I would be bed-ridden until I heal. To this day, the event still baffles me, but I am thankful I only suffered minor injuries, and that I've got over it in time.