Warning! This story contains no redeaming social value and is a merely a quickly written tale of supernatural horror and rape involving a thirteen-year-old girl. If you're offended by that, don't read it. If you don't like this story, well then you were warned.
Katrina wasn't sure what exactly had awoken her first, the faint, pungent scent in the air, the soft, disquieting sounds, or perhaps the vague feeling of something simply not being right. Slipping out of bed, the thirteen-year-old girl winced a slightly at the chill she felt as her bare feet touched the hardwood floor. Silently she then crept from her room and glanced around the darkened hallway beyond.
There was silence now, no wind outside, no snoring from her parents room, no strange noises she couldn't place. Somehow this was more frightening than the odd noises Katrina had half heard in her sleep, and as the young girl stood in the thick gloom, staring over the railing at the floor below, a chill ran down her spine. Yet somehow, she felt compelled to descend into the deeper darkness. Somehow Katrina knew that she would never sleep well without knowing what had awakened her.
Creeping down the stairs, the girl wrinkled her nose, the pungent odour rising again, this time thicker, heavier in the air. Katrina pushed at the air before her face, trying to dispel it, but it wasn't until she had reached the first floor landing that it finally faded. Glancing around the living room, the young teenager came close to feeling satisfied that whatever had caused the smell had gone. But then a noise caused Katrina to jump a bit, startled by its suddenness in the thick darkness.
Stifling a yelp, the girl clutched her chest and glanced around wildly, the sound was louder than before, but still hard to identify. It sounded wet, almost sticky, mixed with an odd gurgle. Whatever it was, the sound caused Katrina's small body to quiver with fright, but somehow she couldn't stop herself. Tentatively, with nervous steps, the girl crept towards the small door that lead to the basement. Somehow she simply knew that that was where she'd find the source of the smell, and the strange sounds.
Opening the door Katrina nearly gagged, the pungent stink reminded her somewhat of an overflowing sewer mixed with an overly full dumpster on a hot day in August. The smell was nearly overpowering and the girl held her nose tightly with one hand as the other felt around for the light switch.
As the unshielded light in the unfinished basement flickered, the girl heard the noise again, this time louder, more distinctive. It seemed as though something sticky and wet were prying itself loose from the concrete floor, before rolling back into itself. For a moment, Katrina thought she saw the shadows move, as though the thing were hiding from the light.
Her heart pounding, the dark curiosity that gripped her forced little Katrina to take the first few steps into the basement. Above her, the single bare bulb swung slowly, flickering ominously as she spotted the box of candles and matches on the old wooden workbench. Eyeing the shadows with frightful suspicion, Katrina hurried down the steps and rushed to the bench.
By the time she had lit a candle, the light above her died, deepening the shadows once more, leaving only a small circle of flickering firelight. Squinting to see, Katrina saw something move. A large, formless bulk in the near darkness, the wretched smell growing stronger again, the wet, roiling, syrupy sound closer than before.
With a soft whimper, the girl crept forward, part of her mind screaming at her to run, but somehow she couldn't. There was something about the sounds, the odd movements of the shadows. She could sleep until she knew it was all just her imagination. But then she saw it. A mass of oozing, rolling black putrescence, formless and monstrous, a huge frightful clump of slick, slimy looking fowl goo.
Katrina's sudden scream was cut short as the black syrupy thing shot out a pseudopod and struck the girl hard in the stomach, knocking her down onto her back, the candle landing just out of reach. Looking up, the young teen let out a stifled cry as she saw the thing looming over her, pseudopods suddenly grabbing her ankles, the creature's grip warm and slimy against her pale, soft skin.
"N- Nooo-!" the girl tried to scream, but her voice was kept low by terror, coming out as a plaintive squeak as the thick, black ooze shot up her short, teenage legs, gripping her almost painfully.