The Shed: Part 1

Hey Everyone!

I am so sorry it has taken me so long to post part 1 of my first creepy pasta. I have been at a work conference and it delayed me tremendously. I had no idea they would have us going from 7am to midnight, EVERY NIGHT! Anyways, I know this story is incredibly rough, but I wanted to get it up. All feedback is appreciated.


What happens in the shed, stays in the shed… Until now.

Dear Dickey,

Something happened today that left me very afraid. I know you’ve been gone a long time now — 4 months, but the letters you write me from your oil rig usually calm my nerves and remind me that everything will be okay, until today. Today something changed, and I need your opinion on it.

Do you remember how Aunt Gina’s farmhouse had that little shed out back, behind the smaller cornfield? We used to sneak out there before you left, I sure hope you haven’t forgotten. We used to, well… I know you most certainly remember what we did. Anyways, last night I went out there to the house to check on Aunt Gina, and Uncle Ed was acting strange.

Since school is out, my job as a teacher doesn’t have me tied up near as much and I can run down to Aunt Gina’s just about anytime to tidy up or fix her up a meal. The strokes gotten her bad this go around I’m afraid. Would you believe the doctor didn’t even make her go to the hospital this time? Just did a house call when it happened and gave her more of those blasted pills that she plumb refuses to take. I have to grind them up in her food.

Well anyway, I was making up a pan of biscuits just chatting away to her about my day, Uncle Ed’s almost always got her propped in the recliner that swivels so I can just spin her toward the kitchen when I’m cooking.

Anyways we were just a chatting, me talking and her listening when I heard a big bang from out in the shed! I mean Dickey it was LOUD! I thought for sure Uncle Ed had the whole shed cave in on him or something. I threw open the screen door and took off a running toward the corn field, apron still on and everything covered in flour, I’m sure I was quite a sight! By the time, I made it round the edge of the cornfield and got in view of the shed, I couldn’t see Uncle Ed or anything that could’ve caused that noise. I breathed a sigh of relief that the shed hadn’t caved in, but then the terrible thought occurred to me that the noise I heard could’ve been a gunshot!

I called out to Uncle Ed, picking back up my run and racing to the shed’s side door. I had just wrenched it open when I saw him. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom of the dark out building, I could see Uncle Ed’s legs sticking out from under the sink of his workstation.His body was covered by the cabinet and the darkness of the room, the only thing I could make out clearly was his black work boots. “Uncle Ed” I whispered, terrified for some unknown reason that he had been harmed in some way. “Are you okay? I heard an awful loud noise…” I reached out and touched his leg.

Uncle Ed’s hand shot out from under the cabinet and grabbed my wrist hard. In a flash he was on his feet with me pushed against the wall, arm painfully twisted behind my back. “Uncle Ed!!” I screamed, “It’s me! It’s me! Evangeline!” Uncle Ed’s look of realization washed over his face a few delayed seconds later. It was as if he didn’t recognize me at all, at first.

“Evangeline! Damn girl you scared me. I’m sorry honey, I guess my hearing is getting worse then I thought. Are you alright butter cup?”The bear of a man crushed me in his chest, muttering further apologies. A muffled “I’m fine,” could be heard as he squeezed me tight, although I honestly was certain if I was okay or not. Truth be told Dickey, he scared the hell out of me.

“Uncle Ed, what was the bang I heard then? I came out to check on you cause I heard a noise so loud I thought the shed had fallen down!” Uncle Ed mopped his face with a handkerchief pulled from the pocket of his overalls, a combination of tears from scaring me so bad and sweat from being scared himself had dotted his face and brow. “Child, I don’t know what you heard, but I sure didn’t hear anything out here. My bet would be a car backfired out on the main road.”

His answer for what had caused the bang kind of surprised me to be honest. Uncle Ed had been in Vietnam, and usually had the hearing of a hawk. For him not to hear me coming nor to hear the bang I heard was an odd thing indeed. His PTSD still had its moments, and a noise like that usually brought on a flashback, or worse. However, the more I thought about it the more I realized that maybe he had fallen asleep under the sink as he worked. Aunt Gina requires round the clock care now, and the poor man had probably just wore himself plumb out I mused to myself, promising to make a greater effort to help out Uncle Ed.

My mind sated that I wasn’t going crazy and that in all actuality the noise I heard was probably a car backfiring, I surveyed Uncle Ed and what he had been working on before I came in.

The shed had originally been a small barn that Uncle Ed had turned into a workshop. There was a door on one side of the building, and a sliding garage door hung at the front. It was one story, long and narrow with a counter top and work sink all along one side. It was under this sink he had been working, or perhaps sleeping, when I walked in.

I crouched down to look under the sink, when Uncle Ed propped a thick boot in my path between me and the cabinet. “You don’t want to see what’s down there, I promise you little lady. Black mold for days. I hadn’t cleaned out that cabinet for awhile, and boy now I wish I had. There’s been a leak, and now I’ve got to cleanse the whole thing through. Mold 3” deep.”

“Gross!” I muttered still peering behind Uncle Ed’s leg. I picked myself up abruptly and brushed flour from my apron, telling Uncle Ed I would head up to finish supper, and to not be out here working too late. He chuckled, groaning on about how a “man’s work is never done” but he’d hurry if I’d make him some biscuits.

Outside, I took a shaky breath. What i had glimpsed under the sink, what I hadn’t mentioned to Uncle Ed, left me perplexed. This is what I need your help with Dickey. I hadn’t seen any mold like Uncle Ed had mentioned, in fact it look fairly clean. The wood seemed to glint and was worn smooth at the bottom of the cabinet, even in the bad lighting of the overhead bulb. Through the gloom I could make out something though. Something that scared the absolute hell out of me. A smeared hand print. It was on the inside of the cabinet, with the finger portion reaching toward the open door. Almost as if someone braced themselves trying to climb out of the cabinet. Normally I would’ve thought nothing of it. Between paint, furniture lacquer, and all the other materials Uncle Ed used out there it should’ve been nothing. But it wasn’t. This hand print was different. This hand print looked to be made in blood.

Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think!