Restraint paranormal stories

lina_demoriaye The Thriller Archives
Autoplay OFF   •   2 years ago
Sometimes the monster is not the monster


I can hear them calling for me from the basement, their high voices screaming for me to help. Some days I cover my ears to keep from hearing their heart-felt pleas for me to release them.

I'm their mother, and it's almost more than I can bare to hear my children screaming like that.

But as time has gone on, I find myself more easily ignoring their cries with the simple chant of "It's for their own good" repeated over and over in my head.

I don't like chaining my children up, but it's a necessary evil.

My husband overhauled the basement when we learned I was pregnant. I didn't understand what he was doing but he told me he would explain everything when he was finished.

I'll admit, walking into a basement with thick chains secured to the walls was NOT what I expected when I crept down there one night.

I almost left him, thinking he was planning something terrible. However, fate had another plot in mind as my husband was killed by a drunk driver three days before I gave birth.

I tried to work through the grief enough to turn the basement into an office but just going down there gave me chills. I was grateful though once I realized how useful the room actually was.

It took exactly 10 years for me to understand what my husband planned the room for, and frankly I'm thankful that he had the forethought to make the basement as sturdy as it is.

The kids have twice almost gotten loose and it only took one time for me to learn my lesson and not loosen their collars when they scream that they hurt too much.

This time however, I'm afraid the chains won't hold. My son made the mistake of telling one of his friends about being locked in the basement, and now CPS is coming to take the children away.

I've tried delaying them as much as I can, but the burns around their necks and wrists paint me as a monster.

As the police break down the door, I plead with them to wait, to come into the basement and see the reason behind my children's need for chains.

But as expected, no one listens to the rantings of an insane woman. As I look up to the sky I pray that the bloodshed will be minimal.

I can hear my children screaming, so I know they haven't turned. The moon hasn't risen yet, but when it does my children will change and feed.

I just hope the police are quick enough to shoot before one of them gets loose. But as I hear my son coming up the stairs I already know it's too late...

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