Dora The Explorer - Horror Story Chapter

“Do-do-do-do-Dora
Do-do-do-do-Dora
Do-do-do-do-Dora
Do-do-do-do-Dora, let's go”

That’s what I awakened to at 02:03 in the morning, after it had infected my dreams with its annoying tune. I came to my senses and realised – wait its 02:03 in the morning and somebody is singing the Dora the explorer theme tune IN MY HOUSE. Like WHAT????

Ok Ok… Keep calm I reassured my self. Its probably just some drunk people coming home from a party – It is a Saturday. But why does sound like its coming from the kitchen downstairs? My window is facing the road and as I opened the window as slyly as possible I could see that there was not a single soul out on the streets right now. I began shaking. There is a burglar in my house. I need to get mum and dad. I crept silently across the bedroom my hand quaking as I turned the door handle.

Out here on the landing the singing was louder and definitely down stairs. I grabbed a torch on my way out the room and now I swung it around - the light searching  around I the nooks and crannies of the hallway and staircase. Just needed to get around the staircase and up to Mum and dads room. Simple. I made my round the back of the staircase and I was about to put my bare foot on the staircase when I hear the sound of a knife being swished around and then silence. Just silence.

I freeze. My brain is telling my legs to move but I cant.

I cant. I cant. Fear consumes me as sit down on the step, my head spinning. I’m lightheaded and dizzy. But I cant get the sound of the knife out of my head. It keeps replaying like a stuck tape over and over and over and over – is it me or is it getting louder? There it is again. Stop please stop. Swish Swish.

What’s that? I think as I lift my head up out of my hands to get a better listen. Its like….a kind of scratching noise.

Weird. I walk down the stairs clutching the banister.

I’m downstairs now and regretting my decisions to ever do this. I want to turn around run away, and go back to sleep and forget about it, and then in the morning I would just say – ‘oh it was just a scary dream’ and have done with it. But I know that could never happen and there would always be a little, tiny, almost minuscule voice reminding me every day that that was not a dream. It was the harsh reality. No matter how much I ignored it or tried to forget about it – the thing that was in my house on the ninth of October 1998.