Stuck: A Psychological Horror Short Story

Stuck has been a labor of love. I wrote it about some of my feelings as a stay-at-home dad when I first started that journey.

I had this feeling that even when the kids weren’t home, I was still trapped. I set out to tell those feelings in a horror story, because I felt all those feelings during October. However, I never got around to finishing it.

Last year, I tried to edit the story and make it even better, but I never finished. Life with kids, both of whom had started school and were bringing home viruses left and right.

Now, three years later with a kindergartener at home, many of the feelings are still the same. Even though the kids are gone, I can feel stuck at home, trying to make this site work.

But I actually love do it, I just would like a day off from everything once and a while.

But, just like in the story, I better be careful what I wish for.

Stuck: A Psychological Horror Short Story by Jarrett S. Smith

He had become immune to his daughter’s shrills. She unleashed that mighty blast of sonic violence far too often. Getting used to them didn’t mean he enjoyed them. They still intruded into his body and ran up and down his spine.

“Just let me comb your hair,” Dan tried to explain to a toddler who didn’t care at all for the brush in his hand at the moment. Amelia’s hair looked like she had stuck her finger in an electrical socket.

She screeched at him again and ran off. He reached to touch the headphones in his pocket. It would be wonderful to pop them in and play the podcast he was itching to start instead of the oral blasts of a tiny tyrant, but he would have to wait.

The toaster popped up, startling him. He put the brush down and headed for the toaster. Tops of the toast looked too dark for Amelia. He thought about scraping off the crispy burnt parts into the sink, but the sound might alert Amelia to his ruse, and then she would scream and refuse to eat.

Instead, he popped one of the burnt toasts into his mouth, the other onto a plate and put in two new pieces, while adjusting the dial to make the toast not so toasty. He wished beyond anything that he could just have a moment to himself. What he wouldn’t give to just have a brief silence.

Dan glanced at the kitchen table, where Max, their eighteen-month-old had smeared his yogurt all over his face. The rest of his food uneaten and his clothes now saturated with yogurt.

He took a deep breath and surveyed the area. Amelia hadn’t gone to the bathroom, she needed to change into her school clothes, her hair done, and she needed to eat. Max would need cleaning and changing, and Dan wasn’t sure the baby had even eaten anything. He glanced at the clock on the microwave and pushed himself to move even faster.

He looked toward the playroom where Amelia had escaped. She looked so calm and peaceful playing with her toys, but he knew it would only be a few moments before she demanded his presence.

If only he could have a morning, a moment, something to himself. Of course, that’s why they had signed the kids up for this program.

Luckily, at the other end of the open kitchen/living room, the door to their bedroom opened. His wife marched through like the Avengers coming to the rescue.

“What needs to be done?” Christine asked, ready for action.

“Everything,” Dan rasped as he crunched on the burnt toast.

Like a well-oiled machine, the two fought through the screams and protestations and managed to get both of the kids dressed, fed, and ready. As quickly as the screams started, they transformed into giggles and laughter as both parents managed to turn things into games.

Dan shepherded them out into his wife’s SUV. Amelia, defiant as always, pushed her dad’s hand away as she climbed into her seat. When she came crashing down into it, the corners of her mouth tugged upward into the cutest smile.

“Have a great day at school,” Dan said as he kissed his daughter’s forehead.

He looked across the way to see his wife securing Max in his carseat. She looked up at Dan and offered him a smile. He closed the door and walked around the car.

There, he engulfed his wife in an embrace. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“And look, we still have five minutes,” she said.

“I honestly can’t believe it.”

She fixed him with a look of adoration before kissing him. “Not every guy would have given up his career to help raise kids. You’re my hero.”

He blushed, but kissed her again. From inside the car, he could hear Amelia say “OooooOOooOooO.”

He chuckled out of the kiss and looked to the window.

“What do you have planned with your well-deserved break?”

“Man, I wish that I could just not feel trapped in the house for a moment. All day, taking care of these two, I feel like I’m always …”

Christine’s face soured. “Well, sorry about this, but don’t forget that the carpenter is coming by today to look at the cabinets.”

Dan closed his eyes, sighed, and tilted his head back.

She rested her head on his chest and listened to his heart speed up. Then she held his shoulders at arm’s length and looked at him. “But at least you won’t have the kids to worry about.”

He nodded, trying to find the good in it—like he used to.

“I’ll call the carpenter to ask if he could get there early. That way you can go grab lunch or something to get out of the house.”

Dan smiled, “That’s fine. I’ll be okay.”

She kissed him again.

“You better go, that’s more than five minutes. Don’t want you to be late to school.”

She opened the car door and rolled all the windows down.

“Daddy!” The baby called out and reached for him. Dan smiled, but knew that he couldn’t wait not to hear that call for a few hours.

Christine didn’t wait, she put the car in reverse and pulled out of the driveway.

“Have fun kiddos!” Dan called out. He watched as they waved and sped away. Dan saw Amelia’s hand out the window, waving to him.

For the first time in forever he was alone in the house. He stood there dazed for a moment in this uncharted territory.

The car pulled around the corner so he headed back inside, stopping for a moment to pick up a toy that had been left outside.

Dan opened the front door and looked in. The entryway looked like a disaster.

His shoulders slumped as he saw all that lay before him. He stepped into the house and found his headphones. If he were going to clean, he’d at least do it listening to something he wanted for once.

He swiped through his phone, greeted by his app recommending his kids’ favorite hits. His recommendations long ago wiped clean like the sand at the beach.

Instead, he moved over to his podcasts. He had recently started listening to a podcast about haunted places, which excited and terrified him.

The latest episode had been about a young woman who had gone crazy in her house. At first, it had felt a little too close to his life, but he wanted to see what happened.

“So, they found her in the house, the doors locked. According to the reports, it looked like she hadn’t had anything to eat or drink for weeks, even though her family had only left a few hours before,” the guest told the host.

“The doors were locked?” the host asked.

“Yes. And, they found claw marks across every door to the outside and paint under her fingernails. The woman had gouged her eyes out as well.”

Dan shivered as he bent down to pick up magnetic tiles off the ground. Imagining the poor tortured woman had him question his listening choices. He put the magnetic tiles away when he noticed something move.

He squatted down to pick up some other random toys and duck walked to the storage unit to put them away. Dan smiled before he put away the doll Amelia had given to Max last night. He remembered what happened with all the slaps and screams the two had gone through just after. A reminder of why he wished for this alone time.

He twisted to his left and glanced over to the now-clean spot on the floor. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, but he couldn’t get the hairs on the back of his neck to calm down. He ran his hand down the back of his neck, trying to push them back down.

He shook his head, trying to shake the eerie feeling away. It had to have just been a shadow, flowing across the floor. Still, he couldn’t get himself to go back to his cleaning.

“So, who was she?” the host asked, bringing him back to the present.

“Honestly, no one. She wasn’t famous or important in history; otherwise, her story would have been much bigger. Ida Wilhelm was just a simple mother during the fifties.

“The police chalked it up as a suicide. The notes say she just went crazy and killed herself.”

Dan scrunched his face up at the mention of no one as he tried to figure out who would do something like that to a simple mother.

“But you don’t think so?” The host asked.

“I don’t. My mom died just like that when I was four-“

Dan held his breath as a silence built between the hosts. Dan had to check to make sure he hadn’t paused the audio. Finally, the host said, “My God.”

“Yeah. The police dubbed my mother’s death a suicide, but there’s no way she would do that. That’s what got me researching these incidents. I found these going back through history. It always happened to women in their thirties or forties with kids. Whatever happened would occur when the person was home alone,” the man said.

Dan gulped. He had cleaned most of the floor, but he hadn’t been able to get the idea out of his head that something had moved. His skin crawled and he kept checking his surroundings. He had the feeling whatever he had seen was still with him inside, but it wasn’t on the floor anywhere.

He looked up, but only saw the bare ceiling. Dan shook his head and tried to make himself feel better by chuckling. He had worked himself into a frenzy. The podcast had put him on edge. He changed the podcast to music. He’d much rather listen to some light-hearted kids’ music than any more of this podcast, ultimately he picked some Imagine Dragons to rid his brain of unwarranted fear.

As the music started, he heard a bump come from upstairs. He glanced at the ceiling, knowing that Amelia wasn’t up there to be jumping around.

Dan ran up to Amelia’s empty room and threw the door open. He took his headphones out and spun around, searching for the source of the thunk. Something had fallen, but nothing looked amiss.

He shook his head and returned to the first floor. All the dirty dishes and uneaten food stared at him, but he needed to get out of the house.

Dan grabbed his keys and sprinted out the door. He fumbled with the handle of his truck as the locks finally clicked, and he threw open the door and dove in.

As he sat in the driver’s seat, he looked at his house. He questioned if it had always been that dark. Dan shook his head and started the truck unwilling to wait any longer.

He moved the shifter to reverse and pulled out of the driveway. Dan looked at the front of the house he thought he would love forever. A shadow moved near the door. The brakes stopped the truck as if it hit a wall, jolting him forward. He leaned toward the passenger side window and narrowed his eyes to examine what it was.

“There were scrapes on the inside of the doors and windows,” the Podcast blared through his stereo. Dan startled, as he hadn’t started the podcast. “There was paint and wood under my mom’s fingertips. Just like the others.”

Dan poked at the volume knob, silencing the voices, and then squinted again to look at his front door. His wife’s flowers swayed in the breeze, but he didn’t see anything else.

But he knew something had moved there.

He jumped as his phone vibrated on the armrest.

A smiling picture of Christine looked up at him. His heart slowed, and a calmness washed through him. He glanced at the door and chuckled, before making a note to delete that podcast from his phone when he was done with the call.

“Hey baby,” he said as he answered.

“How are you doing with the quiet?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m good,” he lied.

“Listen, I have to go quick. Just wanted you to know that the carpenter is on his way. Said he should be there in twenty minutes or less.”

“Or it’s free?” Dan jested.

“Huh? Look, I got to go. It’s crazy here.”

The connection broke, and the speakers went silent. Dan bit his lower lip as he looked at his home. He had just tried to flee, but he felt trapped yet again. He looked in his rearview mirror hoping for some reason to move, but he didn’t find one. Instead, he waited in his car for a moment longer, before walking back to the house, his head hanging forward.

Dan opened the front door and waited. He scanned the area for anything and kept as much focus on his peripheral as possible. If something moved again, he wanted to be ready to find it.

But he entered uneventfully.

Dan picked up the last of the things off the ground on his way to the couch, but he had no more plans to clean. Instead, he threw himself on the couch and turned on the next episode of Parks and Rec.  

Before he knew it, he watched three entire episodes. He checked his watch. The carpenter must have been pretty terrible at estimating time. It didn’t give much confidence in the numbers the man might provide.

He turned back to the television, but as he did, he blinked, feeling woozy. It looked like the room had shrunk. He blinked as if his focus on the TV had distorted his vision. He snapped his head left and right, before deciding once again that his mind was playing tricks on him.

Dan jolted up and checked his phone again, but the screen remained blank. All the clocks in the kitchen flashed like the power had cut off, yet the TV never went off.

Dan’s heart accelerated with each beat. A thudding sound vibrated through his head. He couldn’t catch his breath.

Dan wanted nothing more than to escape. His heart pounded in his chest and his lungs tried to match his heart’s speed. He sprinted for the door, but the distance felt wrong. It felt like he crossed the sprawling living room in two steps. He was unable to explain it, but the house had definitely shrunk.

The doorknob resisted in his hand. At first, Dan thought the plastic child safety lock on the handle had broken, but it wouldn’t budge. Nothing worked.

He balled his hands into fists and slammed them into the glass with all the strength he could muster. His hands just bounced off the door.

Panic threatened to overwhelm him. He had worked himself up so much he couldn’t think straight. He closed his eyes and focused on taking long, calming breaths. His heart slowed back to normal. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.

Once he felt calmer, he opened his eyes and focused on the plastic doorknob cover. His hand grasped it, but not as tight as he had before. The thing still wouldn’t turn. He squeezed the release tabs together and unlatched it from the door.

He grabbed the metal of the doorknob and it refused to turn. Again he tried, but the result didn’t change.

He turned towards the living room and the back door. If this door wouldn’t open, maybe that one would. He dropped the plastic safety cover to the floor and spun around.

It moved again. A creature with skin the color of burned charcoal stepped out of the shadows. Its eyes opened to reveal the orange and red of a still-smoldering piece of coal. Its hair spread out in all directions around its head. The demon crawled up the wall like a spider into the shadows, which had grown larger as the house shrank.

Dan’s heart beat faster than ever before. He fled to the back door. There would be no point in rationalizing what he had seen. There was something in his house and it was messing with his mind.

He clamped his fingers around the doorknob to the back door and twisted. The knob didn’t move. Instead, his fingers slid around it.

“What do you want from me?” Dan shouted.

A hiss greeted him, yet he heard, I’m fulfilling your wish to have some time alone.

As the words registered, he lashed out at the door with rage. He punched at the door until his fists bled. Then he threw his body, shoulder-first, into the door. It wouldn’t budge. He slumped to the ground, his mouth as dry as sandpaper.

Inside the kitchen, he grabbed a pan from the stove. He weighed it in his hand, then hurled it at the back door window.

The pan bounced off like one of the kids’ toys hitting a pillow.

Dan ran forward, scooping up the pan as he crossed. He swung against the window, hoping to break free.

Nothing happened.

It’s useless, the hiss came out from the shadows.

Dan dropped the pan and grabbed at the door frame. His muscles strained with every part of his being. His fingernails dug into the door, but his hands slid as he tried to pull. The paint and wood dug under his fingertips, causing him to scream in pain.

But the door wouldn’t open.

You’re mine

Dan let go of the door and moved to the living room and toward the wall of pictures. He stopped at a picture of his family. Amelia looked much smaller than he remembered, while Max looked very much like a baby still.

Dan rubbed his thumb across Amelia’s cheek in the frame. He had wanted so badly to be alone earlier, in the middle of all the chaos, but now, he just wanted to see his family again. Tears streamed from his cheek as he realized he would never get to smell Amelia’s hair again or to see any of them smile at him.

He went cold, as if he had stepped out into the Arctic. His arms vibrated, and his chest felt empty.

Icy cold fingers stroked his chin from behind. He heard the smacking of lips as the hiss whispered you’re all alone now.

Dan collapsed to the floor, his hands trying to rub away the tears. He looked up at the creature, whose red eyes focused deep into his. Dan twisted away, but everywhere he looked, the creature’s face stalked him.

He couldn’t bare to look anymore, so he tried to claw his eyes out. The blood flowed, and the world went dark.

As the creature lowered its mouth to consume him, Dan clutched his bloody fingers around the framed picture. He wanted to remember everything he could about his children and all the times they had together as he drifted off into nothing.

Further Reading

I hope you enjoyed Stuck, or it atleast left you feeling a certain way. Let me know what you thought of it in the comments.

If you’d like to read more of my work, make sure you swing by my Fiction hub aka the library. Where you can find all my works of fiction.

If you enjoyed this horror story through, you might check out The House Guest or Night, Night Sweet Prince.

Thank you for reading.