Creepypasta: Mr. Dark and Mrs. Red

    A boy lived in a haunted house. Every night, he would be disturbed by the screaming and yelling that occurred below him, and he would sit on the stairs before the front door, and cry. Every time he closed his eyes in the empty room he called his own, he could feel the sensation of being shaken, and hear the muffled shouting of a man. He would jolt aware time and again, and stay awake every night. Whenever he thought about closing his eyes, he would shake, as if going into a seizure. He hated feeling it. And he hated the feeling of being alone, wishing that his mother and father would come home soon.

When the screaming would finally die off, he could hear the sound of his door opening, and a woman, surrounded by a red haze would enter his room, hover for a minute, sobbing uncontrollably, and then disappear. The boy never knew what to call her, so he called the woman in the red mists Mrs. Red. It was apparent to him that she cried because of the other person in his home that mainly resided downstairs, and every night that she came, he wished, as hard as anyone can wish, that he could at least hug her, and tell her it would be okay. But he could never get the courage to talk to her.

He would wait a few minutes after Mrs. Red left, and then head back to the stairs, to stare into the living room where the TV would be on every night. A man in white mists, called Mr. Dark because he only appeared in darkness and while the TV was on, sat in a chair, never moving, never speaking. The boy would watch him for hours, until the TV would turn back off, and Mr. Dark would disappear. Every night, the boy could see Mr. Dark's anger, but he could also see something greater beyond it: sadness. The boy could tell Mr. Dark was sad, like his heart had been broken, and no one could help him repair it. So the boy would silently cry for Mr. Dark, and knew that his words to Mrs. Red was pain instead of anger, but the both of them responded as if it was. And that made the boy even lonelier.

Eventually, the morning would come, and the boy would stand up, wipe his eyes, and proceed to leave. Every day, he promised himself he would find someone to help him, leave forever, and never come back. He would fling open the door, rush outside, and make straight for the woods. He had been through them many times, and knew all the landmarks. Tiller's Creek. The Tadpole Whirls. The half charred tree that was felled by lightning. He knew the backwoods path to get to the city and the police station. But every time he reached the tree, like clockwork, he would grow very tired, lay beside the charred tree, and fall asleep. And like clockwork, every time he would wake up, it would be near dark, and the fear of what was in the woods would force him to hurry home.

Home to the empty house, with Mr. Dark and Mrs. Red.

And every night, he could hear the screaming and yelling, and all he could do was sit on the stairs, and cry.

One night, the screaming was incredibly powerful, and the words being yelled were despairingly painful. And then he heard something he had never heard before: Mrs. Red was fighting back. She screamed that if Mr. Dark hadn't dared treat he like he actually loved her, then maybe they both wouldn't have been hurt so badly. Mr. Dark railed back that she's truly at fault, but Mrs. Red would have none of it. Her words became more spiteful, and Mr. Dark's became more pitiful, until without notice, the house became quiet.

Usually, when the house became quiet, Mrs. Red would appear in the boy's room, cry, and then disappear. But that night, the boy waited and waited, but Mrs. Red didn't come. He opened his door, called out to her, peeked his head into the hallway, but she wouldn't appear. He checked downstairs, and saw that the TV was off, but Mr. Dark was sitting in the living room. All alone. Crying. And the boy didn't know what to do, so he sat down on the stairs, and cried with Mr. Dark.

For a long while, the boy would attempt his escape, fall asleep, return, and spend the rest of the night crying on the stairs with Mr. Dark. For a long while, he promised he would leave and never return, and come back. For a long while, he would see the pain that Mr. Dark felt, and feel it too. And for a long while, he would wish as hard as anyone could for his parents to come home. And he would close his eyes, go into a slight fit, hear the muffled shouting in his ears, and bring himself back to awareness. But every day he would return, and every night his parents never came home. And every night, he became lonelier still.

Then one day, he flung open his door and ran for the backwoods. He didn't promise himself anything, and he decided to just get as far away as he could. No Mr. Dark. No Mrs. Red. No more loneliness, or screaming, or crying. Just get as far as possible, and to not look back.

He reached Tiller's Creek, and stopped to catch his breath. He felt his head starting to turn back towards the house, but he refused to and began to run again.

He reached the Tadpole Whirls and collapsed on the bank. He stared at the swirling water, and followed it's movement down the stream. When he realized that he was starting to look back at the house, he twisted his neck with a loud, thick pop, stood up, and began running again.

He reached the charred tree, and fell into it very heavily. His head met the wood, and he became unconscious. He felt great pain, and he could see the outlines of a man in darkness, reaching for him, and screaming with great urgency. There was something familiar about him, but the boy's vision was greatly impaired. He could tell there was something important in what the man was saying, but his screaming was so muffled that he couldn't make out one word. He turned to look at the man, but the boy's sight lolled to the side, and he could see a woman outlined in red, rushing towards the two of them. And then darkness.

The boy woke up in the forest, and it was well past nightfall. The boy scrambled to his feet, and ran towards the sound of running water. He quickly reached the Tadpole Whirls, and collapsed at the bank. His ragged breathing from fear and sprinting quickly caught in his throat when he saw the pools frozen still. He looked down the stream, not one thing moving, not even the water, and the boy became even more scared. He ran towards Tiller's Creek, the lack of sound deafening him, and causing him to shake uncontrollably. He had to get home. He had to get to his empty, lonely home.

When he broke through the forest, he made a made dash for the door. He grabbed the knob, flung it open, and was greeted with absolute darkness. No TV, no lights, no furniture, no Mr. Dark. Now the boy was truly and utterly alone. He ran from room to room, calling for the two figures he had spent so much time with. But both Mrs. Red and Mr. Dark were gone. Just like his parents.

So the lonely boy went to the stairs that he tripped and fell down many years ago, breaking his neck in front of his father as he got home, sat down, and began to cry. Wishing as hard as anyone can wish that his parents would come home soon.