Skittering in the Dark, That Noise in Your House Isn’t the Pipes
Ever notice howaa the house sounds different at night? You know the ones. Not the regular creaks, the other noises. The ones that don’t fit. That’s where Bradyn Harrison’s “Skittering in the Dark” lives, in that space between a settling foundation and something else entirely. It claws right out of his collection, Sinister Scrawlings, turning your own home against you.
Let’s talk about fear for a second. Real fear, not the jump-scare stuff. The slow, cold kind that starts in your stomach and climbs. It’s in the dry mouth, the numb fingers, the way your own heartbeat becomes a threat. Harrison, a cryptid researcher out in Western Canada, gets that. Probably from all those lake investigations, listening for things that shouldn’t be. That expertise bleeds into the fiction, making it feel authentic and stick.
This excerpt isn’t about a monster you see. It’s about the thing you hear. Thumps through the wall. Wrong sounds. Hard points on plaster, climbing down. The logic you frantically try to stitch together just keeps unravelling. The story captures that precise moment when your safe place becomes a haunted house, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do but listen, sweat, and hope it passes by. It’s brutal.
You finish reading, and the quiet of your own room gets a little too loud. You start cataloguing the sounds. That’s the effect. Harrison doesn’t just write scary stories; he engineers nightmares from the mundane. And this is just one tale from the tome. Imagine what the others do.
Skittering in the Dark Excerpt

My eyes flew open. A thump through the walls echoed throughout the whole house. I breathed
heavily and hard as I barely contained the exhales that escaped my mouth. I was awash with sweat,
white as paper. My fingers feel numb for some reason.
My tongue was annoyingly dry from being open for the last few hours and I was faced with an
intensifying thirsty impulse. I sucked in some spit and re-moisturized my mouth. I listened closely to
the sounds, blinking in confusion and tiredness. I felt like I was embraced by crippling uncertainty
and a cutting unease. I tried to move my neck but the muscles were so stiff it was like adjusting a
piece of jagged wood to pivot. My eyes darted to the wall, to the ceiling, to the door, and to the
ceiling again, frenzied.
I slowed my breathing down just enough to get a grasp of what was going on. My heart banged
against my ribcage, feeling like it was ready to burst out of my body and onto the floor.
Thump! Another one came, this time much clearer. Then, it was followed by a softer one. I bit my
tongue as hot terror swirled in my chest as I held my breath. I listened intently, helpless to feel
anything but fear. The thumps slowly resounded through the space, taking their time as they
moseyed. They didn’t sound like footfalls; they were like the ones made hard points jamming into the
finishes and walls.
I closed my eyes and tried to ignore it. I kept telling myself things to reassure myself; “It’s just the
floors settling”
,
“You’re just freaked out from what happened today” and on & on.
The sounds kept happening, no matter what I did. I had to face the reality that this was not my
imagination, not the house settling or even some animal that got into my home.
It started faint and then the sounds shifted…more to the right wall. It was as if it climbed out ofsomewhere and walked downwards to the floor–which sounded exactly like it was. It didn’t drop
onto the floor. Whatever it was, it was climbing down from somewhere. Every step rattled the house
and those damned noises seemed to come from everywhere. Goose pimples sharply rose on my arms,
shoulders, and legs.
It walked around, at least from what I heard, for a little while like it was checking out its
surroundings. Suddenly, I hear those points walk forward, patiently and deliberately. They clacked
along the hard surface like knives jammed in, with another doing the same. Just like the others, I
could hear them up in my bedroom.
My mind raced with possibilities, each struck down by my fraying logic. Nothing made sense! No
animal or human could make those sounds that way and I sure as hell didn’t notice anything when I
checked downstairs earlier. Besides, how could I be so sure where–
The sounds then began to come up the stairs. Each one hit the constructs like delicate glass, echoing
throughout the house with footfalls and creaks.
Bradyn Harrison is a writer and artist living in Western Canada, primarily writing in either speculative fiction
featuring strange creatures and nonfiction.
Bradyn is a cryptid researcher too, and has investigated reports of aquatic mysteries at Okanagan,
Shuswap, and Kalamalka Lakes. He aims to write a book on his searches in the nea future.
He runs a Youtube channel called BEASTIARY where he shows people how to draw cool creatures with
unique art challenges.
He had previously written under Wild Hunt under the pen name “Brion Halloway” and will be writing cryptid
nonfiction under “Brayden Halvorsen” soon. He loves to listen to music, travel, read, hike, be with friends &
family, swim, learn about Nature, paleontology, anthropology and other neat things.
SINISTER SCRAWLINGS: Terrifying Tales to Read in the Dead of Night (Volume One) by Bradyn Harrison
There are things in this world that scare us beyond belief… and fear comes in many forms.
Get a seat, find a dark space–or turn off the lights, find a flashlight and turn the page!
Fear will find you as you open the pages of this sinister collection of short frights to make you huddle closer to the dying light around you.
In this first tome of Sinister Scrawlings, you’ll read about:
- A man who has left his backyard door open learns a valuable, if frightful, lesson as he hears something unnatural skittering around his house and basement;
- A cabin on a hill lies decrepit and lifeless–except on nights where it is invaded.
- A boy on a school camping trip listens to a tale about something that lurks in the woods–only everyone present is now being eyed by a presence in the woods.
Those and many more scary stories are waiting inside for anyone who loves a good chill and scare to their reading night.
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