Episode 4 Script: The Thing in the Crawlspace

Episode 4: The Thing in the Crawlspace

By Grace Antiedu 

The first time it said my name, I was brushing my teeth.

Alone. Quiet.

Then, from behind me -low, cracked and crawling with static -

“Akwasi ....”

I froze.

The voice was mine, but broken. Like someone trying to copy it from memory.

I turned. No one.

Just the hallway, yawning open. And the crawlspace beneath the stairs, darker than ever.

My brother started changing faster. He drew pictures in red crayon -of me, sleeping, with long black arms reaching from the ceiling. Of the crawlspace wide open, with people crawling inside.

He didn’t call it Tomi anymore.

He called it “Brother".

“He says I was the replacement,” my brother said. “He says you forgot him. He’s coming to finish the trade".

That night, I bolted the hallway door. Nailed it shut. Pushed furniture in front of it.

Still, at 2:03 am, woke to find the door wide open. This time, I heard it crawling.

Not just from beneath the stairs, but through the walls. 

Slow. Wet. 

It dragged something behind it -something heavy that thudded against the wood in perfect rhythm with my heartbeat.

And then, just outside my bedroom door, it whispered again:

“Akwasi. You were supposed to die first".

The night it came into my room, I didn’t scream.

I couldn’t.

The air turned thick, like syrup. My limbs wouldn’t move. The door creaked open on its own, and from the hallway, it dragged itself across the floor -all bone and shadow, teeth too many, eyes too empty.

And it spoke.

“They chose you. But you lived. So I waited".

It dropped something at the foot of my bed.

A hospital tag. My name on it. And another -faded, crumpled, stained. “Nana.”

The crawlspace, it said, was a memory. One that rots in silence until someone brings it back.

And I had brought it back.

“You forgot him,” it said. “But your brother remembered. He tried to protect you. So I offered him the trade".

My little brother.

He had given himself -to keep me safe.

But I wouldn’t let that stand.

So I crawled into the crawlspace.

I whispered a name I hadn’t spoken in thirteen years. And when I opened my eyes, I was in a crib, staring up at a ceiling fan. I was a baby again, and Nana was beside me.

But this time, I chose him.

They found me in the hallway the next morning, cradling my brother. He was alive. Smiling. Safe.

Me?

I still dream of the crawlspace. Of long fingers and hospital lights. Of a trade sealed in silence.

But I remember Nana now.

And that’s what keeps it from coming back. .....For now.

End of Story – “The Thing in the Crawlspace”

Next: A pastor receives a confessional from a dead woman -and opens a letter that was never meant to be read.