A/N: I had the sudden urge to write something creepy, which I think was inspired by seeing the trailers on TV for the film The Strangers (which I'd quite like to see, but masked people freak me out!).

This is the prologue, so it's not very long, but hopefully you'll like it enough to want me to continue!

Disclaimer: The Mighty Boosh and all affiliated characters belongs to Julian Barratt and Noel Fielding.

xxxx

The sound of his barely controlled heavy breathing was all Vince could hear as he crouched behind the door of a cupboard, staring out of the carved slits in the wood with wide, terrified eyes, his fingers digging into the edge of the old door as he tried desperately to hold it shut. His heart hammered against his rib cage, his chest aching, a cold sweat dripping down his face. He wanted to hear the sound again and never wanted to hear it again all at once. Hearing it would mean that they would find him – not hearing it would leave Vince too scared to ever move, just in case. But whatever he did at that moment, he knew he wouldn't be safe.

The cupboard he was in was musty, smelt faintly of old varnish, and was only just big enough to hold him. Peering out of the slits, Vince could see the window on the other side of the room. Beyond that, he could see a faint smattering of stars in the sky and the dull glow of the moon, which was mostly covered in cloud, providing almost no light in the dark room. Rain poured down, occasionally accompanied by a flash of lightning and a loud clap of thunder. Vince flicked his eyes over to the door of the room and kept them there, as frightened to look away as he was to keep watch. He trembled, frozen to the spot and trying to push down the nausea that was threatening to rise inside him.

Then he jumped.

Biting his lip to stop the scream he was holding in from escaping, and shaking violently, Vince unconsciously dug his nails into the cupboard door as he clung to it, the splinters working their way under his nails and breaking the skin, little spots of blood pooling on his flesh. The stairs outside the door to the room were creaking, the noise getting louder as the thing on the other side climbed slowly closer. Vince knew it was futile for him to pray for it to be Howard – he wasn't that lucky, and for all he knew, Howard could already be dead. Vince's eyes welled up at the thought of his best friend – what if they had already got to him? He would have died alone and terrified and... Vince shook his head. He had to focus. The house was big, but he was sure he would have heard if Howard had been...

Tears slipped silently down Vince's face, and he wanted to sniff, but he was too afraid of the noise it would make. Fighting the tight feeling in his chest that was on the verge of making him hyperventilate, he concentrated on the door, so much that even the beat of the rain against the window was silenced. The creaking stopped, and a shadow passed through the gap under the door; then it started again as it was slowly pushed open. Vince shook all the more, willing his body to let him pass out; but then they probably wouldn't be so kind as to kill him in his sleep. Was it better to get it over with rather than deal with the absolute agony of waiting? All Vince wanted to do was scream and panic, but the faint voice in the back of his head that was telling him to hold onto his life for as long as possible wouldn't let him - not even when the sound he couldn't bear to hear again escaped from the mouth of the thing now in the room; a horrible, unearthly clicking sound, a noise that came from deep at the back of the throat and sounded like it was straight from Hell.

Vince bit his lip harder until he tasted the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. Fighting desperately to control himself as the horror outside of his little cupboard came into view, Vince channelled all his thoughts onto the one person he trusted more than anything in the world, even though he knew he was about to die, and, for a moment, he felt a little safer.

Seconds later, the cupboard door was wrenched open, and as Vince tumbled out, he looked up into glowing red eyes, and screamed.

xxxx

Armed with the largest knife he could find, Howard moved carefully along the wall he was pressed up against, knowing that the smallest noise could give him away. He'd already heard creaking from above him, and hoped with all his heart that it was Vince, because, in truth, he had no idea where Vince was. Then again, he hoped it wasn't Vince, because that would mean he could be found at any moment. Heart pounding in his ears, Howard continued to step forward. He felt sick and was starting to realise what it actually meant to have the life frightened out of you. But he had to find his friend; more than anything, he had to find him.

Howard's head snapped round suddenly as something scurried across the floor behind him. In the dim light he could just make out the outline of a mouse as it darted into a hole in the wall. Allowing himself to breathe a small sigh of relief, he continued on his way, his brow glistening with perspiration. He swiped at it with a muddy sleeve, the dirt leaving its mark on his face. Silently, he begged for a miracle, for someone to come in and rescue them from this place of unspeakable evil.

Pausing as he reached a corner, Howard quickly glanced around him, holding the knife close to his front as he held his breath and peered round the wall. There was nothing there, a flash of lightning briefly illuminating a hallway with dusty floorboards and a staircase at the end. Howard slipped round and made his way along it, stopping briefly to push open a door and stick his head inside what he knew to be the music room. Squeezing his eyes shut briefly, he whispered Vince's name as loud as he dared too. When he received no answer in return, he had to fight the uncontrollable urge to cry. Composing himself, he stepped back out into the hall and continued along. He knew, from common sense and from watching too many horror films, that he was potentially trapping himself if he ascended above ground level, but the fact that he was stuck in the middle of nowhere told him he was no safer wherever he was.

Howard winced as the cuts on his face stung uncomfortably, the wound on his head throbbing, and he touched it briefly, feeling the blood starting to clot. As he reached the stairs, he once again heard the creaking sound from before.

Then there was a thump and a bloodcurdling scream.

Howard yelled Vince's name, and ran.