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Description
   My name is Sophia and I’m 24 years old. When I turned 21, I decided to live on my own. I won’t go into too much detail, but due to certain difficulties, I was only able to rent a really small apartment. It was a poor lit, 35 square meters and un-furniced room, with one bathroom and a small kitchen, but it was all mine. Also, it was really cheap and, considering the age of the building, really well preserved, almost like new. With a little work, it would be fine to live a couple of years.
   I was pleased, with my choice to stay there. But one day of the 3rd month, I began to hear strange, noises all over the house. It was like something was slithering. Trying to locate the source, I found out that it came from inside the walls and more specifically, the pipes. The noises didn’t dissipated, but they didn’t increase in frequency, always beginning at midday and stopping at midnight. My landlady called a plumber to examine the issue. He examined all the pipes, he even put a cable camera in one of the pipes but didn’t found anything. The noises was at their peek, at the time, but neither the landlady, nor the plumber heard anything. I became used to it... although it was kinda creepy.
   The next month a compulsion came over me... to clean the apartment from top to bottom. At first, it was once a week and later once a day. But no matter how much I cleaned it never felt... clean. I was so disgusted to touch anything in my apartment. I found myself, more that often, standing erect, in the middle of the room, afraid to sit down thinking that everything is filthy. At the end I would go out and sit at a café near my building. I would think that “This is stupid. Everything is squeaky clean. What I’m afraid of?” Getting back home after a while, everything would be OK, but the next day, I would repeat the same little ritual.
   This continued till the anniversary of my first year. I was completely worn out. I lost weight and I began taking baths more often. I always felt dirty. All my friends, completely abandoned me, because I wouldn’t see them for weeks. I even began skipping work to clean the apartment.
   When it happened, it was a hard, long day. The noise was louder than other times, causing me to have a headache. I kept cleaning all day, and although I could see my reflection on the floor, I wasn’t satisfied. It was almost midnight. I felt so tired. I thought “Screw this... I will continue tomorrow”. The noise had already stopped. I stumbled into the bathroom, to have my last bath of the day. No matter how tired I was, I couldn’t sleep if I didn’t take a shower.
   The water felt so great. As I reached to grab my shampoo and sponge, my eyes fell on the drain and... there it was. Without any warning, without a sound... I could not believe what I was seeing. At first it was just a black blob, then it grew fast and began throwing little tentacles of black goo, sticking to the tiles and it grew, and grew. As I tried to get out of the shower, I slipped and smashed on the tiled floor. I did not loose conscience. I wish I did. I turned at the direction of the drain and it had taken the shape of a head and the upper torso of a man. Small, black tentacles, writhing and whipping at all directions, covered it’s mass. It smelled like rotten water or sewage. I got myself to sit up, still holding the sponge at my hand, squeezing it like it could make that thing disappear. The face, that lacked any features, began convulsing violently and three slits opened serving as a mouth and eyes. I felt my senses leaving me. I was ready to pass out and then it began to talk. “Filthy” it said with a gurgle. “FILTHY... SCRUB HARDER, FILTHY” it yelled. “SCRUB, SCRUB, SCRUB...” I began screaming. I screamed and screamed, till my throat began to scrape, as it repeated “SCRUB, SCRUB, FILTHY BITCH, SCRUB HARDER...” Then I saw the blood.
   At first I thought that I busted my head, or scraped my arms... But it was so much. I felt a numb pain. I looked at my right hand and it was covered with blood and something was hanging between my fingers and the sponge. It was skin, with parts of flesh. My skin. My flesh. Two of my nails where gone and the others were busted. The thing smiled, revealing, gleaming, white teeth. I turned, to my left. My arm was a mess. Parts of flesh hanging down from the bone, with busted skin on them. I could see my veins and muscles torn apart. The smell of blood with the odor of sewage made me choke on what little I had eaten. I threw up.
   The thing continued to smile. “See, no matter how hard you scrub, no matter how much you try to clean, you’ll always be filthy... You and everything you touch” It gurgled as I faded out.
   When I came to, I was at the hospital. My left arm was covered in gauzes. When I asked the nurse how I came here she said that my landlady found me, stopped the bleeding and called an ambulance. “Thank God for her” I thought “She must have heard me, screaming”. I decided not say anything about what happened... who would believe me. “A fucking monster made me scrub my arm to the bone without me noticing”. Yeah right. To my shock, my supervising doctor, told me that the damage to my arm was done due to repeated, violent, friction over a long period of time. I don’t think that my experience was more than a few minutes. Everyone thought that I did it to myself due to severe stress. I was even given a card of a psychiatrist, by one doctor. He suggested that I visit him, but I never went. I abandoned all hope that someday I will come to a conclusion of what happened to me.
   Needless to say that I never went back to the apartment. I didn’t even get my stuff back. I later learned, that the previous owner was a man obsessed with cleanliness. One day he disappeared without a trace.
   I’m alright now. I have lost 20% mobility of my left arm, but I’m optimistic. I have a good job, a beautiful apartment and a very caring boyfriend.
   I don’t know why I write this letter now. It’s been 3 years since then... Maybe because I feel, lately, a little odd. Like something bad is gonna happen. I want someone to know what happened to me. Maybe it’s because...Yes... because... some times I feel... that a shadow slithers it’s way towards me and it whispers something to my ear... It’s voice has a slight gurgle. I can barely hear it... but I know... and I want everyone to know... that no matter how much we try... under the surface... we’ll always be filthy.

THE END.

This is an illustration and the story of a horror storybook I'm planning to make.
Made in Corel Draw X5. Story by me. Thanks for reading. I did write a page to go with the image... but I can't find any format (Digital art, Literature, etc.) that includes storybook.

Description
   My name is Sophia and I’m 24 years old. When I turned 21, I decided to live on my own. I won’t go into too much detail, but due to certain difficulties, I was only able to rent a really small apartment. It was a poor lit, 35 square meters and un-furniced room, with one bathroom and a small kitchen, but it was all mine. Also, it was really cheap and, considering the age of the building, really well preserved, almost like new. With a little work, it would be fine to live a couple of years.
   I was pleased, with my choice to stay there. But one day of the 3rd month, I began to hear strange, noises all over the house. It was like something was slithering. Trying to locate the source, I found out that it came from inside the walls and more specifically, the pipes. The noises didn’t dissipated, but they didn’t increase in frequency, always beginning at midday and stopping at midnight. My landlady called a plumber to examine the issue. He examined all the pipes, he even put a cable camera in one of the pipes but didn’t found anything. The noises was at their peek, at the time, but neither the landlady, nor the plumber heard anything. I became used to it... although it was kinda creepy.
   The next month a compulsion came over me... to clean the apartment from top to bottom. At first, it was once a week and later once a day. But no matter how much I cleaned it never felt... clean. I was so disgusted to touch anything in my apartment. I found myself, more that often, standing erect, in the middle of the room, afraid to sit down thinking that everything is filthy. At the end I would go out and sit at a café near my building. I would think that “This is stupid. Everything is squeaky clean. What I’m afraid of?” Getting back home after a while, everything would be OK, but the next day, I would repeat the same little ritual.
   This continued till the anniversary of my first year. I was completely worn out. I lost weight and I began taking baths more often. I always felt dirty. All my friends, completely abandoned me, because I wouldn’t see them for weeks. I even began skipping work to clean the apartment.
   When it happened, it was a hard, long day. The noise was louder than other times, causing me to have a headache. I kept cleaning all day, and although I could see my reflection on the floor, I wasn’t satisfied. It was almost midnight. I felt so tired. I thought “Screw this... I will continue tomorrow”. The noise had already stopped. I stumbled into the bathroom, to have my last bath of the day. No matter how tired I was, I couldn’t sleep if I didn’t take a shower.
   The water felt so great. As I reached to grab my shampoo and sponge, my eyes fell on the drain and... there it was. Without any warning, without a sound... I could not believe what I was seeing. At first it was just a black blob, then it grew fast and began throwing little tentacles of black goo, sticking to the tiles and it grew, and grew. As I tried to get out of the shower, I slipped and smashed on the tiled floor. I did not loose conscience. I wish I did. I turned at the direction of the drain and it had taken the shape of a head and the upper torso of a man. Small, black tentacles, writhing and whipping at all directions, covered it’s mass. It smelled like rotten water or sewage. I got myself to sit up, still holding the sponge at my hand, squeezing it like it could make that thing disappear. The face, that lacked any features, began convulsing violently and three slits opened serving as a mouth and eyes. I felt my senses leaving me. I was ready to pass out and then it began to talk. “Filthy” it said with a gurgle. “FILTHY... SCRUB HARDER, FILTHY” it yelled. “SCRUB, SCRUB, SCRUB...” I began screaming. I screamed and screamed, till my throat began to scrape, as it repeated “SCRUB, SCRUB, FILTHY BITCH, SCRUB HARDER...” Then I saw the blood.
   At first I thought that I busted my head, or scraped my arms... But it was so much. I felt a numb pain. I looked at my right hand and it was covered with blood and something was hanging between my fingers and the sponge. It was skin, with parts of flesh. My skin. My flesh. Two of my nails where gone and the others were busted. The thing smiled, revealing, gleaming, white teeth. I turned, to my left. My arm was a mess. Parts of flesh hanging down from the bone, with busted skin on them. I could see my veins and muscles torn apart. The smell of blood with the odor of sewage made me choke on what little I had eaten. I threw up.
   The thing continued to smile. “See, no matter how hard you scrub, no matter how much you try to clean, you’ll always be filthy... You and everything you touch” It gurgled as I faded out.
   When I came to, I was at the hospital. My left arm was covered in gauzes. When I asked the nurse how I came here she said that my landlady found me, stopped the bleeding and called an ambulance. “Thank God for her” I thought “She must have heard me, screaming”. I decided not say anything about what happened... who would believe me. “A fucking monster made me scrub my arm to the bone without me noticing”. Yeah right. To my shock, my supervising doctor, told me that the damage to my arm was done due to repeated, violent, friction over a long period of time. I don’t think that my experience was more than a few minutes. Everyone thought that I did it to myself due to severe stress. I was even given a card of a psychiatrist, by one doctor. He suggested that I visit him, but I never went. I abandoned all hope that someday I will come to a conclusion of what happened to me.
   Needless to say that I never went back to the apartment. I didn’t even get my stuff back. I later learned, that the previous owner was a man obsessed with cleanliness. One day he disappeared without a trace.
   I’m alright now. I have lost 20% mobility of my left arm, but I’m optimistic. I have a good job, a beautiful apartment and a very caring boyfriend.
   I don’t know why I write this letter now. It’s been 3 years since then... Maybe because I feel, lately, a little odd. Like something bad is gonna happen. I want someone to know what happened to me. Maybe it’s because...Yes... because... some times I feel... that a shadow slithers it’s way towards me and it whispers something to my ear... It’s voice has a slight gurgle. I can barely hear it... but I know... and I want everyone to know... that no matter how much we try... under the surface... we’ll always be filthy.

THE END.

This is an illustration and the story of a horror storybook I'm planning to make.
Made in Corel Draw X5. Story by me. Thanks for reading. I did write a page to go with the image... but I can't find any format (Digital art, Literature, etc.) that includes storybook.