Leather Sofa

The Leather Sofa is a creepy story about a young man who has bad memories about a piece of furniture that was in his house when he was a child.

When I was young, I remember there was an old leather sofa in our house. It was worn and tattered and stood in the corner of the living room. My parents had found it at a garage sale and bought it for next to nothing.

One day, when I was about five years old, I was playing in the living room by myself. I happened to look up and noticed something very strange. There was a crumpled paper bag sitting on the floor in front of the leather sofa. I wondered what was inside, so I got up and walked over to investigate. The paper bag had a very distinctive logo printed on it.

Just as I was about to pick the bag up, I realized that a gnarled and withered hand was reaching out from under the sofa and holding out the paper bag.I suddenly stopped in my tracks and a chill ran down my spine. I was terrified.

As I watched, the hand slowly retracted and disappeared back under the sofa, bag and all. I ran out of the living room and found my mother washing dishes in the kitchen. Shaking with fear, I tried to tell her what I had seen, but she didn’t believe me. She laughed and said i must have been imagining things.

After that, I tried to stay as far away from the leather sofa as possible. I avoided the living room at all costs. One morning, I woke up to find the leather sofa gone. There was a new couch standing in its place. I breathed a sigh of relief and, as time went on, I forgot all about it.

A few years ago, I was talking to my mother about my memories from childhood and I suddenly remembered the old leather sofa.

“whatever happened to it?” I asked.

“Oh, don’t talk to me about that horrid thing,” cried my mom. “We threw it out.”

“Why?” I asked. “Just because I was scared of it?”

“Well… I never told you this at the time,” she said with a shudder. “You were very young and I didn’t want to frighten you. One morning, you didn’t want to go to school and, while I was getting you ready, you ran off and hid from me. I went through the whole house searching for you and eventually, I came to the living room. Just as I was about to open the door, I thought I heard you giggling to yourself. I burst in the room and, out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of what I thought was your shoe, disappearing underneath the leather couch. I got down on my hands and knees and cried, “Found you!” I almost had a heart attack. It wasn’t you. As long as I live, I will never forget that sight.”

“What was it?” I asked.

“It was an old woman with a black shawl on her head and grey, wrinkled skin. Her face was twisted into a grotesque grimace and she was giggling like a child. She was holding a necklace or a bracelet in her hand. I wanted to run, but I was frozen to the spot by fear. She stared directly at me with her cold, dead eyes. No soul at all. I screamed and ran up the stairs. You were standing in the kitchen, so I grabbed you and dashed out of the house as fast as I could. I called your father and he had to come home from work. I tried to tell him what had happened, but he wouldn’t believe me. I refused to go back into the house until he got rid of that horrible old leather sofa.”

I was speechless.

“A few weeks after that, I was picking you up from school,” my mother continued. “We drove past the house where I had found the sofa at the garage sale. I stopped the car and decided to find out more about it. The lady who lived there told me that all the furniture had come with the house when she bought it. She explained that the house had previously belonged to an old woman who lived alone. She didn’t have any family, so when she died, her body wasn’t discovered for weeks. When they finally found her rotting corpse, it was lying on the sofa. The same old leather sofa we bought at the garage sale. Even now, it freaks me out just to think about it.”

My mother’s story brought back all my old memories from childhood, about the leather sofa and the gnarled and withered hand I had seen clutching the paper bag. Just the other day, I was in town doing some grocery shopping. In one store, I was browsing through the aisles when I saw something that looked familiar. On one shelf, there was a small paper bag that had the exact same logo I remembered.

My hands were shaking as I picked it up and looked inside.

It was a bag of razor blades.