Short story competition- Scrabble

For the short story competition, I chose the Scrabble theme, and turned it into a horror story. My general idea made me think of these short movies we can see late at night on TV, supposed to frighten us but terribly cliché, and I decided to play with it. I chose very common American names, and decided to write my story in a cheesy, American urban legend style.

Scrabble.

«S-T-R-A-N-G-E-R. Stranger. Gives me 14 points. So, how’s Sarah?»
«D-R-I-F-T. Drift, 9 points. I don’t know, why should I? I haven’t seen her in ages.»
«Oh really? It’s strange though, I think I saw you with her yesterday!»
Mark was tired of these incessant quarrels. And yet, he felt he was down for another one.
«Well, you must have imagined things, honey, I haven’t seen her in months... I broke up with her for a reason, I wouldn’t see the point of hanging out with her now!»
«Oh I’m imagining things now, aren’t I? Well you know what, just imagine I’m tired of your lies, I’m tired of you! I’m out of here!».
Karen stormed out and slammed the door after her. Mark stood still for a few seconds, trying to decide what to do, and finally ran after her. But, by the time he reached the door, Karen was gone. No trace of her in the path, or in the street. He tried calling her name, but a barking dog was the only answer he got. «Ah well, she’ll come to her senses after a good night of sleep... I hope». Looking back, he saw that all the letters on the Scrabble board had moved, probably when Karen had got up in fury. But, looking closer... He saw that the letters were actually forming words. He bypassed the coffee table to see better. What he saw made his hair stand on end. «She is not coming back» he could read.
«What the... Karen? Karen is that you? Come on babe, it was funny, ha-ha, come out now.» There was no sign of a living soul in the house to respond to him. He checked the two bedrooms and the downstairs bathroom. No one. His parents were away for the week-end and Jamie, his little brother, was with them. He was alone in the house... No, no, it had to be Karen, that was it.
He came back to the living-room, and slowly walked to the table. The words had changed again. «She is gone».
«Karen, is this your way of breaking up with me? It’s really childish, and I-» he suddenly stopped, realizing something. He had stayed in the hallway while checking the house, and the living-room and kitchen were in an open space. If someone had had been in the living-room, he would have inevitably seen them. But the fact was, he had not seen anyone. «What the hell is going on here?» he whispered. «Where’s Karen? What does it mean, she’s gone?». He could not take his eyes off of the board game, waiting for an answer. Two long minutes went by, and nothing happened. Mark was beginning to feel really tired, and rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands. No more than ten seconds... When he opened them again, the letters were all over the table, as if nothing had happened.
«Well, you must be really tired my man... let’s go for a cup of coffee.» He went to the kitchen. While waiting, he looked outside. The night was pretty dark, even though it was only half past seven. «I hate winter...» he thought gloomily. A little squeaking noise made him look up. It came for the table... He couldn’t see the Scrabble board, which was hidden by the couch, but he was too petrified to move forward. After the sound ended, he waited a moment before moving. The letters had been displaced once more. «A closed door will never open again». Mark could feel his body was shivering, but could not stop it in any way. There were blood stains on the pieces. And he might have not been the cleverest boy at the North Dakota High School that year, but he didn’t have to think really long to know who this blood belonged to. «Karen...». A frightening shriek answered to his whisper. He dropped his cup of coffee on the carpet, and his heart stopped beating for a few seconds. It came from the basement. «Karen!» He grabbed a flashlight and got closer to the door. The doorknob was freezing. «Cold as death...» he thought, and slowly, silently opened the door. It was pitch-black in the staricase, and by instinct, Mark knew he didn’t need to try and turn on the light; it wouldn’t work. «It’s a nightmare, just a nightmare, it’s ok, I’ll be fine...» He whispered while undertaking the descent in the dark.
Mark Harris and Karen Collins were never to be seen again.