I grew up in the country you could call it. I lived 15 minutes from a small city. My house was a very ancient house. My father had notes and old pictures from the people who have passed through our house. These consisting of two suicide notes and random letters. He always kept these things low key with me and my brother, who is three years older than me, growing up.
I lived in an interesting place. There were two houses behind me where my best friends lived and someone next door who we were very close to. They were my family and long time friends until this day and what we’ve been through amounts to so much from what we’ve witnessed. We used to sleep over at each other’s houses all the time, even on school nights because everyone had the same bus stop. The major hang out place was my house because it was the biggest out of all of them.
We have an eerie basement. We used to snoop around a lot and we stumbled upon an envelope marked “House Stuff” in my father’s handwriting. Naturally curious we opened it and pulled out the documents and photos. I was eight, my other friend was three years older, one was six months older, one was the same age, and one was a year younger than me. I held it and started reading the first note out loud to everyone hovering around me. I will never forget what the note said: “Dear mommy and daddy I’m sorry I cause you two to fight so much and I’m going to rid you of my burden. Just please stop hitting mommy daddy.”
My heart sank so much I felt like it didn’t exist anymore. The handwriting looked sloppy as if it was a young kid’s. All of our mouths dropped and we started looking at each other. I sighed and put it down and picked up another letter. This writing was easier to make out and neater: “To anyone who reads this I killed them. I killed all of them. no longer alive. no longer a burden. it told me to. I’m not insane I promise. it told me I had to or I would die and they would all go to hell.”
I screamed and I dropped it refusing to read anymore of that. I started crying I no longer wanted to live there. My friends consoled me and tried to calm me down by saying how do we know any of this is true? Isn’t it weird that crucial evidence in any kind of murder scene would be left here? Than again before any sort of revolution occurred it was the back country, middle of no where.
I asked for all of them to sleep over that night for the sake I was frightened to be there alone. There’s three bedrooms upstairs, mine, my brothers, and a back room that’s made for a young child. Well of course my mind clicked that the kid’s room was where they had killed themselves. I couldn’t sleep. Everyone passed out but the oldest of the group and her and I were up playing a card game talking.
I was starting to ease a bit until I looked over her shoulder into the mirror and in the shadows was a pale face. I instantly screamed and told her to look around. When she did nothing was there anymore and she shrugged, until the door flew open. I always shut and lock my door. We thought maybe someone from downstairs was joking with us so we slowly walked out into the hallway.
Something felt strange. A depressing, sad, pressure came over me where I felt straight exhausted suddenly. My friend felt the same thing. There also seemed like something else was in the hallway with us and it was extremely humid but I had goosebumps everywhere. My breathing started getting heavy and I couldn’t catch my breath suddenly and I leaned up against a wall. Complaining to my friend I felt sick and just give me a second because I thought I could be having a headrush. I looked around me and noticed the back room door was opened and was hanging back and forth.
That’s the instant I fell to the ground. Laying there in the middle of the hallway everything physical felt very close but there was a humming noise and I couldn’t hear anything. I felt a great pressure on my chest like something was trying to break my chest plate. Everything around me was gone and all I could see was into the back bedroom and the walkway in the hallway I was laying under. As the door swung back slowly I saw something I will never forget. A small boy dangling from a noose from the ceiling. It was a tiny room but this kid wasn’t very big. There was a mirror behind me and while his body slowly turned I saw his reflection. His reflection smiled at me and held out his hand as if I were to go to him and grab it. I tried screaming, I tried running, but nothing happened. Everything hurt and felt suffocated and restrained. I blinked and the boy was right in my face. I then realized I was no longer in my own body but he was merging with me.
After he collided with me I woke up to my friend violently shaking me screaming and crying. She said I was hardly breathing and not responsive to anything and my heart rate got terribly low. All my friends were still down stairs and we decided not to mention it, they wouldn’t believe me. Still from that day I feel paranoid and anxious in my house. I don’t feel safe one bit. I sometimes have horrible nightmares of me dying, my friends dying. For some reason if I stay upstairs in my room too long which is next door to the back bedroom I get horribly depressed. I have outbursts where I cant control what I say or do and I end up having to apologize to my family. Every time there’s shadows in my house I feel like something is watching me, I must turn on the light no matter where I go for I fear if they’re off too long it will happen again for I get the same weird feeling and pressure on my back. My friend who witnessed this is still my best friend to this day even while she’s in college and every now and then I will tell her about some weird thing happening. I feel I will forever be cursed and never the same again.
Sent in by Kc Felicjan, Copyright 2008