I've been having problems lately. Actually, it seems like
forever. Ever since I was eight years old. I've lived in the
same house for a very long time. Yes, my mother was never
really good about raising me, so my grandmother did it. But
this house, my family line, and what we're known for -- it
The house I live in use to be a nursing home back in the
late 1800's to the mid 1900's. People have died here. And
now it's coming back to me. Like it was my fault they died.
I wake up in the middle of the night with bruises and hand
prints. Not just because of the spirits that roam this
house, but also the spirits and the demon that roam my dream
world. On my eighth birthday that, yes, I spent with my
grandmother, was fairly harsh. I had this dream about a man.
I could never see his face, yet he was gentle.
His eyes, so calm. Green, almost jade. And they never left
my sight. I can remember his words. His icy cold fingers.
And his laugh. I was very sick the next morning. And he
continuously came back until I was eleven. Then it all
started again on my thirteenth birthday. And that's also
when spirits began talking to me, and being more abusive.
On my fourteenth birthday, I woke up with the most ominous
bruise and tons of claw marks from an unknown source. And
going to school was unbearable. The shrinks asked if my
grandmother abused me. And I could only laugh in their
faces. Then everything got worse.
When I was ten or so, my best friend Cenna and I were stupid
enough to go to a cemetery with a Ouija board. And we ran
out screaming, leaving the Ouija board sitting there. The
reason why we ran out of the grave yard screaming is because
someone was chasing us out. We could hear it's roaring, and
panting. A demon -- which is what the priest had told us.
A week or so later, Cenna was placed in an institution. I
never heard from her again until my thirteenth birthday. The
same day I woke up with a horrible sickness. She called the
exact moment I had awoken. Her voice was cold and angry. She
told me that the same demon that institutionalized her was in
my house, watching me. My every move, my every step. He even
listened to my breathing. And that is also the reason I had
She told me she was in Maryland. And her mother ran into the
room, ripping the phone from her hands and began yelling at
me. "You did this to her! You did this to my Cenna! How
could you!?" And she hung up on me.
I stared at the wall for hours upon hours that day, wishing
everything would just stop. Regretting every little mistake
I had made two years ago.
And now, Cenna is dead. She called me... just three weeks
ago. Telling me to be careful. To stay away from Hummel Park
and the grave yard we went to. To watch my back, to never
leave my house without the rosary I had gotten from my
friend. I have no idea how she knew about the cross, but I
didn't want to know. She told me to be cautious. And never
to step inside Hummel Park again.
And now -- the demon we saw and heard... the spirits of the
murdered children of Hummel Park, and Cenna herself, have
been haunting me. Beating me in my sleep. Some times, I stay
awake for a week at a time. Going to school, trying not to
sleep in class.
Two weeks after Cenna's phone call, I knew she was dead.
Something told me. I had no idea where she called me from.
All I know is that it was a pay phone. She had never used
pay phones. She was running from someone or something.
I woke up with her hand print on my stomach that morning.
And bite marks everywhere. Claw marks that claimed the flesh
on my back as it's own.
And as for Cenna's warning -- I will not listen. I will
simply see why she wants me to stay away from those places
of eerie history.
Contact me here: firstname.lastname@example.org