First of all, a little background information on my house. It's not very old, only about nine or ten years old, but I think the land it was built on has a very exciting history. It looks completely normal, it could even be called pretty, on the outside, just like all the other abodes on my block. It's larger than the average house and has a neat lawn. But no one in my neighborhood wants to go anywhere near my house. Even my friends are scared of it! You'll find out why a little later on. But I digress.
My twin sister, Annabelle, and me didn't share a room together just because we didn't want to. Upstairs there are five main rooms: two master bedrooms, one normal sized bedroom, one washroom, and one very small bedroom. The last room is small enough to be called a big closet. Anyway, my parents toke one master bedroom, my grandmother who lived with us toke the other, and the only two rooms left were the normal sized one and the tiny two-by-four closet. We settled who would get the normal room in the simplest way we could. Rock, Paper, Scissors. Guess who lost? Me.
One more thing before I continue. Annabelle has a small collection of old porcelain dolls. I've never liked them and just recently she's becoming not too fond of them either, so she keeps them under her bed. This will be important later.
My room's door is right in front of the stairs, so if you were to walk up them and keep walking straight forward, you'd be in my room within 16 footsteps (including the stairs) you'd be inside my room. If you were to stand at the top of my stairs, my door would be directly in front of you, to your left would be the master bedroom where my parents slept, and to your right would be the bathroom, my sister's bedroom, and then directly in front of her bedroom, my grandmother's. In that order. Are you following so far? Ok, moving on.
When my family and I first went to look at the house, I didn't like it. It had a cold, disturbing feeling to it like something very wrong had happened there and the event somehow seeped into the walls, you know what I mean? Anyway, we were touring around the house (my parents had already purchased it by then), and Annabelle's complexion started turning very doughy and she complained about an upset stomach. Minutes later, she started vomiting uncontrollably and my mother had to take her to the doctor.
When Annabelle and my mother came home the next morning from a stay in the hospital, Annabelle looked fine and my mother said the doctor couldn't find anything wrong with her and just brushed it off as a 24-hour flu. I asked Annabelle how she was feeling and she said she was ok, which puzzled me. I still remember how much she cried because she "couldn't stand the pain". It was frightening.
Three months later, I made friends with my next door neighbor, Rhonda. She came over to my house one Summer afternoon, and we went up to my room. After getting bored of talking, I decided to take out my Ouija board that I had gotten for Christmas along with my new kitten, Misty. Rhonda adored Misty. This'll be kind of important later on. "You wanna try it out?" I asked her as I settled on the little floor space between my desk and my bed. "Uh," Rhonda had an uncomfortable look on her face. "S- sure, why not?" She sounded hesitant but sat down anyway and we tried asking the board a few questions. It twitched here and there but otherwise, nothing too significant happened.
Rhonda stood up after we asked our hundredth question. "Something doesn't feel right about your house, Psyche," She murmured. I stood up too. "What do you mean?" I asked, confused. She visited regularly and never complained. She visibly shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. "I have a feeling something bad happened here? or is happening? or will happen? I dunno," She paused and watched Misty intently as she sauntered into the room. "Your cat. She gives me the creeps, I think she's possessed by a demon. Can I go home now?" I laughed, not knowing how to feel. Amused? Frightened? Offended? "Ok sure, let's go to your house." I shrugged. The next month, July, the huge blackout occurred, the one that affected Ontario, Quebec and parts of New York. I found it thoroughly entertaining and even got permission to stay awake past 2 AM to star gaze with my father and Annabelle in the backyard. It was the best time I had ever had, except when the night came.
I was woken around 3 AM for no absolute reason. I thought to myself, 'well this is stupid!' and rolled over on my side to face the wall and try to go back to sleep. I shifted onto my back because I suddenly had the unsettling feeling that someone was watching me. My eyes were about to close when someone whispered clearly into my ear, 'Psyche!' My eyes shot open and I grabbed my flashlight, flicked it on and ran into my sister's room without looking back. I was scared out of my wits.
I didn't want to wake Annabelle, but I didn't want to have to cross the hall lest whatever whispered my name was still waiting for me out there. Mustering up what little courage I had in me, I sprinted across the corridor and burst into my grandmother's room, dashing under the covers like mad. Strangely, this didn't affect her and she continued sleeping peacefully.
I curled up next to her, my flashlight still glowing brightly. Out of no where, I saw the shadow of a male manifest itself on the wall. I shut my eyes tightly and covered my head with my hands. The flashlight turned off and I suddenly fell into a deep slumber.
The next morning, my grandmother said that she could not recall any of the events that I so vividly described. For some odd reason, this scared me more then anything.
A few nights later I had a rather disturbing nightmare. I was walking into my bathroom when all of a sudden I bumped into my grandmother. Her back was turned to me so I tapped her shoulder and politely asked her to leave so that I could use the washroom. She started shaking menacingly and I noticed that in her hands were a fork and knife. She turned around, screeching like a banshee or some inhuman being, and that's when I saw her eyes. They were completely white and glowing brightly. That was when I awoke. I've never told anyone except Annabelle about my dream. Annabelle also confided in me with one of her secrets. We were both in her room, I was on her computer and she was doing her homework when she turned to me and asked me if I thought our house had "bad vibes".
A flood of relief came from knowing that I wasn't the only one who was feeling out of place. "Yes!" I answered. "Why?" "Well," She began. "You know those porcelain dolls that I keep under my bed?" I nodded. "Well, I think they're?" She started laughing. "What?" I asked, looking at her like she had sprouted a horn in the middle of her head. "Possessed. Ok there I said it," She lifted her hands, almost as if expected a harsh blow from me. "Po? sessed?" I repeated the word. "What makes you say that?" "Every night, I can hear something pounding on my bed. It scares the (uh, crap) outta me," She reached under her bed and pulled out one doll with big green eyes and braided coffee brown hair. The doll looked very innocent and was clad in an off-white wedding dress with gold frills and pearls sewed into the collar. "Look, she's missing a part of her cheek," Annabelle tapped the doll's ivory face, then pulled out another doll, this one with long flowing blonde hair and an azure gown, the kind that a woman of high society would wear in the early to mid 1800's. The doll looked almost identical to Annabelle and me, and she scared me most out of all of them. "And she's missing a hand." Annabelle held up a delicate arm, clearly showing that the hand was cut off from the wrist down. "Weirdest off all," She said as she placed the dolls back under the bed. "Is that I can't find any of the pieces, even the big ones. I think the dolls are pounding on my bed!" I stared at in her in disbelief. I knew I couldn't tell my parents. They were extremely rational people and had explanations for everything. Besides, if Annabelle and me came to them with this story, they'd send us straight off to the insane asylum, without a doubt. So her and me made a pact of sorts to keep quiet no matter how bad things get.
Not long after school started, I heard some bizarre news about my house from a new friend, Fawn. "Where do you live?" She asked me while we were having lunch together. I told her my address and she nearly choked on her food. "You live THERE?!" Fawn looked dismayed. "Yeah, is there something wrong with that?" I cocked a brow. "Uh, YES there is something wrong with that!" She shouted. "You live in a crack house!" "A what?!" I gasped, taken aback by this little bit of info. "A crack house! You know, where they sell drugs?" She acted like it was obvious. "The police were always there before you moved in. The weeds in the backyard were so tall you could see them popping out from over the fence posts. No one wanted to even be near that place. I think someone was murdered in the bathtub or something." "Are you? serious?" I practically spat the words, still shocked. I knew my house was scary but not that scary! "Ya," She nodded, then went back to her food. As soon as I got home that afternoon, I told Annabelle but she swore not to tell anyone unless I gave her the okay. "Hey, uh, mom?" I said as I grabbed an apple off the table. "Yes?" She put down the book she was reading. "Is our house a drug house?" I couldn't help myself. I just blurted it out. 'Ok, not how I wanted that to sound,' I thought to myself. My mom stared at me for a good three minutes before answering, albeit haltingly, "Yes, baby. It was," And she went back to her book.
Somehow I felt she wasn't telling me everything, but I decided to leave it alone. When I toke a close look at the bathtub, there were indeed some red stains on the tub and the walls around it. I don't use that shower anymore. Recently I've been having dreams about a young girl named Elizabeth dying in my study. It's always the same. My grandmother and me are reading in the study. The room looks normal except for the fact that there's another room within the room, understand? The room is painted yellow and the door was bricked over. That's the room Elizabeth died in. Suddenly, in the dream, I look up at my Grandmother and say, "Elizabeth isn't real. You made her up!" "She's real, don't go looking for her," She warns me, but I disregard her and start poking at the yellow bricks that keep the door closed. One brick collapses, and I look inside the room.
It's very dark, with only one source of light: A turquoise stained glass window that's shining a pillar of light onto a strange table. "See, I knew she wasn't real!" I yell triumphantly. All of a sudden, my cat, Misty, starts getting pulled into the room. I start crying and screaming but whatever it is just won't let her go. That's when I wake up. I think that's all that there is to say. Oh yeah, and I asked my dad if anyone died in my house a while ago. He asked, 'why?' and I told him that I was having strange dreams about it. He just said, 'so, I've been having dreams about flying.' And he walked away. I don't really know what kind of answer that is.
Ok, that's really all. Thanks for reading.
One more thing. Just a few minutes ago, I heard something very heavy fall down' the stairs and I thought it was my sister. When I went to check, I realized everyone except for my grandmother is out, and my grandmother's asleep.