Dear new companion,
When I was 14 years old I had to move from our rented apartment in the city into a new house along the valley, this was around the time were I started high school. I was young and naive so of course the move was exciting, a new home for my new chapter in my life.
There were things we should have questioned about the house. First of all, the rest of the neighbourhood in Mosstown (where the house is located) had history dating back to the 19th century, our home to be was not. It was built only 10 years before we moved in which may not seem odd in the modern day but the house was on the country side in a conservative town that was so notoriously anti-modernisation that the grocery stores kept fresh fruit in barrels and canned food, wine, and bread were all shoved together on the shelves above the counter. The house itself was a yellow iris colour and 2 floors. Despite being new, the house was slim, shaky. Cracks completely covered the sides of the house and the house only had two windows. One tiny slim one in the kitchen, facing out across the street and another in my bedroom, facing our neighbours. My parents had no problem giving my this room as it was significantly smaller then the other bedrooms and as the youngest of 3 siblings, it only made sense. Looking back, all of these could have been as signs. Purpose God or the universe was warning me, warning us to stay away, to not disturb the peace. To pick another house.
Due to our last home being rented, we were unable to keep any of our old furniture, which at first caused some panic amongst my parents but after discussions with the house’s owner/seller, we learned that we could keep the new house’s decor and move things around if we wished on one condition. The condition being that we could not move the wardrobe out of my room. My parents, of course did not protest. After all they cut quite a good deal on the house already and so they wanted to respect the owner’s wishes as best as they could. The wardrobe a dark brownish colour, tall and square. It faced my window and was diagonal to my bed. Of course, as a teen girl who leaned towards modern, trendy, bright coloured clothes and furniture I was bummed. I dreamed my room would have dangling lights, posters ave my favourite bands covering my walls, and bean bags in every corner and this big, creepy, towering closet could ruin it all but in the end I respected the old man and my parents’ wishes and kept the dusty thing.
Not soon after being, we began moving in. I only had clothes from my last house which was quite convenient given the only piece of furnishing other then my bed was the closet. The moving company dropped all the furniture in the morning. I immediately grabbed the 3 boxes of clothes I had and one by one I started moving them up. As soon as I got up, I took a pair of scissors from my school bag and cut the tap off of the boxes. I had everything open so the next thing I had to do was open my closet but I could tell as I approached it, something was wrong. The closer I got, the shakier I got. I could feel my heart drop but I though to myself, I was just being silly. It’s just an old stupid closet and I had no real reason to be afraid. So I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and forced my hand to ripped the closet open. *creak*
Just as I reassured myself, nothing was wrong. Other than the doors being a bit creaky, nothing was actually wrong with the closet. I sighed in relief but just before I turned to grab a shirt when something caught my eye. A small, folded piece of paper on the bottom shelf. I bent down, picked it up, and unwrinkled it. The note read:
“Dear new companion, May 14th, 1822
To break free, he needs the number three
To avoid a terrible fate, listen and concentrate
No time, no task, no amount can repeat, each time you break this rule his figure will become more concrete
Avoid the porcelain man
Best of luck,
The former owner”
I pocketed the letter. Of course, I normally do not believe in any sort of paranormal experience or myth but that feeling of dread was something I could not shake. Besides, a letter from the 19th century in a house built only 10 years ago? Something was off. I then unpacked my clothes and laid down on my bed. The rest of the day went by fairly normally. It was only until the night that weirder things began to happen. I was reading for a few hours and at around 11:02 I got tired so I put my book down, turned off my flashlight, and plugged in my phone. I didn’t realise that by the time I had put and turned off everything. The time had changed to 11:03 but that didn’t seem to matter as soon after I drifted off to sleep.
At 3:33, I was woken up to a loud *creak.* I jumped up, grabbing my phone from the floor and turning on the flashlight, I looked around and thats when I saw it. Something sticking out of the closet. A hand. The hand was wrapping around the closet door, the finger nails like utility knives, wrinkles were like shattered china, and skin like shiny porcelain. I was petrified. Whatever that was in my closet was not human. I spent the next minutes watching the fingers twirl around the door just daring me to come closer, as it peaked out its bloodshot eyes from the top of the door as its devilish grin smeared across its face like piano tiles.. Only a few minutes after that the worst thing that could have possibly happened, happened. My phone flickered and everything went black. After what felt like forever, the flashlight flickered back on and whatever was in my closet was gone. It was 4:00 am. Too hysterical to sleep again in the room any longer, I took my blanket and pillow and dashed down stairs to the living room. I then forced my eyes shut and quickly drifted to sleep.
As the weeks went by, my curiosity grew and my back began hurting from sleeping on the couch. What was in my closet? Why is the number 3 taboo? I started doing some research, just googling anything I knew about the house but to no avail. Eventually, I decided to google “Mosstown closet.” The first thing that popped up was a photo of my closet with the heading “Mosstown triad killer still at large.” I clicked on the article. It was from some sort of paranormal investigation research website. The contents of the article went something like this.
“After first appearing in 1800s, the triad killer seems to be continuously visited the 3rd house on Amitlee road. Families in the house report their children sleeping in a room with a closet and complaining about a doll like man looming out, taunting them. The reports of distress from the kids would get incredibly bad leading up to the 3rd of each month. Eventually, on the 3rd day of the 3rd month of each family living there, the parents would be woken up to awful shrieks coming from the top floor. Reports detail the kids having multiple injuries such as 3 stab wounds, 3 fingernails being torn off, 3 teeth being pulled out, 3 glass shards in each eye, 3 toes cut off, 3 papercuts between each finger, and 3 splinters in the palm of each hand. Soon after this would happen, the families would move away and see the house to the next unsuspecting family. In 2001 the house as knocked down and in 2010, a new house was built in its place. The Smiths, the first family to move into the new house, reported that a closet mysteriously showed up in the house on the 3rd of the next month. Police opened an investigation but found nothing wrong and advised the family to move it. The Smiths then claimed that the closet was haunted or under some sort of possession from a demon. Every time they threw the closet out, it came back and the alleged porcelain man got closer and closer until the Smith’s daughter was its next victim. In 2020, the house was sold to a new family. Let’s hope this dangerous pattern does not continue for the sake of their daughter…..”
So whatever is in my closet is not human and had some sort of murderous streak. At first I was scared but then I became quite pissed off. If the previous owner knew about the closet, why would he sell it to a family? Why not make it a storage room? Why not demolish it for good? All of these things, I am still unsure of. It has been 10 years since this day and now my parents are finally ready to sell the house, which is why I write this letter to you. Whatever you do, never do anything when the time has the number 3 on it, never do anything 3 times, never have 3 things or 3 types of things, on the 3rd, 13th, 23rd, 30th, or on the 3rd month, sleep on the couch. Whatever you do, avoid the porcelain man. He is real and he is not kind.
Best of luck,
The former owner