My family was never particularly religious. Sure, we had a few rituals here and there but nothing too overbearing. Except when it came to her. Perhaps a small-town mystery or a scary story to keep kids in line come bedtime, the girl with the skipping rope had been a part of our hometown lore for over fifty years.
The rules were simple. After the sun went down, we were not to open the door if we heard a girl skipping rope outside. She would pretend to be lost and ask for her parents but under no circumstances were we to help her. If we ignored her cries for help long enough, she would leave us alone. If you grow up with something, you come to accept it as gospel truth, no matter how implausible it may be. To me, she was nothing more than Santa’s evil cousin who would visit us every couple of years.
I was around twelve when I had my first encounter with her. Almost at the cusp of my teenage years, I had decided to subvert my parents’ authority and watch late night TV. I had heard from extremely reliable sources at school that they would play reruns of all my favorite shows at 12 A.M. Besides, it was a Friday night, and I didn’t have to get up early.
My parents had tucked me in and were out in the kitchen wrapping up dinner. I waited patiently, staring at the light at the threshold of my door. The dishwasher started running and soon enough the lights turned off. Tip-toeing my way across the living room, I made myself comfortable in front of the TV. I had to increase the volume just enough to not arouse suspicion.
It was around 2 A.M. when I heard it.
Clank
I froze. I thought I had been busted, dad must have opened his door and found me.
Clank
I turned around but he wasn’t there.
Clank
Soon enough, I heard hushed knocks on the door. I knew enough not to open it; mom had drilled that into me. Yet something about the sound drew me to it. I just had to see her. I struggled but eventually decided to look out the window to see who this girl was.
I was pulling the curtains when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I was about to scream but a hand was on my mouth.
“What the hell are you doing? Shut up and don’t move.”
It was my dad. He had heard the TV and spotted me next to the door. He slowly pulled me back and carried me to my room, but not before I was able to see her. I couldn’t make out much; her black hair was covering her face and her eyes were pointed at the ground. She was dressed in white but was covered completely in mud and dirt. She just stood there with her rope, waiting at the door.
“What is wrong with you Erin? Have you lost your damn mind? Stay here. Let me get your mother.”
I knew I had messed up. Mom was going to kill me.
She came in and started frantically pacing around the room.
“She didn’t open the door, I caught her in time,” my dad said.
“No, you don’t understand. Being near her is enough of a curse. We are fucked.”
That was one of the few times I heard mom curse. After what felt like an hour of yelling, I was told to go into my room—I was grounded for a week. In that week, Father Brown stopped by to bless the house. Mom and dad became extremely reserved around me; you’d think I shot the family dog.
Over the course of the next month, there were rumors that she was visiting the town again. Behaviors radically changed. What was once a bustling community was now at a standstill. Lights would be out by 9 P.M. Kids were not allowed to stay out after dark. Church was packed every Saturday.
All of this seemed performative to me until Mark disappeared. Mark had been one of my closest friends at school and I had told him about my encounter multiple times. I knew he wasn’t stupid enough to open the door. The police treated it as a missing case, but we all knew what had happened. I was an inconsolable mess for the rest of the year. Needless to say, I didn’t ever stay up late again.
Mark wasn’t the only one, however, next it was Mr. Paul who lived by the river. Then Ms. Wu, who ran our town bakery. Finally, a little girl named Julia disappeared from her mom’s house.
The police didn’t know what to make of this. There were no clues to any of the disappearances. The doors were opened voluntarily—there were no signs of forced entry. The victims had seemed normal until their disappearance. No leads were ever found. Everyone stayed extremely vigilant; parents would sleep with their kids with a shotgun next to the bed.
Over the next year or two, the fear died down. No one really spoke about the disappearances or the girl, although it was always a lingering thought for most people in town. A good amount of people moved, and the state dedicated more resources and personnel to our city. With the Band-Aid of time, things got better.
Four years later, they found Ms. Wu’s body in the forest. From what they could make of the corpse, she had been choked to death with a metal object. Her face was brutally caved in, and her skull had significant blunt force trauma. By this point, however, she was nothing more than a footprint in the newspaper.
Eventually, I moved to the city. The girl with the skipping rope would pop up in my nightmares here and there, but besides that I never paid much attention to her. Life was busy and I wanted to move on from my small town.
I turned forty last year. Now with a daughter of my own, I realize that my parents did their best to protect me my whole life. Perhaps it was this thought that led to the events of last night.
“Mom! Someone is at the door!” My daughter startled me awake. It was 8 P.M. and it looked like I had fallen asleep on the couch. I got up to investigate.
Clank
Clank
Clank
My blood ran cold, and it felt like my legs were giving out. I picked up my daughter and locked her in her room. Twenty-nine years. Twenty-nine years had gone by. I didn’t believe this was happening. I was probably in one of my nightmares.
Clank
Clank
Clank
I didn’t know what to do. Suddenly, I was the scared child caught watching TV in the living room. The same force that compelled me to let her in all those years ago came back much stronger. I was able to gather myself and turned around to go to the room. From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of her from the window. The same dirty white clothes, the same black hair, except this time she was staring right at me, her eyes piercing through my soul. She smiled at me and beckoned me to let her in. I decided to run, but before I knew it, I was in the forest being pulled by my neck. A thousand little knives being dragged across my back.
The legends got one thing wrong. The sound was not her skipping rope—she had always been holding a long metal chain.
And now she was going to kill me with it. I struggled and tried to break free from the noose around my neck. I heard her laughing at my efforts.
“Please. Please let me go. I have a daughter,” I struggled to get the words out.
Fueled by adrenaline, I pulled the chain forward to where I could catch my breath. I snuck out from under that chain and ran. I ran as fast as I could across the forest, but I could hear her following me. Someone spotted me by the highway and called the police.
At the hospital, I tried explaining the girl with the chain who had tried to kill me. Yet, no one would believe me. Temporary psychosis, I believe they called it. The doctors theorized that I had tried to harm myself and I was committed for seven days.
My daughter has since been staying with my mom and I can breathe a sigh of relief, because I know the girl will be waiting for me when I get out.