It’s been a few days since my last post. I’d have laughed if you’d asked me a week ago if things could get worse. Now, I’m not so sure.
| I thought I would just comment in the original post, letting you know that all ended well, but things did not turn out that way. Here is a link to the first part if you are new here and want to get caught up: Video | Text |
Following your suggestions, we fortified the house. We waited for our parents to leave, watching from the window. As soon as the car was out of sight, we each took a container of salt and traced every possible entrance. My little brother, Martin, went off to get all the bedroom windows, and I went with Lucy to ward off the rest of the house.
We also bought an extra flashlight, and I gave my brother the one we got from Dad’s toolbox. We also made sure to put candles in each room, and everyone had their own lighter.
I also sent myself the links to a few religious videos where people read aloud from their respective holy texts. As I said, I am not religious, but if there is evil like this, there must be something good.
We thought we were prepared. We weren’t.
The night started off quietly enough. We settled down in the living room to wait the night out. For the first hour, we just sat there. Listening. Occasionally, we would hear a noise outside. We could brush it off as everyday things if it was any other house or night.
“I’m bored,” my little sister said after a while.
“Would you rather be bored or dead?” Martin asked her.
Lucy’s face went somber, and I could tell she was about to cry.
“Hey! Don’t say that,” I scolded my brother as I went to sit beside Lucy. She quickly fell into me, pouting.
“What?” he asked, rolling his eyes at me before looking back out the window.
“Alright,” I said, “Come on guys. Let’s do something.”
“The people on reddit said we should not play any games,” Martin said.
“Yeah, I meant let’s watch a movie or something. We are going to drive ourselves crazy just sitting here.”
“I’m hungry,” my little sister said.
I stood up, pulling her up with me. “How about popcorn, and we can watch something on your tablet,” I asked her.
She smiled, nodded, and pulled me into the kitchen. I turned back to ask Martin if he wanted anything, but he was already two steps behind us. I smiled but did not say anything. He tried to not seem scared. I guess it was a man-of-the-house thing, but he was still just a little kid.
We went back to the living room and set up a blanket near the wall, so Martin and I could be on our phones. Charging, of course, and Lucy watched a movie on her tablet.
It was around eleven o’clock when Lucy said, “I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Seriously?” Martin said with the most exasperated look I had ever seen.
“Relax,” I said, “I kinda do too.”
“Oh my god,” my brother said, letting out a sigh and using his head to roll his eyes at both of his sisters, “ We are going to die.”
“Oh, shut up,” I said, smiling at his overreaction.
“Yeah, shut up, Martin,” Lucy said in a way only a seven-year-old could.
“Lucy!” I said, “Don’t say that!”
She turned back to me with a look of betrayal, “But you said it,” she said.
“Fine,” Martin interrupted, “Let’s all go together.”
“Eww,” Lucy said.
“I mean, let’s stay together, I don’t want to see you pooping,” he said.
“I don’t have to poop!” Lucy shot back.
I had already gotten up. “Come on, you two,” I said, knowing how the conversation would go between the two if I let it. Poopy head, poopstar, the biggest poop wizard, you know, all the the classics.
We made our way to the bathroom. We went to the master bathroom, as I have not been able to use the one in the hall since the incident. After that thing came out of there, I could not stay in there or even stand outside that door for more than a couple of seconds.
Martin, of course, rushed ahead of us and closed the door.
“I guess he really had to poop,” I told Lucy. She let out a small giggle. She really did look just like her mother then. It made me miss my mom. I had been about Lucy’s age when she passed. I smiled back, hoping mom was watching over us.
After around half a minute, Martin came out of the bathroom. Lucy was already rubbing her legs together, trying to hold it in.
“Did you wash your hands?” I asked my brother.
“Yeah,” he said, rubbing his dry hands on his shirt.
I rolled my eyes and walked past him to take Lucy to the bathroom.
“Can you come in with me?” she whispered. I nodded, and she quickly did her business as I waited by the door. After washing her hands, she clung to my arm, her eyes darting to the small window high up on the wall.
“Are you guys almost done?” Martin called out from the other side of the door.
“Almost,” I called out. Usually, I would have ignored him, but not tonight. I handed Lucy my flashlight. “Watch my back, alright?” I asked her with a wink.
She took the flashlight and gave me a little nod.
As my fingers worked on unbuttoning my pants, a faint, rhythmic tapping sound echoed through the bathroom. My heart quickened as I glanced over at Lucy, whose face had turned as pale as the porcelain sink. She was staring at the tiny window, high up on the wall. It was shrouded in darkness from this angle, leaving whatever was outside hidden from my view.
“Martin, did you salt the window in…” I started to ask, but all at once, the lights went out.
I heard Lucy scream and Martin banging on the door. I fumbled for my phone as I ran to get out of there.
My hands shook as I tried to unlock my phone. In the pitch-black darkness of the bathroom, the world felt like it had crumbled into chaos. My fingers clumsily traced over the screen, and finally, the soft glow of the display illuminated the small space.
Lucy’s scream still echoed in my ears. I had to get out of there, see what was happening, and protect my little sister. My thumbs clumsily danced over the screen, trying to enable the flashlight.
Something flew past me, pushing me back. A loud thud came from where Lucy had been standing. Shocked and disoriented, I stumbled backward, crashing onto the bathroom floor with a painful thud. The impact jarred the phone from my grip, sending it clattering to the floor.
I reached up, feeling the back of my head. It hurt, but I did not feel any blood. My head was ringing, and my ears felt stuffy, drowned out by a whooshing sound like in an airplane or when driving up a mountain.
I stopped, froze would be a better word, as I realized everything had gone silent. A silent darkness had swallowed the house again like last time.
Then I heard it. It seemed to come from right next to me, if not inside my head. “Let’s play,” it whispered, each word stretched out and distorted.
I got up as fast as I could, “Martin!” I shouted, my voice quivering. “Lucy!” The fear was like a live wire in my veins.
I was reaching out on my hands and knees, looking for my phone, but I could not see anything. It was like I was trapped in a shadow.
My heart pounded in my chest as I froze, my ears straining to catch any sound of Lucy. But there was nothing, just a dreadful silence that hung heavy in the air, more suffocating than any darkness.
“Lucy,” I called out tentatively. I could feel the tears already forming in my eyes. “Lucy, answer me,” I pathetically demanded.
Still crawling, I made my way to the door, never stopping my pleas for Lucy just to answer me.
With trembling hands, I managed to unlock the door and flung it open. The bathroom door led to a narrow corridor, no longer my parents’ bedroom. I stumbled out into the inky blackness, calling for my siblings. “Lucy! Martin!”
I stood there. Not recognizing where I was and only the dark bathroom behind me. I started to turn back for my phone and remembered I had a lighter in my pocket.
I felt the tears begin to freely fall as I struggled to get the spark to catch. Once, twice, “No,” I said desperately. A third and fourth time, “Fuuucck,” I wheezed out. It caught on the fifth attempt. I breathed in and out rapidly in a manic relief.
“Martin!, Lucy!” I called out again. I stood outside the bathroom in some long hall that seemed to go on forever. Its walls faded into the darkness as far as I could see. There were doors on each side every dozen feet or so, but just like the walls, they were covered by creeping, sinuous vines that ensnared every surface in this nightmarish place.
Then I heard it, soft at first, distant. A steady, rhythmic thumping. Thump, thump, thump. It didn’t quicken, but it grew louder, more ominous with each passing moment. Desperation pushed me to raise my flickering lighter, casting eerie shadows on the walls. There was nowhere to hide unless I went back into the bathroom. Lucy was not in there, and something had attacked me in there. It was the last place I wanted to go, but I inched backward toward the open doorway.
The thumping transformed into pounding crashes, each one resonating through the ground beneath me like an approaching earthquake. I saw it. I saw something. Something running in my direction. The darkness still hid it, but it was enough to see it was headed toward me and fast.
Panic surged as I rushed back inside the bathroom, slamming the door behind me with a deafening thud. My back pressed against the door, and the wood’s coldness sent shivers down my spine. Ignoring the searing pain as the lighter scorched my leg in my pocket, I used every ounce of strength to hold the door in place, my trembling hand finding support against the cool, slick bathroom wall. My other hand clung to the edge of the countertop.
My heart was thundered, and I let out a scream as the door shook with a boom. Whatever that had been had slammed into the door and began pounding at it.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
I don’t know how long this lasted. But when it stopped, I slid to the floor, hands sore as I still pressed as hard as possible to hold the door back. Tears stained my cheeks as I cried uncontrollably.
Then, a frantic knock came on the door. Causing me to scream out again.
“Are you guys alright?” a voice said.
A little boy’s voice. I quickly reached around and swung the door open to find Martin. He was holding a flashlight, standing next to the bathroom door in our parent’s bedroom.
I grabbed and pulled him inside with me. I took his flashlight to look for my phone.
“Where is Lucy?” he asked.
I ignored him, bending down to look behind the toilet.
“Hey! Where is Lucy!” he demanded.
“I don’t!” I began yelling back in frustration but stopped. It was not his fault. It was mine. “I don’t know,” I said quietly.
I bent back down. “I need to find my phone. I need to call Dad,” I said as I stood back up.
“Are you okay?” Martin asked, “Why isn’t Lucy here?”
“It took her!” I shouted, pained by the words.
He jumped back. I could see the confusion and fear in his face. I knew he wanted answers, but I did not have any. At least any that made sense.
He looked up at the window, and I saw his questions instantly disappear. His chin scrunched up, and I could see tears welling up in his eyes.
“It’s not your fault,” I said. Even though part of me wanted to blame him, he was the child. I should have checked. “Just help me find my phone.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I need my phone, Martin!” I snapped back.
“It’s right there,” he said, pointing at my pants.
I looked down to see my phone sticking out of my front pocket.
“No,” was all I could say as I pulled it out and looked at the familiar phone case. “How?”
Before we could say anything else, the lights turned on. My brother and I looked at each other. Fear of what was going to happen next.
“We’re home!” We heard Dad call out, followed by the familiar sound of the front door closing.
We ran out of the bedroom through the hall and into the living room to see my Dad taking off his jacket as my stepmom bent down to kiss Lucy.
“Whoa, what have you guys been up to?” Our father asked. He looked concerned and walked up to me, touching my cheek. “What’s wrong sweetpea? Why were you crying?”
I was confused. Everything had happened: the strange hallway, my phone, and now Lucy standing there. Her mother’s hand in one hand with her tablet in the other as if nothing had happened. Had I imagined it all?
I wanted to confront Lucy, to demand answers. Still, her childlike innocence clashed so starkly with the horrors we’d experienced that words failed me. Instead, I exchanged a brief, wordless glance with my brother, a look that conveyed the shared terror we couldn’t put into words.
“How did…” my brother started to ask, but our half-sister spoke up then.
“We were playing a game, and I think she got scared,” Lucy said. Both of our parents looked up at me and then at each other. My stepmom rolled her eyes and bent down to pick Lucy up. As she carried her past us to take her to bed, her mother said, “Well, it’s a good thing you did not get scared.”
Lucy giggled as they walked around the corner and said, “It was just a game.”
Dread coursed through me, mixing with confusion and disbelief. I couldn’t comprehend what I was witnessing. I had just heard her scream in terror, felt the darkness close in around us, and now, she giggled as if we’d been playing some innocent game.
Our eyes met just a moment before they disappeared into the hall. There was no laughter or happiness of a seven-year-old in those eyes. It was something else, something dark.
Our Dad talked with us about caring for Lucy, that even though she was a half-sister, she was our sister. I, of course, got the worst of it. I was supposed to be the responsible one.
I told him I was upset because Mom’s anniversary was coming up. Martin was quiet the whole time.
He asked if he could sleep in my room last night, but I was going to ask him if he hadn’t. I, no, we don’t feel safe here. He had fallen asleep but I was only able to doze in and out waking up at every noise and bump in the night.
We said nothing in the morning.
I am writing this throughout the school day as I remember more details of what happened last night, but I am on the bus home now. I don’t know what is going on. Am I going crazy?
I guess I am asking for help. The salt did seem to help, but I could not do much else to test what is haunting us. Or should I say hunting us? I am not sure. I don’t know what I am going to do. Only two more stops until I have to get off the bus.