“His name, I found out via bank statements he had left on his kitchen counter, is Norman Jones. A large man in his late fifties. Dishevelled is one word that comes to my mind when I look down at him. Dishevelled and unkempt. It’s no wonder he lives alone. Which suits me well as one person alone is enough fun.
The first day I found Norman’s house was a couple of weeks ago. I was angry and upset to find him so close to the forest as I hoped to never see him again - yet I stayed by his windows Peering in to watch him go about his day. Watching him microwave every meal as he listened to the radio. Watching him print out important papers in his study. For three whole days I walked around the house and for three whole nights I slept outside.
On the fourth day he had come to take out some rubbish and found me propped up against one of the bins. He dropped the black bag he had been holding and ran back inside. A fuzzy feeling came over me, I felt excited and aroused. The feeling I got from scaring him was addicting and I needed more. So I followed him inside, but made sure he could not see me. There I had a better view of him and even had access to the upstairs.
That night I waited for him to retire to his bedroom. He was sat on the sofa with his head in his hands, the light of the television colouring the room blue. That night he did not sleep and that dissapointed me. Although I now understand he may have been so scared seeing me asleep that he couldn’t sleep himself.
The next night he did finally go up to his bedroom to sleep. I followed him up and waited outside his bedroom door until he was fast asleep. Once he was, I went into the bedroom. Leaning over him I brought my mud stained hand to his face and gently caressed his cheek. I’d whisper to him “Wake up” hoping he would. But he never did. Nevertheless, for the next two weeks I watched him sleep, caressed his cheeks and whispered all sorts of things in his ears to get him to wake up.
He still did not wake up, that was until last week. I followed my routine and this time I was frustrated to find he had still not woken up. Rather than lean over him I climbed up onto his chest. I held his face with a harsh grip and screamed into his ears. This woke him up.
He screamed and kicked me off. “Who are you?” He shouted “if you want money take it, just don’t kill me”. A laugh escaped my mouth at his reaction. It was so funny to me that he thought I was a burglar. I stepped back and stood infront of the window where a little light peeked through. There he saw who I truelly was. A young girl dressed in nothing more than her underwear, covered in muck and leaves. His eyes moved up to my forehead where a large bloody wound dyed a part of my dark blonde hair red.
“You…” was all he said before getting up and running out of the house to his car. He drove off and that would be the last I ever saw if him.
By now it was morning and I made my way back to the forest behind his house. Following the muddy path I knew well. I walked a mile into the forest until I found the tree I had woken up next to, and where my body still lied. Norman Jones left me here to be eaten away by nature. His wish had come true, my body was a feeding ground for all sorts of creatures. It looks nothing like me anymore. I couldn’t bare to see myself like this and left my body.
Now I wonder along the edge of the forrest, hoping to find Norman again. He took away my life and the least I can do is ruin his. But I will never get my chance to ruin his life. He’s gone and sold the house to a family. My feet hurt if I venture too far from the forest. I’m left to think of nothing but my death, which repeats itself over and over in my head. I am only 15. Where is my revenge?”
Never in my life have I had a ghost talk for so long through the EVP, especially this clear. She did take a long time telling her story as she found it difficult to make contact. So I asked her how she could talk to Norman but not to me through the EVP. Her answer was two words: “no anger” and that was when all contact through the EVP stopped, My fault entirely I accidentally pressed the stop button. Luckily I had asked for her name at the start of the session. Her name was Elisa Pritchard and I’ll be spending a good few weeks researching to see if her murder has been solved or not. I will keep you guys updated but for now I must go.
Comment by: @Ghostfinder1998