It started with a strange noise in the walls. At first, I didn’t pay it much attention. After all, I had just moved into this old house and I assumed it was just the normal sounds of an old building settling in. But as the nights went on, the noises became more and more persistent. It sounded like something scratching at the walls, as if trying to claw its way through.
I tried to ignore it, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. One night, I woke up to a tapping sound coming from the window. When I looked outside, I saw a shadowy figure standing in the yard, staring up at me. I couldn’t make out any details, but I could feel its eyes on me, watching me.
The next day, I called a local handyman to take a look at the walls. He didn’t find anything unusual, but as he was leaving, he warned me to be careful in this house. He said he had heard stories about strange happenings here, and that I should keep my eyes and ears open.
As the days went on, the strange occurrences continued. Objects would move on their own, and I would hear footsteps in the hallway when I was alone. I tried to convince myself that it was just my imagination, but I knew deep down that something was wrong.
Then, one night, I woke up to find the shadowy figure standing at the foot of my bed. It was darker than the darkness around it, and I could feel its eyes on me once again. I tried to scream, but my voice was stuck in my throat. I couldn’t move, couldn’t even blink.
The figure leaned in closer, and I could feel its breath on my face. It whispered something, but I couldn’t make out the words. Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, it vanished into thin air.
The next day, I decided to do some research on the house. I found out that it had once belonged to a wealthy family who had all died under mysterious circumstances. The father had gone insane and murdered his wife and children before killing himself. No one had lived in the house since then.
That night, I was awoken by the sound of scratching in the walls again. But this time, I knew what it was. It was the sound of the father trying to claw his way out of the afterlife and into our world. And I knew that he would never stop until he had claimed me as his next victim.
I tried to leave the house, but I couldn’t. Every time I tried to pack my things and run, something held me back. It was as if the house had a grip on me, and it wouldn’t let me go.
As the days turned into weeks, I began to lose track of time. I didn’t eat, I didn’t sleep, I just sat in my room and waited for the ghost to come back. And he always did.
One night, as I was sitting in the darkness, I heard a voice. It was the voice of the father, and he was telling me his story. He had been a wealthy man, but he had lost everything in the stock market crash of 1929. His wife had left him, taking their children with her. He had become obsessed with the idea of getting them back, even if it meant killing them.
As he spoke, I could feel his anger and his pain. And I realized that he wasn’t just a vengeful ghost seeking revenge. He was a broken man, trapped in this house just as I was.
And then, suddenly, everything went quiet. The scratching stopped, the footsteps faded away, and the father’s voice trailed off into nothingness.
For a moment, I was relieved. It was over. But then I heard a new sound. It was a sound that chilled me to my very core. It was the sound of a child’s laughter.
I looked around, but I was alone in the darkness. The laughter grew louder, and I realized that it was coming from inside me. The father had found a way inside my mind, and he was taking control.
I tried to fight it, but it was too late. I was no longer myself. I was the father, consumed by anger and pain. And I knew that I would never leave this house. I would be trapped here forever, just like he was.
Now, I am the one scratching at the walls, trying to claw my way out of this afterlife and into the world of the living. And I will never stop until I have claimed my next victim.
So if you ever find yourself in an old, creaky house with strange noises in the walls, be warned. It might not be the house that’s haunted. It might be you.