I was having a quiet night at my apartment, I had just finished watching this new Netflix horror movie that came out recently and now i knew i had to get back to doing my schoolwork by updating some blogs that I ran, when I heard a noise coming from the kitchen. It sounded like a small bin falling off of the kitchen counter. I ignored it, and got back to typing. Then, I heard a nasty, large ‘clunk’. The noise didn’t sound good, almost as if it came from something heavy falling onto the kitchen floor. I paused again, wondering what it could have been.
I opened my door and peeked into the hallway. It was dark, with just a small table lamp, which was ajar, lighting the hallway. I could see a moving shadow on my kitchen floor. I walked to the kitchen, feeling a slight bit of fear wash over me. When I looked in the kitchen, I was shocked to see a huge television. It was as tall as a fridge and as wide as a sofa. It wasn’t on, but when I tried to touch it, it began to glow, before turning on automatically. There was an image on the screen, an image I had seen my whole life. It was an image of the Blair Witch and her three companions as they walked to their doom. What was this? Why was this playing? It made me feel… scared. Yet, I had no idea why.
There were 4 normal lamps on the kitchen, but then one odd lamp appeared on the table beside my computer. I pushed this, and the special lamp lit up, casting the kitchen in a mysterious, dark glow. The television was facing me. The Witch was swaying and the trees were moving, but the scene was upside down. Everything, the way it was meant to look, was upside down, yet the world view, the right side of the screen, was right side up.
I heard a noise again, and walked to my neighbor, who was working a table in the kitchen. I tapped him. He opened his eyes, and jumped, looking scared. He turned on the lamp, shoving a mask that was on the table under his bed, before turning off the lamp. I asked him what he was doing up this late. He just said that he had been having a nightmare, not sure what he meant by that. He left me in the kitchen, going back to his room, while I stared at the television. I put my laptop on the kitchen table and tried to work, but it wasn’t possible with the television. Eventually, I put my laptop on the mattress, which was in the living room. I laid on the mattress, watching the television. I found out my neighbor was right. The television was scary. I was having a nightmare, but the television in my house made it seem so real. I was terrified. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t sleep.
I glared at the television screen. ‘I want to die.’ I thought to myself. I wanted to die. The TV would scare me to death. I had to sleep. I sat up, fast, and tried to get out my laptop. It wasn’t where I left it. I went to the kitchen, shrugging and stopped by the television. I was scared of it. I had been sitting there for an hour, and I hadn’t noticed. It had come on by itself. I looked at it, and it was evil. Dark. Everything was messed up. Evil. It was very creepy to me. I turned it off, and went to the kitchen, using my laptop to search the internet. I was looking for a solution. I was scared. I needed to move my laptop. I put it on the mattress, which was now on the living room floor. I turned off the television, and just sat there, in the dark, on my mattress, with my laptop. I tried to fall asleep, but it was hard with the television on. I couldn’t sleep.
Light was filling up the room. It felt different. I got up. Suddenly, I heard something moving in the living room. I thought it was a noise from my neighbor’s room, but then I realized it was coming from the living room. The lights were on, but I could see nothing moving. I had a weird feeling crawling over me, and I ran to the living room. I fired a gun into the living room, but still, I could see nothing. It was like my eyes were shut, but they were open. It was dark, yet I could see in front of me. I shuffled to the television. It was dark, just like the room. I touched it and turned it off, and I could see again. I started to get scared. I started to scream.
There was blood on my walls. I was screaming. I was in the living room and I could see the blood on the walls. I could see the blood and a shadowy figure. I started to run, desperately. The figure was frozen. I could hear it moving, and could see a blurry figure. I fired the gun into the figure, but the figure didn’t stop. It just kept mouthing my name and moving towards me. I fell, and saw the figure as it came to me. Blood from its face was dripping on me. Its face was distorted and evil. Its eyes were red and it was frothing at the mouth. It nipped at my legs. Blood was dripping from it, against the carpet. It came face to face with me and my hands were shaking, shivering. I pulled the trigger, but the shots didn’t work. I closed my eyes, pulling the trigger again and again. I opened my eyes again, and the figure was gone. The figure was on top of me, and I was on the ground. My face and chest was covered in blood and I was cold. I screamed and woke up. There was no television. I ran to my neighbor’s house. I had never needed anyone else. I began screaming and banging, needing my neighbor to wake up. He got up and looked at me in horror. He fitted me with his jacket and shoes, and I followed him out. I was scared. I had no idea what was happening.
He led me to the surgery. He told me to lay on the table and he’d get the doctor. He left, and I laid on the table, too tired and horrified to cry. I couldn’t understand what was happening. My face was covered in blood, and I wondered what this was about. The blood was from my room. Some that I could see was from the blood on my walls. The blood on my walls wasn’t on the blood on my face. It was like someone had taken it off to paint the walls brick red. My face was different. It was rubbery. I was trying my hardest to make sense. It was like I was in a cold room, with a warm blanket, but as soon as I switched my position, it transitioned. I couldn’t hold in a scream, but it was quiet. I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t hurt. I was realistic. I was innocent. This was all wrong. Why was I covered in blood? Why was there blood on my walls?
Something was wrong with me. I was afraid. I closed my eyes, and that’s when the walls shrieked. One word was spoken. ‘‘Don’t.’’ I kept my eyes closed, knowing it didn’t help. I was still awake for something. Something moved behind me. There was a mirror behind me. The figure was behind me. I could see the shadow, with blood dripping from it. I could see it in the mirror. The shadow was blurry. I could see it in front of me as it thumped closer. I could feel it breathing on my neck. My eyes still closed. The mirror was cracking. I was exhausted. The mirror cracked, and a sharp pain hit my neck. It was like a sting, and my head fell forward. The mirror fell. I opened my eyes. The figure was gone. It was like nothing had happened. I had a concussion. There was blood dripping from my head. I sat across the interrogation room, talking to the detective, and gave him my story. I was being very precise. I told him how I woke up, and how I had had a headache, and how the blood on my head could have been caused by the mirror. I told them how I woke up with the walls. I told him the black figure. I gave him all the details. I was very careful. I told him how I doubted I could see it if I had been awake so long. I told him what I did when I saw the figure. The blood on my walls, and the blood on my face. He had been listening to me since I was in the police station. I had the look down well. My eyes were a dead color, and I had a blank expression. He asked me if I knew where the mirror could have come from. I didn’t know. He said that he doubted it could have been someone from my house. I said it could have been from my house.
He had drawn my bathroom in red. It turned out to be on my walls. I wasn’t aware of my bathroom at all. Only the mirror. I told him it could have been there before, because I had had a headache every time I talked to him, and I had enough of a headache to draw my bathroom before I talked to him. He didn’t believe me. I told him the figure went on my head. He said it was impossible; I hadn’t been in the interrogation room. I didn’t have a bath in the time I was gone. I told him it could have been another night of my life. He asked how I could be so sure. I had no idea. The figure disappeared after I opened my eyes. It could have occurred when I opened my eyes. He doubted me. I didn’t get a bump from the mirror. I had a bad concussion. I was knocked out. He almost questioned my story, having me recount it to see if I lied. I told him the same story, making no mistakes. He said it was impossible for the figure to kill me without me feeling it.
I didn’t agree. I sat there, talking to him. He was convinced I was lying. I was perfectly calm. I had a bump, but it didn’t hurt. I was perfectly fine. I had had a headache ever since I woke up. I had a few aches and pains, but that was it. It was normal. The aches and pains had been there before. He questioned my memory. I had no memory of my life. It was all a blur. I didn’t have anything to remember, and he didn’t believe me. I had no father, no past, and no family. I could barely remember what my house was like. All I could remember was blood and monsters. It was impossible to have gotten all these bruises on my body only after sleeping. He asked me to remember a time before I knew of blood and monsters. I couldn’t. I had taught myself all of my memories, after I closed my eyes. We left the room, and walked into the main room. The screen on the wall was still bright and made visible the mirror on the wall. I knew where it came from.
I tried to make sense of it. I was scared that I had done something to the man. He was mad at the mirror. I didn’t know what I had done, or why the mirror was bleeding, but it made sense. I wanted to stop the bleeding. I didn’t want him to die. I told him that the screen was bleeding. That the screen was bleeding and was the cause of all his worries. He didn’t want to believe me, even with my evidence. He thought it was all a lie. He said I would lie to escape the man’s anger. I didn’t know how he thought that. I didn’t know he was angry with me. I had no idea. I wouldn’t see the man for a long time. I had never seen him that angry before. He never did anything to me, but he was very angry, and he wasn’t even there. It was all a blur. All I knew was that I felt sorry for him. I knew he had no idea what was killing everyone. From what I had said, the screen had caused him to go mad. The screen was bleeding, and he was mad, and the blood was worse than the screen. He was crying, begging to be let go. He was starving, and he was sick. He had no idea what he was. He didn’t know what was killing everyone.
I was confused. Something was wrong. I didn’t know where he was, and I asked him where he was. He didn’t know. He said he didn’t have a body, and he was all alone. I listened to the man cry. He was all alone. I wondered if I would be alone sometime. Would I be out in the world in a dead body? Would I be called a ghost? He was all alone, and I was alone.