La rue way

Ghosts were supposed to be fiction. My mother and I wanted a fresh start from my mother’s divorce to my father. I and he never were really on the best of terms. I and my mom just needed a new start. We moved to the countryside, a whole state away from my old life.

I was a 16-year-old girl, starting my junior year in a couple of weeks. Moving was hard on my mom. She was usually bright and bubbly, now she was depressed and angry, bitter even. I kept to myself as I read for hours or would play basketball with the other kids in our neighborhood.

I had chosen a room that was below the attic. My mom took the room that was next to the kitchen. I would help her unpack for a couple of hours then go and play basketball with the boys and girls in our neighborhood, making friends with a couple of them instantly.

The long hot summer nights brought new challenges as the small town engulfed my city ways. The countryside home I lived in now was a small farmhouse connected with an old beat-up farm that my mother turned into her woman cave.

My mother would spend long hours in there conforming, changing, and making it sparkle as I started to get ready for school. When I was home I was setting up my desktop computer and I was setting up my television in my room. But I started to notice things that would be out of place. Or I would notice shadows in a well-lit room that would disappear when you looked back at them. It was quite freaky. My house was laid out with two stories. Stairs that led up to my room, the upper closets, a couple of game rooms, and the attic door that came from the ceiling.

During this time, I started to hear voices, clawing sounds, and feel chills that crept down my spine. My mother didn’t notice any of it as she worked long hours at the local hospital and I was home alone most of the time.

One night I decided that I was going to check out the locked attic. My mother had checked it out and found that it was locked or may be stuck. But when I came up, the attic door was down and there was eerie darkness surrounding it that I couldn’t tell what it was.

“Mom, you up there?” I asked staring at the steps that were primed with aged wood.

No one answered me as I slowly climbed the creaky stairs. I slowly walked up holding out my phone, the light-emitting from my flashlight. I slowly climbed in looking for what was up here. It was barren except for a couple of broken dolls, old newspaper clippings, and an old jewelry box. I slowly went back to the entrance when it shut immediately, scaring me.

“Mom I am up here, mom this isn’t funny!” I screamed as I heard nothing on the other end. I tried to push down on it, it to give but it felt like someone was holding it, preventing me from getting down.

I started to scratch at it but it didn’t help my case. I tried to call my mom but my phone went off, with nothing to no avail for me. I was scared as I started to hear a buzzing sound that came from the only other logical place, the music box.

I slowly crawled over there to the music box as it sprung to life. I couldn’t believe it, with my eyes I saw that the dolls come to life, an apparition holding them in place as the eerie music, which sounded like scratching started to speak.

I slowly backed up as they creepily smiled at me.

“Will you be a friend?” One of the dolls said with a small childlike voice.

I shook my head as the attic slowly opened, my footing being misplaced as I was thrown three feet to the ground. I stayed on the floor as it slowly closed back up. I screamed as my mother came in the door.

It was roughly ten at night, I know I went in there around 5 pm or so. My mother came rushing up as I slowly got to my feet, the wind having walked up. I saw a shadow cast against the wall disappearing on the attic door.

“Are you okay? What happened?” She asked as she helped me up.

I felt stiff and hurt, but I was fine thankfully.

I couldn’t speak as she helped me down the steps to our kitchen.

“What happened?” She asked again more firmly as she started to whisk up some dinner, I slowly stood up to help her and set the table.

“I fell from the attic,” I said not knowing what to say about what I had just seen.

“Yeah, and what is up there?” She asked looking back up at the attic door that was firmly held.

“Old newspapers, broken dolls, and a music box but ma, there is something evil about it. I got stuck up there and I don’t know what is up there but it is not good.” I said icily, my voice shaking as I didn’t want to relive what happened up there.

“Ghosts aren’t real honey but how did you get down.” She asked staring at me.

I brought over the butter, honey, and salt and pepper as she put some chili and hush puppies onto my dish.

“It opened from underneath me; I lost my footing and fell on my back,” I said truthfully.

I was visibly shaking as she started to make some homemade corn hush puppies, chili, and cornbread. I had set our small table with napkins, our new ceramic plates, and two cups filled with half and half, tea, and homemade lemonade.

“Honey, you’re probably just shaken up about tomorrow. Tomorrow is a big day, now I want you to get ready for bed once dinner is done.” She replied firmly.

I nodded to her as I ate my meal quietly. Once we were done, I cleaned up the table and washed the dishes for the night. My mother kissed my head as she handed me a bag filled with school supplies. I thanked her as I went back up the stairs to my room.

I noticed my bag that was supposed to be on my bed, was on the floor having fallen off. I grabbed my bible cd and started to play it at full blast in my room as I went to go in and take a shower. I came back out to my CD player broken against the wall. I stared at it with tears in my eyes. That was the only thing my father gave me and now it was gone.

I slowly stood up with anger in my eyes and anger at my fingertips.

“Fine ghost, you win, you want to make my life a living heck, come on and do it but just so you know, you are not welcome here and never will be,” I said angrily through clenched teeth.

I packed my school bag, putting it next to my door, throwing the radio into the garbage can, and got dressed in my pajamas drifting off into deep sleep.

I couldn’t wake up from a nightmare that took over my night. It felt so real too. I was being stared at by a dark shadow that watched me with great disdain. It kept on repeating itself. Get out, Kill you. This was over and over as I screamed at it angrily in frustration.

It then attacked me as I fought back. It scratched me, which I could feel blood dripping from my wounds. I was in that room again and I couldn’t get out. A child's apparition started to form with tears falling down her face.

She said she was trapped there, that the shadow man wouldn’t let her go. I told her she needs to go. She said she couldn’t, that she needed help. I shook my head not knowing what to do. That is when I woke up to my alarm screaming.

I noticed I had dried blood all over me; I had scratches on my arms and legs. I didn’t just dream it. I felt woozy as the day started. I got dressed, brushed my teeth, and went out the door with my bag having worn long sleeves to hide the scratches.

“How did you sleep, honey?” My mother asked as she got ready for work. She seemed tired and nauseous as well. I noticed she had similar scratches.

“He got you too; see I am not the only one,” I stated furiously.

“It was just a dream, now finish up I have to drop you off and get to work.” She barked pointing to my meal.

I sighed as I dug into the cabbage egg drop soup my mother had made from scratch. I finished it quickly, washing my dish.

I stared back up at the attic; the door was slowly creeping down.

“If you won’t believe me, then follow me. Grab a bible; we will get this demon out of here.” I screamed as her attic closed instinctively.

I banged on the attic door as my mom had seen it go back up.

“Come out you moniker, you do not belong in this house, the power of Christ compels you to leave,” I screamed at it as the attic opened with a crash, me and ma hopping out of the way. The shadow started to form with callous red eyes.

It tried to grab for my throat as it went through me to ma.

I started to read bible passages, screaming at it to leave over and over. The minutes started ticking by that it stood there watching me and watching ma. It would not budge. Mom started to scream at it as it disappeared, the windows turning brighter and the world around us becoming easier.

I was three hours late to school that day. I picked up my homework from my first three periods and met up with a neighbor, the scratches on me had almost disappeared completely. In history, I found out the truth about my house.

Mr. Boss, his actual last name was a lanky Italian man with a sharp nose and a sandwich in his hands. He was munching on it as I walked in with my friend and took our seats. I saw on the board that today was a free discussion topic today.

The class slowly filed in realizing there was a new kid. They all started to gossip, chattering away when the bell rang.

Mr. Boss came to the front chowing down on a second sandwich that had miraculously appeared in his hands. He seemed content as kids started to accept papers he was handing out, syllabuses, concepts, and more as we were introduced to him.

“Hello class, History of the US part 1a, today will be an easy day as we won’t get our textbooks till next Monday. Now let’s start with some discussion topics. And I want you to write some debates to them. And turn that in for your first assignment.” He said munching away as we all started to discuss various topics and write answers to them.

Some were on summer break, me the new girl, dinosaurs, evolution, baseball, the importance of the medical industry, the importance of business versus factions with employees and somehow it steered to ghosts.

Some girl with long curly brown hair, beautiful mocha skin, and bright cheeks, started off the discussion as she came to the platform.

“Ghosts do not exist. Period. Why should something like ghosts and shadows exist when there are no scientific discoveries on the matter? Ghosts are against the very nature of the existence of a soul after death and also disprove that demons existence is just pop culture, fiction because of the nature in abnormalities being fiction versus science.” Her repertoire went as she sat down.

Someone with a long mullet and the brightest blue eyes stood up and took the platform.

“Then how do you explain the Amityville case, how do you explain ghost adventures or the many cases from personal experiences?” The kid said as his mullet swung, sitting back down.

I slowly stood up and went to the podium staring at all of them.

“I can explain shadows and ghosts are real. I just lived through it. And yes I am now before you ask, my name is Annette Cluster but I just moved into the new house at the end of the street on La Rue way.” I eerily spoke looking down a bit.

“You serious, that place is a haunting waiting to happen. I heard a kid died there.” Mr. Boss said frantically trying to change the subject.

“What do you know,” I asked him as he shook his head changing the subject.

Class ended with us turning the discussion towards the idea of self and the impact it has on life. I turned in my assignment as Mr. Boss told me to wait a minute. Once the rest of the class left he started to speak about the house and how his grandfather knew the child and was friends with the person that owned the house, the irony, the person who originally owned the house was a lone farmer that practiced Wiccan. That made a lot more sense as I went about free of the idea of how this ghost nonsense happened.