I extended my hand, still on the other side of the "barrier" that kept me away safe from the soft sirimiri that hadn't even gone to the stage of a drizzle yet. The droplets of water hit my hand as hard as a rock and as gentle as a feather. Nothing was stopping me from crossing the line, which was half of the tire from my mom's car and the shadow of the roof above me that marked the house's patio. As scared as I felt, I still had the temptation to throw myself onto the driveway and feel the rain fall upon me, soaking my hair, my clothes, my skin. The pitch black and starless sky would be the only thing I would be afraid of. The thunder roared, the lightning stroke. My fears were crawling up my spine, and the rain was beginning to no longer be the only thing that was making me shiver...
Are you wondering where that came from? What happened that made me so scared? Are you readers confused? It may get more confusing, but please, remain positioned, get comfortable and enjoy the story.
We moved in this house about a month and 12 days ago, and all seemed really well. It was my grandparent's house originally, but since my household and I were really in need of a new home, they passed it down to us. We're still gradually paying it off which my grandparent's are okay with. It was funny for me, really. To be moving into the home that I was raised in from time to time. Yes, that's right. On Saturday nights my parents would drop me off at my grandparent's home when they were going out together, like to karaoke at the local bar. I loved spending time with my grandparents. It never got old.
But now I was living in their home, and they were living with my father's brother and my cousins. Uncle Samuel and my cousins who fight a lot, Mannie and Jordan. The two sisters quarreled too much, but both of them were my closest friends. My uncle Samuel liked to play video games, especially on rainy nights. Once in a while they would drop me off at 6 PM to hang out with my uncle, and we would play games on his many consoles. They'd be either horror games or story-based games. And sometimes, even genuine games that were just there to be addictive.
I stopped wanting to go to the house after a while. I used to love going there, every time my parents informed me that we were going to my grandparent's house after the store or after a trip the blood would rush through my veins from excitement, and I'd immediately rush out of my small room. That was all until the true story unfolded, and I no longer liked to open up. Talking to my friends was boring, my friends themselves were boring, visiting my grandparent's became such a bore as well. This was all because of one thing, and those of you reading this probably won't believe me when I say I locked myself away because of a simple... spirit. Do you believe in ghosts? You should. After this you may.
It all started with me just sitting in my room, my thumbs tapping away on my smartphone. I had gotten it a week ago, and I was already so addicted. That's a thing my parents surprisingly didn't worry very much about me, that I was drawn to technology and anytime I got on a device I was almost glued on until they announced we were going to my grandparent's house. I took a short break, pressing the button that "turned off" my phone. As the screen went black, I saw my reflection. Behind that was something, or someone... else. I felt incredibly uneasy, blinking so the figure would go away, and it did. But just one second after that my eyes---almost like instinct---darted towards my door.
My sister had walked in, her red hair teased and covering her shoulders, her bold choice in fashion making her look so generic like always. She stared at a wall across from the room, the one behind the T.V. But while opening my mouth to ask her what she was doing, I remembered my sister had died in an alley way about six years ago.
She stared right at me, her brown eyes cold and lifeless. The devil's eyes. But right after I remembered my real sister's death, the figure of her began to change. The girl staring at me was now wearing a white dress, all the way below her knee caps, but leaving enough leg space to reveal the girl's ankles and bare feet. Her hair was a deep black, and her bangs were pushed back. I didn't have enough time to memorize her face before she disappeared, leaving me clueless and wondering about who she was.
I felt like even though she wasn't visible anymore, she was still there in my room, standing around and watching me, wondering why she couldn't stay a live little girl as I was. I rose up from my bed, throwing my phone on the mattress. Stretching out my arms, I wrapped them around the air, thinking that I was hugging the spirit. It was a nice thought.
After that day, it seemed as if the girl had clung herself to me. Every single day at the corner of my eye, I would see nothing but black and grey figures. Sometimes I'd see them move and other times they'd just be at my peripheral for a split second. It didn't drive me mad or anything, but it made me upset they only targeted me and why I was the only one who saw them. A few years ago I wasn't so lonely, being the only one who could see ghosts. My sister was able to feel their presence, and together we'd detect ghosts and tell our parents about it. It was fun, but now I was all alone with no one else who would believe me. I wanted help, to get these things away from me. It seemed harmless, but it began evolving into something more than just a few ghosts following me around.
This is the part where I start shutting myself out, trying to lock myself up and not make contact with anyone else. Things were getting to my head. Fear, corruption, sorrow. Doubt, anxiety, hate. The many spirits who wanted me for my gift of being able to see them had become something more, they became darkness and that darkness followed me around everywhere. Anywhere and everywhere I looked there was something there that had followed me and was waiting for me. They were always dark and always sent off negative energy and thoughts, and my only solution was to run. In my room or in public, I always zoomed out as quickly as possible to get outside where the light in the sky would be shining. At night, it scared me even more. I still hadn't adapted, and when the sun fell and the moon placed itself in the sky, the darkness just worsened and usually prevented me from sleeping. I was always too paranoid to even close my eyes or keep them close for at least three seconds. Shadows would stretch over my ceiling, they would peer at me from my window, they would watch me from the television set, they would reach my mirror and closet and every crease of my room. My white walls would be painted with the black darkness of nightmares, and I would refuse to go into slumber.
Sometimes they'd even haunt me individually. In the bathroom, I'd always have this weird theory there was someone behind the shower curtain, waiting for me. I heard things, everywhere around the house, for some reason especially the bathroom. Whenever going down the hall at around evening, I'd always run. Never brisk-walk, never regularly walk, never face my fears. I always pictured a slender and withering female in my bathroom, in the dark, waiting to reach out and capture me. And so I carried my legs as fast as I could. But they were everywhere, especially the woman. She always hung out in the hallways, ready for me. But my house still felt safe, even if it wasn't in the slightest.
I had given up on going out into the open, and when I did it was only to get away from those who haunted me. I developed a fear for the dark and began sleeping with a night light and music playing from my radio. The darkness was still there, it was always everywhere, even in people I saw. My parents began to worry for me. I began to worry for myself. Every inch of family I had began to worry for me, about my mental health and physical health, just genuinely me.
It was torture that this all had to fall down on me and affect everyone surrounding me. I had a few thoughts about taking my life and joining in with the shadows and spirits who haunted me, just to make things better for those who had to worry. But I was smarter than that. I knew it was just the ghosts tantalizing me, toying with me.
During all this distress and sorrow, I had gradually been developing a love for rain. It seemed to calm me through everything that I had to go through. It made me feel better, and less scared when grey clouds gathered, when thunder and lightning rolled, and when little droplets of water came down from the sky and made pitter-patters on the roof. The patterns of the rain fall had distracted me from everything, gathering all of me and my attention to the window to watch the beauty of it all. I especially loved it when the water dripped and smeared on my window, racing each droplet down to the crease of the metal.
One night, or well, this night, I was sitting on the sofa reading a short book. I was the closest to one of the biggest windows in our house, listening to the rain heavily descending from the sky. The words of my book seemed to blend in with the pretty sounds of falling water. This setting and this night was all I needed at this time, and a mug of tea was close to my feet at the edge of the coffee table, waiting for a few more sips.
The T.V. was showing my father and mother's favorite ghost shows, my father reading news articles and my mother drinking her tea while her eyes while partly glued on the television. Suddenly, I had a strange urge to go outside, and feel the wetness of the rain on my skin. Even if I was just wearing a tee-shirt and underwear, it was a strong temptation. Setting my book down and sipping my tea, I made my way to the back door where the kitchen was. The marble floor welcomed my bare feet smoothly to the door.
Turning the knob and stepping outside, I looked to the jet black sky and twinkling rain. I was perfect bait for the darkness now, but I decided just to feel the rain a bit. I wouldn't go into the driveway, just let it slide down my hand.
The soft little drops hit my hand softly and hardly at the same time, a slight smile on my face as the rain was so cautious. Everything seemed to be closing up against me, it felt like I was almost pushed as I took two steps forward, crossing the border my mother's car's tire made. The cement below my feet felt dry but moisturized at the same time. I took more steps, the rain falling harder than before, entirely soaking me. The only light there was was the moon, covered by clouds so its bright radiance was faint. The sky was starless, and almost everything was in complete darkness. I could feel my clothes getting tighter as they stuck to my skin from all the water. Something was making me stay there, almost like my bare feet were glued onto the cement driveway like my mother's eyes were glued to the T.V. screen...
Everything was now completely black, there was nothing left except the death of the moon's light which was slowly beginning to disappear. My fear for the darkness was the only thing making me tempted to rush back inside my house, which I tried, I really did. But I couldn't budge. Slowly, I started walking toward the street even though that was the exact opposite of where I was going. I finally saw lights, they were the lights of the car that was just a turn away. Not even the lamp lights were on, one was but flickered out completely. My heart started beating crazily, I tried and tried and tried to leave, but everywhere I could turn there were faces. Demented faces, twisted, turned, and they pushed me closer and closer to the street. The rain was no longer the only water streaming down my face, I was crying. I was cold and afraid.
I couldn't leave. I fell onto my hands and knees, the faces still everywhere.
My eyes were closed, my face was down, my brown hair looked black from the moisture and fell over my shoulders.
But I had to accrue the braveness to open my eyes and leave, even if I couldn't. I had to try more and more. I had to scream.
I looked up, the only thing I could see was the girl from my room, her bangs still pushed back.
I could see her face now. The rain was streaming down her cheeks as well, forming the illusion of tears.
Looking closer, I regretted being able to memorize every detail of her face.
The car was here.
Story entries for the May – June (2016) Sixpenceee Story Contest can be found here. Simply submit a story to enter. Stories don't necessarily have to be creepy, for example, thought provoking stories or stories with a twist are definitely acceptable.
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