The Pasta Edit
So, basically, this journal is the only thing I can confide in since neither my parents nor my brothers refuse to believe that I am being “haunted” by a ghost girl.
The only person in the house – other than myself, of course – that believes in ghosts or demons, or anything really, is Zack, my oldest brother. And even he doesn’t care. The younger one, Brandon, just doesn’t give two flying... yeah. He laughs at my feeble attempts to wake him up after I have any nightmares about her.
But anyway, I figured I could maybe write this today because, well, she’s back.
She came to me in my nightmare last night. I’ll most likely be able to refrain from sparing any details because I still remember every single thing, even as I’m writing this at 3 in the morning…
The Nightmare Begins Edit
It was on Halloween, as was yesterday. I had gotten home from trick-or-treating and deposited my candy bags onto the couch, Brandon still out in his costume, Zack hanging with his friends at Village Square.
I flicked on the TV, bored out of my mind because, well, what else was there to do? To my complete distaste, nothing was on that I was interested in, so there I sat, waiting for something – anything – to happen.
Brandon came home about half an hour later, a few bags of candy in his hands as well. He had about as much as me, if not more. Brandon sat down beside me on the couch, stretching his limbs from walking so much.
“This is just about the only time of the year that you actually walk somewhere.” I teased him, punching his left shoulder.
“Yeah, but at least I don’t wear heels the entire time like someone I know.” He looked smug, cocking his head sideways to look at me.
“Hey! I like the sound they make when I walk!” I frowned childishly. Being the youngest and the only girl, this was something that I believed I had mastered.
Brandon looked around the house in boredom. “Hmm. I think I might go to bed.” He announced, and was off to upstairs.
“Yeah, after you eat 10 bags of chips…” I smirked in his direction.
“HEY - SHUT UP!” His teasing voice reverberated off of the walls as he stomped upstairs. “ANGRY GRUNT.”
Only Brandon… I thought, laughing silently. Taking the bags of candy with me upstairs, I lugged myself to my bedroom, dropping them off at the foot of my bed.
But something about my room didn’t feel right tonight.
I felt… like something was watching me.
A wave of nausea passed over me, so terrible I had to grip my bed for support. I covered my mouth to prevent anything from flying right out, but, as soon as it had come over me, it was gone. I no longer felt like throwing up, for some reason, but I quickly dismissed this as eating too much candy.
‘Cause – let’s be honest. I can’t keep my hand out of the damn thing for too long…
I plopped down onto my bed, back first, and stared at the ceiling. I didn’t feel really tired, or anything, really, but the moment my eyes shut and my head hit the pillow, I felt slumber take me in its warm and inviting hands.
Blinking the sleep out of my eyes, I woke once more, feeling my throat hoarse and dry.
I think I needed a drink.
So, I decided to get up. I stumbled and slumped out of the room, unaware of everything around me. Frankly, I didn’t care. My objective was to get downstairs and get some water. I walked into the kitchen in about five minutes of complete darkness, flipped on the light, turned on the tap and ran it above a glass. I sat in silence for a moment, staring at the cup, apparently rethinking my life, for some reason.
…Yeah… I was a weird kid, so this was practically normal…
I drank the cup of water in a few seconds’ time and placed it in the sink. I flicked the light off and walked sluggishly upstairs, aware of any noise I was making, considering the entire household other than myself was still asleep. I made as minimal noise as possible, and walked into my bedroom.
I opened the door and walked in backwards, the kind of thing that I normally do, then closed it whilst looking down. I wheeled around and looked up.
Whatever it was that I saw still gives me nightmares to this very day, and it still disturbs me.
A dark mass, sitting at the foot of my bed.
For some reason, I felt urged to walk towards whatever the hell this thing was instead of my normal reaction. If I were thinking rationally, I would’ve turned tail and ran out of my room.
But naturally, who would believe me? Who stands alone among the skeptics in this house and who doesn’t?
I couldn’t tell, so I decided to investigate this… this thing on my own.
I leaned closer – just a little bit closer – to see this thing’s face. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t see a single detail. The only things I saw were the apparel and basic appearance of the figure.
“She” was young, with very long, black hair. Something dark clung to the ends of the hairs, but I couldn’t see what. Her skin was awfully pale. She sat up in the fetal position on the end of my bed, her hands on her head, arms covering her face from my vision. A dark liquid spread from her chest, head and somewhere near her face. It was flowing freely into a small, dark red pool on the floor, which was illuminated only by a thin sliver of golden light from my bedroom window. Massive shudders wracked her white-clad body as she breathed in and out with extreme haste. Her sobs echoed around my room, and it surprised me that my family was still asleep at this point.
I leaned even closer to see her, whispering in my own fear. “Are… are you okay..?”
The breathing stopped. The world stopped. The sobbing stopped. Everything in life had halted, as if anticipating and waiting for what would happen next.
Her arms slowly shifted to sit on her lap, face covered by a thick layer of matted, dark hair. She sat up straighter now, her legs together, parting somewhere near the bottom. Her feet shifted to sit in the dark pool, whatever the hell the liquid was had started to lap up at her toes.
Her body shook violently, jerking this way and that in odd motions. Suddenly, her head twisted and contorted violently in a terrifying spasm, crunching and cracking sounds emitting from her neck. And then, her eyes met mine.
Or, at least, what was left of them.
They were sunken and raven-black, an amount of red liquid pouring from them and spilling to the floor. Her nose had gashes across it, and her mouth was dislocated, jaw broken, hanging to the left. Her teeth were either not there or broken in an inconsistent number of ways, some in places where they weren’t normally supposed to be. The blood that poured from the rest of her face was nothing compared to what came from her mouth. The dark red liquid seemed to spill, no evitable ending in sight.
I stood, transfixed in horror. I felt paralyzed – I couldn’t move, I couldn’t speak. All I could do was watch as this girl sat, practically dying in her own fear. She should’ve passed minutes ago due to the amount of blood that she was losing, but it didn’t seem to be the case.
But what happened next was the most terrifying of any experience I had that night.
The closet door beside her swung open and another person stepped out. He wore a pristine, white cotton button-up shirt.
All pristine except for the bloodstain that rode up the front.
He had a hand hidden behind his back. I opened my mouth to speak but he shushed me, putting the other hand up to his mouth as if begging me to not speak. The younger girl on the bed’s ‘eyes’ widened as the man came closer and closer to her. He raised the other hand and I finally saw what he had hidden from me.
A knife, stained in endless amounts of red liquid and flesh.
The knife had lowered right to the top of her head before he stopped himself, letting the blade graze her hair, taking a small strand off of the top of her head. The man plucked it off of the sharp tool and licked it, discarding it to the floor below before he raised the knife again.
This time the girl looked at me, the blood flow no longer from her eyes.
This time, the only liquid on her face was the single tear that fell from her black eye before the knife impaled her, slashing off her jaw, which flew down to my foot before I stepped on it, feeling the broken teeth under my bare skin. I shuddered and kicked it away, watching still in horror as the man stabbed her two more times – the leg and the heart. Her bloodcurdling screams rang through my ears as I watched her body slump down onto the bed, no longer moving, no longer breathing.
Crimson streams spurted from her heart as a few droplets landed on my face. I managed to let out a shriek of fear and sympathy before I fell backwards at the sight of the girl’s death, the nausea that rose in my throat before returning to haunt me.
I shot up from my bed at that point, too terrified to tell anyone. This was the latest recollection of the girl that I saw in my dreams, and it may be hard from some skeptics to believe, but I promise you, this still haunts me to this day. I couldn’t sleep for almost a month after, each night staying up to look up online anyone who ever fit her description. I couldn’t find a single strand of evidence, and thus, I stopped my research.
However, because of my current state that she put me in, I gave the girl a nickname to remember her by in case I ever see her again.
She's Back Edit
The other day, I saw her again. But it wasn't in a nightmare.
She was real.
I was sitting in my bed - it was a really hot summer night, and I can't sleep when it's too hot, so the only thing I could do was preoccupy myself with random thoughts. I fiddled with the blanket I had around me, fluffed the pillow, but nothing would help me fall asleep.
I stared at the door for a while, just out of boredom. But something caught at the left corner of my eye.
Was it the little girl, or was it my imagination?
"Yeah, as if. Of course. It's just my mind playing tricks on me because I'm tired." I whispered to myself, almost hysterically.
The strange thing appeared again, this time in the right corner.
What the hell is it?!
I looked directly at the source of my disturbance, and I stared at it for a few minutes. Hopefully, I'll be able to catch whatever it was that had scared me and fall asleep.
It appeared again, this time in front of my face.
The little girl, her mouth almost completely gone - save for her jaw, hanging by a thin layer of skin, staring into my eyes with her sunken ones.