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Every time I return to my home I take a long route that bends around half of the neighbourhood instead of the straight road back. If you drive along the straight road, you'll notice a small house with only one floor. It's wooden walls are run down beyond repair, yet it managed to hold itself for decades. Ask around, and most of them will tell you tales of ghosts, spirits, missing children and how all misfortune in the area is related to the haunted shack, but none of them will tell you what happened in it, for it dooms everyone that enters. But I know of someone that has came back from the shack and described what was in it. No one except me knows about this. Soon you'll know too…
It all started when X was playing football with his friends. One of his friends accidentally gave the ball a flying kick and the ball torpedoed past the fencings of a shabby house. The ball rolled through the open door and into the shack. This friend of his was very responsible, but he was also very cowardly. Knowing this, X decided to give his friend some help and volunteered to go into the scary-looking house.
They crept in it together, and finally spotted the football. The house wasn't big; it only had a living room and nothing else. There was very few furniture, but it was hard to look around because there is only a faint presence of light emitting from the ceiling. X immediately felt that something wasn't right about this place; it made me tremble in fear. Apparently X's friend also sensed something, because he snatched the ball quickly from the end of the room and they made a bolt for the door. To our surprise, the door was closed, and on further attempts to open it, they found out that it was locked without any visible mechanisms.
Suddenly, X heard a clang; I looked around and saw that the faint light on the ceiling had moved to the floor, right on top of a ornamental table. Warily, I stepped towards the glowing item. He felt suspicious because my friend had not heard anything, and was banging away at the door which held itself. I saw that the glowing object was a knife. A voice spoke in my mind: kill him. Kill him. Do it and you'll be free. With a shaking hand, I took the knife subconsciously, and crept behind my unsuspecting friend. No, stop, don't do this, stop! Do not listen the the voice! Kill him… do it. He's right in front of you. NO! X managed to restrain myself, and the knife dropped on the floor with a loud clang. My friend turned around, shocked.
This time, I did not hesitate… and drove the possessed blade through his heart.
The door opened; my friend's lifeless body disappeared. I pretended that I did not know what had happened. Many lies were made.
From then on, every time I return to my home I take a long route that bends around half of the neighbourhood instead of the straight road back. If you drive along the straight road, you'll notice a small house with only one floor. It's wooden walls are run down beyond repair, yet it managed to hold itself for decades. Ask around, and most of them will tell you the tale of a missing child that started it all. But now you know all about it. It was me.
[ ] years later
It all started when X was playing football with his friends. One of his friends accidentally gave the ball a flying kick and the ball torpedoed past the fencings of a shabby house. The ball rolled through the open door and into the shack. This friend of his was very responsible, but he was also very cowardly. Knowing this, X decided to give his friend some help and volunteered to go into the scary-looking house.
They crept in it together, and finally spotted the football. The house wasn't big; it only had a living room and nothing else. There was very few furniture, but it was hard to look around because there is only a faint presence of light emitting from the ceiling. X immediately felt that something wasn't right about this place; it made me tremble in fear. Apparently X's friend also sensed something, because he snatched the ball quickly from the end of the room and they made a bolt for the door. To our surprise, the door was closed, and on further attempts to open it, they found out that it was locked without any visible mechanisms.
Suddenly, X heard a clang; I looked around and saw that the faint light on the ceiling had moved to the floor, right on top of a ornamental table. Warily, I stepped towards the glowing item. He felt suspicious because my friend had not heard anything, and was banging away at the door which held itself. I saw that the glowing object was a knife. A voice spoke in my mind: kill him. Kill him. Do it and you'll be free. With a shaking hand, I took the knife subconsciously, and crept behind my unsuspecting friend. No, stop, don't do this, stop! Do not listen the the voice! Kill him… do it. He's right in front of you. NO! X managed to restrain myself, and the knife dropped on the floor with a loud clang. My friend turned around, shocked.
This time, I did not hesitate… and drove the possessed blade through his heart.
The door opened; my friend's lifeless body disappeared. I pretended that I did not know what had happened. Many lies were made.
From then on, every time I return to my home I take a long route that bends around half of the neighbourhood instead of the straight road back. If you drive along the straight road, you'll notice a small house with only one floor. It's wooden walls are run down beyond repair, yet it managed to hold itself for decades. Ask around, and most of them will tell you the tale of a missing child that started it all. But now you know all about it. It was me.
[ ] years later
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