robotic
07-01-2004, 06:56 AM
i'm not very good at descriptions and stories T-T!
i wrote this a few weeks ago. the conclusion is a bit strange, but i was hoping to add a bit of a dramatic touch at the end. i think i could label it as a 'true' story because although i've never visited this particular house, some of the incidents and events described are what happened to my mother and her family several years ago in the early 60s.
(sorry for grammatical mistakes)
SUPERNATURAL
I tightened my group on the handlebar, whilst I tried to speed up past that house near the end of the deserted alley, several miles from any other dwelling or inhabitance. But everytime I tried to peddle, harder, trying to surpass the resistance the wind had against me - my legs grew weaker and my arms, numb. I tried to catch a glimpse of the mysterious hover of fog that surrounded that house, from the corner of my eye, as my mind seemed to conjure up images from the stories I had heard. It was petrifying. I held my chest, feeling my heart beat echo through my body and the blood, although warm, made the veins in my body freeze.
I closed my eyes for a brief second and tried to remember what had brought me here. I couldn't remember.
I decided to padlock my bicycle around an old willow tree that stood next to the house, withered and dry but reeking of an unforgettable undisclosed history that only it had been a witness to. I got off, slowly, and stuffed my hands into my pocket. I glanced at my watch and shifted my eyes to focus on the house. Its roof was caved in, from the rainwater which rested upon each side, rippling because of the creaking, rusty metal of the pipes yet gently glinting, reflecting the setting sun. At the thought, I suddenly looked up at the sky, an array and assortment of colours merged together, creating a despondent atmosphere. Although I tried to grasp the beauty and stillness that surrounded me, my mind was racing with disbelief and fear. I was standing, so cold I was slouching, in a dark, deserted alleyway infront of a mystifying, old house. The reality struck me hard. No matter what I did, I could not escape.
Taking a step towards the gate that seperated me and the house: I felt like I was entering a portal, a gateway to another world, enclosed in the past. I was the future, but not one too bright that could defeat and lavish the dark writhing, breathing and living inside. My converse splashed in a dirty pool of water and I nearly stumbled forward, hitting the rail infront. I regained my balance and advanced towards the gate.
Just a second before my foot entered the old mystery I was willing to find out about, I stopped.
It was like time had frozen. I suddenly had a bad feeling about what would happen and what I was going to do if it did, that I thought about looking and going back, never to see this place again.
"Some mysteries are best undiscovered." I comforted and drew myself away from my curiosity.
Suddenly, an eerie noise rose up from within, growing louder and louder - and an owl fluttered out, princing forward towards my face with its claws outstretched - without a second glance or thought if it was a vision of disorientation or simply an illusion, I ran towards my bicycle, broke the padlock and stumbled on, starting to peddle in the opposite direction, not daring to look back.
After half-an-hour, I reached home. During the journey, I was juxtaposed in thought: Where did the owl come from? Why did I get so startled? Maybe it's intention was not to startle, or attack me. What...was I thinking? How was I so sure? I was so close to accomplish what I had sought out for, and blown my only chance!
My cousin was waiting outside our villa's veranda, disappointed that I was late - I had promised a football match which I had completely forgotten about.
"I'm sorry," I apologized. "....I got caught up with something." I finished, reluctantly.
"Caught up with what?" She asked questioningly.
"I was running an errand for mother, you know, because she wanted me to...quite a few days ago..and I didn't...so I thought maybe.. and then....then just as I was coming back.... I found...I mean I decided to....to see that.. house....." I said, quickly.
"What house?...." She asked, her eyebrows raised.
"The one on Belwitch street," I looked at my feet, not paying attention. "The one you visited several years before."
"....Does it still exist?" She asked, her face, expressionless.
"Yes, yes, that one, it does." I carefully pronounced the words.Then I looked away from her.
"Why did you go there?" She looked at me again.
"I wanted to know if the rumours were true."
She looked past me, completely lost in thought. Her eyes were transfixed.
"They are."
"What happened seventeen years ago..... was a horror. It was terrible."
I sat down on the pavement next to her, resting my hands on my knees in anticipation.
She began.
"My mother lived there in 1972. The same year her father died. She was born there, and lived there with her mother. There were things that just went on there - visions, sounds, voices, unexplainable incidents. Most, or rather, the people who knew the place, said there was a presence of the paranormal. It was believeable, because the house was so old. I would say it had been probably around there for a hundred years or more. Everything seemed to go wrong. Mom's cousin, her brother and her mother had come to stay. It was a spectacular place, as I quote her saying, the type of place that you only seen in dreams, the type of place everyone, who could, would want to live in. They had two huge gardens at the back, the flowerbeds covered with every type of flower imaginable. Isn't that something everybody wants, a dream house? But then, no one knew it's dark secret. No one. No one did. They stayed for one night - but vowed never to stay again. The horror was unleashed that night - as they slept, oblivious of their surroundings, in the courtyard. As her brother, who was three at the time, was sleeping peacefully, an invisible force drew him out of his bed. It dragged him (he still slept, unaware) to the far side of the house and knocked him against the barrier wall until he bled, out of his head, out of his ears, then his mouth. His entire tiny body drowned in blood. And he died. Before anybody found out. The doctors, the police - no one could explain what happened to him, but they still took the maid and several people working in the house into custody. Because they suspected them. Could you believe it? What a reason. Freakin' idiots. No wonder they do nothing for this country.
This was just one incident. Several things happened, and they kept on happening. happening, all the time. There would be knocks on the door, the sound of someone bouncing a ball against a wall - but no one was there. Everyone living there soon grew afraid of their own shadow. What was wrong, no one could understand. The servant would come running to the dinnertable even though no one had called him, the taps would start running without the touch of a human hand. There was a room, also, where there were numbers scrawled and scratched into the plaster of the wall - it made it more easier to understand the supernatural events, this was previously used by the supersitious to call on spirits. Or believed to be, at least. Why, I don't know."
I looked at her, after she finished, astonished.
"I don't think I want to go there.... near...there ever again." I finally said.
She said something that bewildered me for a minute, as it seemed she either could not hear me, or had completely ignored what I said.
"Don't you understand what's wrong, Laila?" She asked me.
"What do you mean?" I looked at her closely. "What are you talking about?"
"The spirits are still calling"
"....What?"
She then bent over, and hissed in my ear.
"They call YOU"
i wrote this a few weeks ago. the conclusion is a bit strange, but i was hoping to add a bit of a dramatic touch at the end. i think i could label it as a 'true' story because although i've never visited this particular house, some of the incidents and events described are what happened to my mother and her family several years ago in the early 60s.
(sorry for grammatical mistakes)
SUPERNATURAL
I tightened my group on the handlebar, whilst I tried to speed up past that house near the end of the deserted alley, several miles from any other dwelling or inhabitance. But everytime I tried to peddle, harder, trying to surpass the resistance the wind had against me - my legs grew weaker and my arms, numb. I tried to catch a glimpse of the mysterious hover of fog that surrounded that house, from the corner of my eye, as my mind seemed to conjure up images from the stories I had heard. It was petrifying. I held my chest, feeling my heart beat echo through my body and the blood, although warm, made the veins in my body freeze.
I closed my eyes for a brief second and tried to remember what had brought me here. I couldn't remember.
I decided to padlock my bicycle around an old willow tree that stood next to the house, withered and dry but reeking of an unforgettable undisclosed history that only it had been a witness to. I got off, slowly, and stuffed my hands into my pocket. I glanced at my watch and shifted my eyes to focus on the house. Its roof was caved in, from the rainwater which rested upon each side, rippling because of the creaking, rusty metal of the pipes yet gently glinting, reflecting the setting sun. At the thought, I suddenly looked up at the sky, an array and assortment of colours merged together, creating a despondent atmosphere. Although I tried to grasp the beauty and stillness that surrounded me, my mind was racing with disbelief and fear. I was standing, so cold I was slouching, in a dark, deserted alleyway infront of a mystifying, old house. The reality struck me hard. No matter what I did, I could not escape.
Taking a step towards the gate that seperated me and the house: I felt like I was entering a portal, a gateway to another world, enclosed in the past. I was the future, but not one too bright that could defeat and lavish the dark writhing, breathing and living inside. My converse splashed in a dirty pool of water and I nearly stumbled forward, hitting the rail infront. I regained my balance and advanced towards the gate.
Just a second before my foot entered the old mystery I was willing to find out about, I stopped.
It was like time had frozen. I suddenly had a bad feeling about what would happen and what I was going to do if it did, that I thought about looking and going back, never to see this place again.
"Some mysteries are best undiscovered." I comforted and drew myself away from my curiosity.
Suddenly, an eerie noise rose up from within, growing louder and louder - and an owl fluttered out, princing forward towards my face with its claws outstretched - without a second glance or thought if it was a vision of disorientation or simply an illusion, I ran towards my bicycle, broke the padlock and stumbled on, starting to peddle in the opposite direction, not daring to look back.
After half-an-hour, I reached home. During the journey, I was juxtaposed in thought: Where did the owl come from? Why did I get so startled? Maybe it's intention was not to startle, or attack me. What...was I thinking? How was I so sure? I was so close to accomplish what I had sought out for, and blown my only chance!
My cousin was waiting outside our villa's veranda, disappointed that I was late - I had promised a football match which I had completely forgotten about.
"I'm sorry," I apologized. "....I got caught up with something." I finished, reluctantly.
"Caught up with what?" She asked questioningly.
"I was running an errand for mother, you know, because she wanted me to...quite a few days ago..and I didn't...so I thought maybe.. and then....then just as I was coming back.... I found...I mean I decided to....to see that.. house....." I said, quickly.
"What house?...." She asked, her eyebrows raised.
"The one on Belwitch street," I looked at my feet, not paying attention. "The one you visited several years before."
"....Does it still exist?" She asked, her face, expressionless.
"Yes, yes, that one, it does." I carefully pronounced the words.Then I looked away from her.
"Why did you go there?" She looked at me again.
"I wanted to know if the rumours were true."
She looked past me, completely lost in thought. Her eyes were transfixed.
"They are."
"What happened seventeen years ago..... was a horror. It was terrible."
I sat down on the pavement next to her, resting my hands on my knees in anticipation.
She began.
"My mother lived there in 1972. The same year her father died. She was born there, and lived there with her mother. There were things that just went on there - visions, sounds, voices, unexplainable incidents. Most, or rather, the people who knew the place, said there was a presence of the paranormal. It was believeable, because the house was so old. I would say it had been probably around there for a hundred years or more. Everything seemed to go wrong. Mom's cousin, her brother and her mother had come to stay. It was a spectacular place, as I quote her saying, the type of place that you only seen in dreams, the type of place everyone, who could, would want to live in. They had two huge gardens at the back, the flowerbeds covered with every type of flower imaginable. Isn't that something everybody wants, a dream house? But then, no one knew it's dark secret. No one. No one did. They stayed for one night - but vowed never to stay again. The horror was unleashed that night - as they slept, oblivious of their surroundings, in the courtyard. As her brother, who was three at the time, was sleeping peacefully, an invisible force drew him out of his bed. It dragged him (he still slept, unaware) to the far side of the house and knocked him against the barrier wall until he bled, out of his head, out of his ears, then his mouth. His entire tiny body drowned in blood. And he died. Before anybody found out. The doctors, the police - no one could explain what happened to him, but they still took the maid and several people working in the house into custody. Because they suspected them. Could you believe it? What a reason. Freakin' idiots. No wonder they do nothing for this country.
This was just one incident. Several things happened, and they kept on happening. happening, all the time. There would be knocks on the door, the sound of someone bouncing a ball against a wall - but no one was there. Everyone living there soon grew afraid of their own shadow. What was wrong, no one could understand. The servant would come running to the dinnertable even though no one had called him, the taps would start running without the touch of a human hand. There was a room, also, where there were numbers scrawled and scratched into the plaster of the wall - it made it more easier to understand the supernatural events, this was previously used by the supersitious to call on spirits. Or believed to be, at least. Why, I don't know."
I looked at her, after she finished, astonished.
"I don't think I want to go there.... near...there ever again." I finally said.
She said something that bewildered me for a minute, as it seemed she either could not hear me, or had completely ignored what I said.
"Don't you understand what's wrong, Laila?" She asked me.
"What do you mean?" I looked at her closely. "What are you talking about?"
"The spirits are still calling"
"....What?"
She then bent over, and hissed in my ear.
"They call YOU"