A Personal Experience By Ethan
My family bought a new house on a quiet little street called Manor Walk. There were only a few houses on that street, but we loved the house. Well, my parents did; I felt like it had a bad vibe, almost evil.
At nine one night, I decided to go to bed after a hard day at school. Once I was in bed, our dog Mystery was running about outside my room. I frowned and yelled at him, but the shouted accusations left my mind immediately when I heard the scratching sounds in my room, because the door was shut. I heard someone scratching at the door viciously. Then I knew, for a fact, that something was up with this house.
Two days later, I was watching TV in the living room on my own. The TV suddenly turned off by itself. I thought it was just the power, because it was an old house, so I knelt down in front of the screen and reached around for the plug. I was forced to stare at the TV as I reached around, and in the reflection it looked like behind the chair I was sitting on, a Victorian-looking women, blurry but still visible, sat. Her head was tilted to the left. I looked behind me and there was nothing there, and then I felt a strong breeze of cold air wash over my face. Since I was so creeped out about the house, I decided to take a break, and went to live with my Grandmother for a week.
Returning home, I unpacked my things and sat down to watch TV, completely forgetting what previously happened to me. I turned on the news, and my house was on it. The reporters were saying that my family was brutally murdered with a Victorian bread knife, and they were stuffed in the attic.
I was freaking out bigtime, praying it wasn't real. I ran to the drop-down ladder of the attic and climbed up inside. It was pitch black, so I used my phone to light up the place. On the floor were my parents, my little sister and my dog. I almost threw up.
I was crying hysterically and ran to the TV again. The reporters had done some research on the house, and said that a woman named Doris Crossberg lived there, and after she went psycho, she killed her family. The TV turned off, and in the reflection the woman was behind me again, holding up a bread knife.
The neighbor heard me cry and ran into the house, forcing the image to disappear.
If that hadn't happened, I probably wouldn't be here today. Doris wanted me dead.
My family bought a new house on a quiet little street called Manor Walk. There were only a few houses on that street, but we loved the house. Well, my parents did; I felt like it had a bad vibe, almost evil.
At nine one night, I decided to go to bed after a hard day at school. Once I was in bed, our dog Mystery was running about outside my room. I frowned and yelled at him, but the shouted accusations left my mind immediately when I heard the scratching sounds in my room, because the door was shut. I heard someone scratching at the door viciously. Then I knew, for a fact, that something was up with this house.
Two days later, I was watching TV in the living room on my own. The TV suddenly turned off by itself. I thought it was just the power, because it was an old house, so I knelt down in front of the screen and reached around for the plug. I was forced to stare at the TV as I reached around, and in the reflection it looked like behind the chair I was sitting on, a Victorian-looking women, blurry but still visible, sat. Her head was tilted to the left. I looked behind me and there was nothing there, and then I felt a strong breeze of cold air wash over my face. Since I was so creeped out about the house, I decided to take a break, and went to live with my Grandmother for a week.
Returning home, I unpacked my things and sat down to watch TV, completely forgetting what previously happened to me. I turned on the news, and my house was on it. The reporters were saying that my family was brutally murdered with a Victorian bread knife, and they were stuffed in the attic.
I was freaking out bigtime, praying it wasn't real. I ran to the drop-down ladder of the attic and climbed up inside. It was pitch black, so I used my phone to light up the place. On the floor were my parents, my little sister and my dog. I almost threw up.
I was crying hysterically and ran to the TV again. The reporters had done some research on the house, and said that a woman named Doris Crossberg lived there, and after she went psycho, she killed her family. The TV turned off, and in the reflection the woman was behind me again, holding up a bread knife.
The neighbor heard me cry and ran into the house, forcing the image to disappear.
If that hadn't happened, I probably wouldn't be here today. Doris wanted me dead.
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