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Margaret - Malvern, Iowa - December 30, 2009 9:45 PM
Me and my family had just visited my mother's friends house and were
arriving at our own house. My house is not the best. It was built in 1910,
and the previous owners lost it in forecloser. A year after they left one of
the pipes from the bathroom ruptured and flooded the stairway and two of the
rooms on the first floor. I entered with my mother and brother, happy to be
home, though I couldn't shake the feeling of having someone or something
following me throughout the halls.
That night, I slept comfortably in the master bedroom, dreaming of the
Christmas past. Suddenly I was pushed off of my bed. I rubbed my head,
hurting it in the whole process, and pulled myself back into bed only to be
shoved down again and again. I laid motionless on my floor, fearing of what
might be lurking in my room. Suddenly I was pulled into my open closet by my
wrist. The pain from invisible finger nails piercing into my skin was
unbearable. I was practically screaming my lungs out! Inside the closet the
light turned on, but not by me, and I was scratched on my legs, arms, but
mostly my face. The next morning my mom found a murmuring bundle of bloody
flesh she called her daughter.
