I am safe to assume that my life is going to end at the hands of these restless spirits. I can hear the pained scratching at my windows and the hollow footsteps upstairs in my dark, cold double story house. They are looking for me, and it is only a matter of time before I am found. I am presently crouched in the corner of the closet connected to my small bedroom. Sweat is dripping off my long blond hair and I am nearly hyperventilating. My hands are clenched into fists, although I am unable to protect myself against the spirits that currently haunt my once safe home.
I can hear the door to the closet opening with a loud moan, and light pours onto my pathetic form. The crimson eyes of a spirit I knew too well looks around searchingly. His eyes then snap toward me, while the corners of his mouth widen to his ears in the most demonic smile I’ve ever seen.
I have a logical theory as to why these spirits want to kill me. In life, these people tormented and bullied me in school. They were all hulking and strong, and they got enjoyment out of seeing my fear. The “leader” of these bullies was named Drake. He had deep crimson eyes and a stare that could cut steel in seconds. He was by far the largest, strongest, and most brutal of them all.
Their deaths were indirectly caused by me challenging them after years of torment. Drake had come to me himself to once again attempt to fight me. But when he swung, I had swung first, hitting him in the jaw and he reeled backwards. Blood splattered in all directions. I then ran away as fast as I could down the street before he could follow.
I found out from a bystander the next day how he and his friends died in horrific detail. My father, who had just been released from jail, had approached Drake and his friends later that day. He had found out about the mistreatment being imposed onto me by them, so he pulled a gun on them and shot each of the four friends. Afterwards, he pulled out a knife and stabbed each one multiple times, killing them slowly. By the end, the vibrant green grass had been stained into crimson blades. The bystander that told me about it had called the police, who had arrested my father and took him back to prison, likely to be given the death penalty.
Instead of haunting my father, the spirits of my enemies decided to haunt me. There have been many occurrences where I knew that the spirits wanted me dead. It started when I saw the bullies in my dreams, with their shoulders held high and blood seeping out of every hole, socket, and pore in their bodies. Their faces were almost purely white, and their clothes were all shades of red, even though I know that their clothes were other colors when they had died.
The next thing the spirits did was to flash for brief periods within my house, mostly in mirrors and water. At first, I thought that it was just me feeling guilt, but when it started happening more and more, I knew that I was just a pawn in the spirits’ deadly game of hide and seek.
I was starting to get jealous of my father because his death will be peaceful and public, while mine will be slow, painful, and private. I began losing weight with each passing day because I was too horrified to eat, and I was getting sick often because I was too terrified to sleep. It was just a few minutes ago that I knew that my time was running low.
The spirit of one of Drake’s friends, Ethan, appeared a few minutes ago. At first, I thought that he would disappear like all the times before. But when he stayed there with his malicious smile from ear to ear, I knew that they were starting to appear. I bolted down my stairs to dark bedroom of my house and hid in the corner of my closet. I soon realized that I should have instead bolted out of the house. I could hear the hollow footsteps of the spirits stomping through my house and the raspy breathing of the two stabbed in the throat.
That is how I got where I am now, sitting in the corner with Drake staring right into my soul. He starts taking slow steps, making sure the whole way that he is smiling his widest and he looks as wicked as possible, with his shoulders up and his eyes as open as he could get them. When he is right in front of me, he stops and stares down at me, silently laughing to himself. Behind him, I could see all of his friends staring in at me in the same demeanor as Drake. I know what happens next, and I don’t want too, because I fainted right then and there. All I can assume is that I was killed by the people that I had led to death myself.