Closet Horrors

by Bailey Mae

Let me start with, I did not believe in ghosts. I didn't, until about a year and a half ago. The reason why shocked me. I have been haunted, I was last year. I still am. No one knows, and I'm scared. This is what I have decided to share, some days are left out. Almost every day, however, was another horror.

October 8, 2011
Lately I have had some paranormal activity that seems to be centered around me and my bedroom. I have tried everything I can think of to get rid of it, I have read several books about things, and yet nothing I have tried has worked. This is a document of the events I have experienced as of late.
It all started when we moved here, to where I live. (But I ain't gonna say where)
I was sleeping in the car when we drove into town, and my brother woke me up. By the time we arrived at our new house, I was completely awake. As the church members helped us unload our house, I told people to put my boxes in my room and helped them do it. That night, I woke up, struggling for breath like I had just run a long distance. My skin was clammy, but sweat was pouring off my face. I was facing the wall, the way I normally fall asleep, and I heard a door creaking open. I did not recognize the sound then for what it was, and in my mind it was my parents coming to check on me. I turned over and faced nothing. My closet door was open, it was pitch black inside, and my bedroom door was closed. I remembered opening it before I went to bed. I also knew that my closet door had not been open. I watched as something, it was just a black form then, came out of my closet. I was not scared of it, it had nothing evil or malicious about it. It just went from my closet to the side of my bed. It held a hand out, and I kinda still thought it was just a member of my family messing with my head. I reached out and held its hand, and immediately I was in a tree. A big willow tree on the edge of a river.
The form was standing below me, it was crying, and another one came up. The first one backed away, shielding it’s face. It was then I noticed the knife. In a flash the one below me
was stabbed, and the murderer watched the blood leak onto the ground, running in rivulets into the river. It wrapped the victim in black bags and carried it away. Within seconds I was back, holding the hand of a very sad-looking young man. He let go of my hand and turned. I watched in horror as blood dripped to the ground and he returned to the closet. I glanced at my hand and saw blood. The closet door creaked closed and the blood vanished, the door to the hallway opening like it had been before.
I at first dismissed it as a bad dream, and things returned to normal like before the move. A few weeks later, the shadow person visited me again. He woke me by touching my face, and asked one question, before vanishing. “Who did this to me?”
Almost every night he comes, at varying times, sometimes skipping a day or two, then returning with another vision of his death. A young girl has joined him, but she has yet to show me her death. That summer we went to an Indian reservation in New Mexico, and they did not follow me there. I bought a dream catcher, and my dreams are very pleasant before and after the visits, but the time they visit me is filled with questions, confusion, and anger. The anger is not directed at me, but I fear it one day will be. They do not like it when I do not have the answers. I am going to start documenting their visits, telling what I saw and felt, what they did to me. The young girl looks about 5 or 6, she is scared, always looking around and coming out several minutes after the man. She has several bruises and a cut across her cheek. She has no stab wound, but several tears. I fear for my life when they visit, although they have never harmed me. I have become increasingly tired as I get less sleep at night. Just last night they came, at 1 a.m., the girl quietly, the man crying and shielding his face, as if reliving his death.
I am going to start a ghost journal, telling what I see and feel. They always come from my closet. I must go now. I feel a sudden chill, and the heat is on, a line of sweat running down my back. But my arms and legs are cold, and my closet door has opened ever so slightly. If I am not asleep when they come it is worse for me. Goodbye.

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