PART 1
Do a dead girl a favor would you?
This is for your own safety, so I suppose you would be doing the both of us a service. Sit where you are, turn off all your coma inducing electronics, and exist in the silence. This will not take long, honest. I do understand the number of withdrawals you will have to fight off without your precious Twitter or Facebook, I understand. Fight those demons as they come but you need to be very attentive during this much appreciated moment of silence.
If at any point during this exercise you notice a rhythmic or repeated sound occurring repeatedly, stop reading immediately and get out of your house. I know, it is your home, this wooden castle is what you work sixty hours a week to afford but this is a warning from a victim.
The noise is how it starts.
This is my story.
When I was sixteen, I began to experience a bizarre phenomenon. This may be an over exaggerated phrasing, but I did die because of it so I think some level of severity is merited. My family, Mom, Dad, and Brother moved into a cookie cutter home surrounded by other cookie cutter homes.
One evening my body wrestled with my mind to ensure that I would not fall asleep peacefully. That single blood riddled wrestling match ended up peaking my senses. I could hear every wicked creak and unsettling pop from the glossed over aged floorboards and the carpeted stairs leading to the heavy oak front door or the unenthusiastic upstairs where we each had our own slowly deteriorating bedrooms. Depends on which way you were going, up or down stairs. Every dull drip from the sink across the hall in my bathroom bellowed though my skull and pinballed inside as if trapped for lack of a place to go.
Somehow through all the random typical house sounds, my ears locked in on a peculiar little thump. It wasn’t odd to hear a thump, small or large, but what made this one special was its repetition. Laying there in my weathered bed, the thumping continued very faintly. Restless and unable to focus myself to sleep, I began counting the seconds between each thump.
Thump, count, thump. Sixteen seconds. There was no deviation in time or severity of the thumping. Count to sixteen and you would get a thump. You could bet your life on it.
Eventually, the counting method worked, and my eyelids weighed themselves down with exhaustion to send me on my way into the vast eternity of dreamland.
I awoke the next morning to the sounds of a bustling house and a fussing father. Apparently, the grass was not cut in the very specific way the homeowners association wanted it and they sent him a fine with a stern warning stating, ‘Until this problem is resolved you will be fined approximately thirty-five dollars a week until the lawn at this address is cut in the proper crisscross pattern per the contract you signed when purchasing this property.’
He said, “Why don’t they just charge us more money each month to live here and higher a landscaping crew to cut all of our lawns? Rebecca Sherman is going to hear about this at the next HOA meeting!”
Stumbling down the stairs while wiping the filth from my eyes and flipping my brown hair to one side attempting to look slightly presentable to the family, there was nothing I could do to hold the chuckles in. Every time my father got worked up, he would turn beat red like his head was the top of a volcano threatening to erupt and destroy everything in its path.
My little brother Jackson was sitting on his knees at the kitchen table. He needed that extra two inches of height to match up to that monstrosity of a table. His cereal bowl had transformed into nothing but off-color milk which he gulped down leaving a ridiculous moustache on his prepubescent face.
It seems the anger meter was not just pegged inside our house as mumbled cursing could be heard coming from the open front door.
Our neighbor, the oldest person I have ever seen in my life, chose to put up light green faux wood shutters flanking all his windows. That was pushing the limits but the whispers around town were ‘Leave it be, old man Jenkins will be dead by Christmas. We just have to wait it out for four more months.’
That being used as evidence, Mr. Jenkins still received a warning letter informing him of the atrocious shutter infraction but allowing him to continue with his stable financials as no fees or fines would be addressed to him due to his ‘significant age’. Yep, they wrote that.
My infuriated father went out to compare letters with old man Jenkins, like men do. They tend to pool together, find the slightest objects of similarity, and complain and threaten the air with raised fists and loud empty voices. This is how things spiral out of control if someone in the group does not sneak in some calm words and reasonable logic.
My mother was in an apron cooking ham and eggs, our Sunday morning tradition. Jackson was given a reprieve from the greasy, textured foods as he suffered from irritable bowel syndrome and would literally crap himself at the first inkling of anything most of us take for granted.
“Naomi, how did you sleep sweet girl?” she spoke.
With a motion of her hand, she offered me eggs and ham to which I nodded in agreement. I wasn’t particularly fond of the traditional breakfast foods, but a tradition is a tradition.
I said, “I slept like a bear during winter, an electric car with no charge, a penis with no blood.”
Messing with my mother by using disgusting or audacious phrasing was my forte. Her face dropped as she peered over at Jackson who was staring inquisitively at me, no doubt wondering why a penis would have blood in it and if it did have blood in it why did that indicate it was awake.
“Don’t be crude Naomi. You’re so silly but sometimes you take it to the limit, you know?” she spoke.
Jackson was looking down the front of his pants as my dad entered the house again, a little less frustrated as the smell of delicious ham and eggs punched him in the face.
He said, “What in the world are you doing Jackson?”
“My wee wee has blood in it or is it empty, I'm so confused,” he said.
My father made an odd face at him and then twisted it to me, he knew me too well. Before we all sat down for breakfast, my father hesitated and froze where he stood. His arms waved, telling us to be quiet. The entire family, the lot of us, froze with him and waited for permission to get back to living and on with our days.
“Did anyone else hear that? That sound?” he spoke.
We all looked at one another and shrugged our shoulders.
He said, “It sounded like a mouse...in the house...or a barking spider!”
Suddenly, the aroma of fresh cooked breakfast was beaten to pulp by the noxious gas of his flatulence. His amusement was the only thing that kept the rest of us from getting angry. He had a way about him that allotted his grotesque actions levity in lieu of lash back.
His mention of a sound reminded me of last night, the first night the thumping started. This brand-new noise was not a fear inducing type of sound, but it did intrigue the senses and warrant further investigation. Every sixteen seconds and I am sixteen, coincidence? Probably but I was an easily bored child and was certainly going to figure out where it was coming from, what it meant, and why it chose to begin after we had lived in that house for over a decade.
We all sat down at the table, Jackson still sitting on his knees, and ate our perfectly prepared breakfast. My mother was the last to eat even though she was the one that prepared the meal. We will have to discuss that later because it should not be like that. Honestly, I don’t think my father even noticed. He was a hardworking man that just went with the flow of life unless the HOA came knocking or started sending letters of noncompliance.
The entire duration of our breakfast sitting, Jackson could be seen glancing down the front of his pants and returning with a wrinkled face trying to figure out things he would learn sooner than later from some random kid at his public school.
“Can I wear my pajamas to school today momma?” he said.
With a light chuckle, my mother shook her head. She was a very loving woman, never letting her stresses or troubles show through her blue eyes. Linda Ericson was the best version of a mom that any child could ever have. She could be waging a war on a barrage of demons in her mind and none of us would ever know.
“No sweetie, jeans and a t-shirt will do just fine for you today,” she said.
Jackson crossed his arms and made his angry face. His eyebrows tucked down to his eyes and his lips pressed outward as if he were about to attempt the most awkward kiss ever.
Before he could submit his rebuttal, I heard the noise. The thumping came to me again. After it went off for the second time I began to count. Sixteen seconds. This thumping continued until my brother and I left the house to walk to school.
Tonight would be the beginning of the search for the thumping. I will not rest until it is discovered and explained to my mind.
This was the beginning of the end, not to be cliche, but it was literally the first step on a paved path to the end of my life.
“Now that you're there, where everything is known, tell me:
What else lived in that house besides us?” ― Anna Akhmatova, The Complete Poems of Anna AkhmatovaJackson and I arrived at the jailhouse style front gate of Yankee Gifted School. Despite the large age gap between myself and my little seven-year-old brother, our school housed all its students from Kindergarten to Senior year of high school. Every single time we turned the corner to face the bland concrete building, Jackson’s hand would lock down on my hand. He had a deep distain for this place, ever since three bullies trapped him in the bathroom and forced him to cry before they would let him out. Each nail dug a deep burrow into the top of my hand. He trembled as if he had found a dead body that had been sweltering in the hot sun for ten days stinking up the area and building a colony of flies. “Calm down Jackson, it’s just school kiddo,” I said. The courtyard contained random students lounging around waiting for the warning bell while being guarded by a few staggered adults. A full-on riot of h
Face to face, woman to woman, I stood in front of Tannell the Terror. Her hair was cut and formed into the typical fifty-year-old bob, low maintenance and out of her face. The Terror’s eyes cut through me like a hot blade through your favorite childhood barbie doll. Their blue was deep and divisive, gave one the feeling that there was more going on behind the scenes then there actually was.She said, “That was a very interesting piece you worked up. Was that the truth or did you take certain liberties with that work?”My nerves had made themselves known in the form of goosebumps and fluttering butterflies in my stomach. I suddenly had the odd feeling that there was something disgusting on my face, like a booger that free fell from my nose to my chin or a ton load of rheum in the corners of my eyes. My self-esteem had dropped to the lowest it could without a full system meltdown, but she needed an answer and there was no reason not to tell her the trut
Jackson met us at the front door of the school, his hair was impersonating an electric shock and his cheeks were bright red. Jennifer and I instantly got the most intense belly laughs. Kindergarten cannot be that rough, can it?“Rough day with the finger paints Jacks?” Jennifer said.He shook his head but maintained a lifeless face free from emotion. His body was warm, and we had a good mile to walk before we would be home. It seemed as if he may have come down with something while swapping germs with the other little booger pickers.I said, “You want a piggyback ride or something? We still must walk home. What happened to you?”It took a good thirty seconds for Jackson to register we were talking to him. His head slowly turned to face me, creepily slow, like how I thought sluggish death worked. He dropped his bookbag and proceeded to stand li
My mother joyfully hummed to herself as she cleaned the dining room and kitchen. Her humming resonated through the house only broken by the clanging of pots and pans as she dismantled the mountain of dishes from the delicious meal she had prepared.Jackson sat in front of the television digesting every bit of comical genius the Simpsons had to offer. His shirt, hell, his entire wardrobe was covered in lasagna stains but that just showed how much he loved it. Every now and then he would impersonate Ralph, the silly kid from the Simpsons, and yell ‘I ate the purple berries!’ in his goofy voice. That was the best.Poor kid had no idea his entire life may depend on Jennifer spending the night. What if an emergency came up and she had to rush home or she fell ill and had to be rushed to the hospital? Judging by the seriousness of the ghost boy voice, I was not willing to test him and his omi
Before grabbing for my cell phone, I stared into Jennifer’s eyes. Her glorious blue eyes had remained dead gray. She seemed alright, but something was off. There was no doubt about it. The sun that used to add sparkles in the light blueness of her eyes now reflected from her dull, dead eyes in search of some sort of excitement.“Jenny bug, how are you feeling? Everything running like normal? You look different, less vibrant than usual,” I said.She chuckled, brushed her mangled hair from her forehead and turned to grab her bottle of water that she always carried with her. As she turned, just the slightest rotation, the side of her neck grabbed my attention like a hot guy slowly climbing out of a swimming pool. My jaw literally sitting on the floor was all she needed to see to cause he
The world around me went dark, deep rich dark. Not a sound could be heard no matter how hard my ears stretch to grasp at any sound near or far. My family and best friend had just been burned to death in a house overtaken by licking flames and heavy smothering smoke. Nothing was left to see, the house rested in a pile of what used to be and in it, my allies rested.The demon boy had vanished from the roof when it collapsed and seemingly decided to rest his case with this nightmare he left me stuck in. I had never experienced screams like those that had come from the inside of that house. The panic on their faces, the pain, agony, it was nauseating.Trapped in that universe of despair had left me still unconscious in the corner of my room with an even tighter grip around the letter opener that I clutched think
Mrs. Tannell worked her way out of my bedroom, reminding me to call her again if I needed anything. She was going to send the Paranormal Specialists over this weekend when my parents went to the Yankee Gifted School football game.That would buy them a three-hour window.As she bounced down the stairs with the youthful exuberance of a teenager, Mrs. Tannell locked eyes with Jennifer and then Jackson. She recoiled ever so slightly as to not frighten anyone. The dual set of gray eyes peered questioningly back at my English teacher. She hugged Jennifer and whispered something in her ear. Next, she high fived Jackson and carefully examined him, careful not to draw attention but she did note the offset his tongue now had. Shivering and in pain, I took my slumber on the cold concrete floor of the garage. For some reason, the demon boy did not pursue me down here. All night long I awoke every few minutes to hear the same thumping that started all of this. It was far quieter than when I was in my room, but the noise was still present.There was not a peep from any of my family or Jennifer through the night. I had no idea what was happening inside the house or how I would explain myself if someone were to find me sleeping on the garage floor.As the sun rose, I stood tall and straight. Every bone in my body seemed to crack at once. An orchestra of pops and cracks bounced off the garage walls and back to my ears. Walking like an old woman with arthritis, I grabbed the door hHaunting Naomi Chapter 9
Todd was back amongst the living, standing with Jennifer and Jackson, as all three of them stared at me with the fire of one thousand suns. I am certain that not one of them had any idea why I was motivated to trade my life for Todd’s but it was not their concern. The main concern now was to stay alive just long enough to eliminate Mrs. Tannell and destroy the portal to hell that resided in her living room. Through all of this, the killing, the death, the pain, the suffering, it had come to me out of the blue that Mrs. Tannell must be provoking these attacks, especially if she knew I had killed Sarah Macly, her lone granddaughter, she would have all the motivation in the world to make my life a living hell. The end was drawing near, not only for me, but for Mrs. Tannell as well. It was time to end this, once and for all. On
Todd, the backbone of our alliance, the mini one and the real one, was now lying on his back showing no signs of life at all. His eyes rested still and gray. They were wide open, as stoic as they had ever been in his entire life. His stomach stopped rising with life, he was not breathing at all now. Death had one hand around him, holding on for his dear life, waiting to take his soul away into the ether, never to be seen again. In your last moments, death has a way of making you look as peaceful and calm as you have ever been before. It is the darndest thing, being in the worst position of your life, your soul is floating away, and the lights are beginning to dim, you are dying but from the outside, you look as calm, cool, and collected as you have ever in the history of your breathing days. This generally applies to any and all deaths, except for the horrified ones. Those will make you sick to your stomach. Jesus Christ hims
Todd was in very severe pain, whatever was attacking him was clearly making sure this event was filled with pure pain and horrific suffering. With his pant leg ripped from its seam, Todd’s burn wound throbbed and pulsed with an alerting rhythm. His body was being manipulated by something, some sort of demon that we could not put our eyes on. This put the three of us at a severe disadvantage. It had become very obvious that we needed to act fast, but we had to act efficiently. Flying off the hinges would almost certainly result in a catastrophic failure, that was absolutely unacceptable. All we came here to do was secure demon Sarah where no one would think to find her and we ended up being attacked by an old demon woman, demon wolves, a huge mimicking demon, and I killed a man. This could not have gone any worse, except for some sort of death on our end. Now was not the time for reflection though, Todd needed us, and it was looking
Todd, with his leg wound, would have to wait just a bit longer while we investigated what we thought was the man I killed as he ran into the light. Obviously, if I killed him, he would not be able to make moaning noises or anything like that, so it was fairly easy to discern that the dead man had been turned into a demon and he would certainly be looking for some sweet, delicious revenge. I mean, who would be alright with getting killed out of the blue? Jennifer and Jackson had taken the lead as I made a fine attempt at catching up to them as we headed towards the corner of the abandoned K-Mart. The moaning was like a mating call, this was not the typical ‘I am in pain’ moan. It resonated incessantly, calling us to come and see what was happening. Judging by previous experience, I had no clue about what may be around the corner, all I knew was that we were walking towards danger, and we had to be ready. I said, “Slow down, guys. Le
I could not hold my curiosity back from taking a peek at the filthy, old three-ringed binder. I sincerely wish I had; I was not in the right mental space to read what I had just read. Gaining the knowledge that was hidden away inside of that binder was more of a curse than it was a blessing. The way I thought about life, in general, changed dramatically from that point on, nothing would ever be the same again. Written in ink on a hardened piece of lined notebook paper, I read the following: ‘Today, September 23rd, 1976, I met a few young women that claimed they had been in an accident. Linda Ericson, approximately eighteen years old, Sandra Tannell, approximately twenty-four years old, and Wanda Williams, approximately twenty-eight years old, were in the old Sander’s coffee shop talking amongst themselves. I was studying up on my favorite subject, which will remain nameless because it is so obvious, especially if someone other than m
The slaughtered body of the homeless drug addict that I split in two with a hellacious laser beam from my inscripted hand before we entered the darkness had disappeared. It was clearly splayed out for all to see and showed no obvious logical signs of going anywhere anytime soon. How it had magically disappeared was beyond me, there was not even a sign of blood or fragments of flesh lying about. It truly baffled my mind as to how a body that had been split into two distinct halves could have disappeared along with all the splattered pieces that went along with it. We had finally broken free from the darkness of the abandoned, decrepit K-Mart and had made our way into the light of the outside world. Todd’s van was still where we had left it, everything was still in place just as it was before we entered the darkness to save Todd and defeat the Haunting Naomi
There is a time that comes in every single person’s life, no one is immune from it, that you see someone you love as the worst being on the face of the planet. It happens to all of us, it does not last long, but it does happen. None of us want this to happen, who wants to hate someone they love so dearly? At this moment in time, after what Jackson did, after I tell you what he did, you will understand how I had this feeling.It all happened so fast, to be honest. There was no time for any of us to respond to what he thought was the right thing to do. Telling the story now, even as dead as I am, my heart still hurts from that moment. More than how horrible I felt when I found out my mom hit a child with a car, killed him, and left the scene. It is the worst I have ever felt. Jackson made a decision and performed an action, he was scared, and he acted out, it was a mistake, but he did not see it as that in the heat of the moChapter 151
The giant wolf had been struck one time by the now deceased mimicking demon that had taken Todd into the darkness of the abandoned K-Mart. Shining the spotlight on the wolf’s body, the attack by the demon had contacted its torso. Ribs and blood, internal organs and shredded flash all filled my line of sight when inspecting the giant wolf that had saved the day and eliminated the mimicking demon. As usual, our mission’s objective had been modified on the fly. We had to get to Todd, he was hunched over in the corner, we were still not sure if he was alright or if he was in need of some rejuvenation. Now, I felt we were obligated to take care of the giant wolf, the one that formerly was possessed and under control of demon Mrs. Williams. It was the least we could do considering the fact that the wolf had single handedly taken care of the demon and saved us a lot of heartache and potential damages. I said, “Jennifer, go to Todd. Make s
Navigating as effectively and efficiently around the poor homeless man that I had just split in half after he came running out of the darkness, the three of us walked briskly into the abandoned K-Mart ready for a fight to save Todd. On my way in, I snatched up the spotlight and made sure it illuminated every square inch of real estate in front of us, ensuring our path was clear or we would be able to see anything dangerous in our way so that we could work our way around it. Shining the light back and forth, covering my two counterparts from any attacks from drunks or druggies, we pushed in as fast as possible without risking any chance of injury or worse. Jennifer and Jackson led the charge, side by side, ready to get into the action and accomplish our goal of getting Todd back in one piece. I took up the rear, providing the light needed and also making sure nothing snuck up behind us as the darkness chased behind our feet. In the distance, as we ru