Anna Shafer firstname.lastname@example.org
Sun, Oct 26, 2008 at 3:13 PM
Things that shouldn't be here.
I've lived in my house in southeastern Pennsylvania for 18 years now, and things have never been quite right. Yet, this house has been in my family for over a hundred years, and before then, nothing was here but woodland. I've researched every person who has ever lived here, and frankly, my house's history is boring; no suicides or murders, no great tragedy, the worse thing that ever happened here was a man was trampled by a horse in the fields, before the property was divided and sold off, and that didn't even happen near where my current house is today. So, for the most part, nothing should be in my house, certainly nothing with sinister intent.
But, there is something here, and to explain it I have to start from the beginning. I was three years old when it started, I can't remember any of it, but my mom likes to tell me stories of when I was little. At this time and up until I was around 6 or 7 years old, I shared a room with my sister who was five years older and thusly ruled the roost in our little bed room, and I followed her in everything she did like little sisters do. One day, she decided to explore the crawlspace that runs across the front of our house, and pretending to be Nancy Drew, I followed her. All I know is what my mom recounted afterward, which is that me and my sister ran screaming out of the house and refused to enter again until our dad came out, the whole time we were babbling about trolls and goblins with dripping teeth and red eyes. My dad came home and all our talk ended; however, the problems were only just beginning.
My sister and I had unwittingly stirred up something, whatever we had described as fairytale villains, and it was no longer satisfied with it's small living space at the front of the house. In the early years, after we convinced our father to move a dresser in front of the crawlspace door, as my sister and I would curl up to sleep in our rooms, screeching, knocking and banging sounds would come from the crawlspace, and many a time my parents would storm in, convinced we were out of bed and up to mischief, only to find us both asleep, or wide awake hiding under the covers.
I remember clearly the year I was 7, after we had put an addition on the back of my house and my sister had moved into my parent's old bedroom. We had been gone for a week, on a trip up the New England coast, and when we came home the house was quiet and, it seemed, everything was as we had left it. Until my dad and I went up to my room so he could help me to unpack. The dresser that had been keeping the 'monsters' secured had been upended, the crawlspace door was wide upon, and a tornado had apparently ripped through my room, but left the rest of my house intact.
Since then though, my house has been relatively quiet, whatever else is here with us seems happy enough with a scare every now and again and a larger haunting area. I've seen them again a few times, and they look exactly like a fairytale goblin, with shining red eyes; they look... disgusting. And they are fast, especially when you're trying to take a picture of them. I've only once succeeded in capturing on on film, but of course, the next day my camera was found with the back cracked open and the film fully exposed to sunlight.
Over time, I've decided to leave well enough alone, whatever they are, they are capable of much worse deeds, and we're lucky they don't choose to do anything more sinister then scamper around the house at night, tripping the unwary bathroom traveler and scaring my cats into climbing the curtains.
Despite their appearance, I wouldn't call these things demons because they aren't necessarily evil. And though they are hard to get used to living with, it is possible. They've never really hurt anyone. The thing that bothers me most is that I don't know what they are, or why they are here.