HaunterA Chapter by InsanityWriter Death and reawakened insanity, haunting memories enter. I am so paranoid. I always feel like there’s something there. Watching me, following me. It’s always there. I don’t know what it is, but it scares me. I feel... I feel like whatever it is, is coming for me, and each passing second it comes closer, and closer.
My name is Amanda. I guess I’m a pretty normal person, aside from the fact that I was adopted, but I’m still pretty average. I’m 5’5, shoe size 8 ½, with black hair and brown eyes. If you ask any of my friends to describe me, you’ll probably hear something like this: “nice,” “a bit paranoid,” “quiet,” “arachnophobic,” “reads a lot,” and “is scared of practically anything,” to name a few.
Yeah, I guess it is true, I’ll jump at the slightest odd sound, and any dark corner I fear to be the first to go around. But everybody has their fears, yes, some more than others and my friends are actually quite understanding. Sure, they’ll tease me about it later, but when they’re in the moment too, they’re usually scared as well!
My life. Everything was perfectly fine. Everything was normal. Until that day.
“Amanda? Could we talk to you please?” “Sure mom. What is it?” My parents look really nervous. I just hope I’m not in trouble. “Amanda, I don’t really know how to say this, but, well, do you remember Jeanie?” Who? “Jeanie? Who’s that?” “When you were little, you told us you had an invisible friend named ‘Jeanie,’ but Jeanie was actually your little sister, who died in the fire that killed your family, she was your twin, and well... She was the one who caused it. The fire.” “What? Why? Why are you telling me this now?” “We-we wanted to wait until you could handle this information... And-and, we were going to tell you sooner, but, we, um, we sort of forgot, and we remembered when we were looking through some old files last night, and then we realized we hadn’t told you.” I stare at them. Well that explains a lot. And why exactly do I need to know this? “Well,” I start, “Why’d she start the fire? Do they know? Was it an accident?” My parents shift uncomfortably, I can tell they regret bringing this up, but now they have to finish it. “No, it wasn’t an accident. The police said that is was deliberate, the fire. And your sister, well, she wasn’t really right in her mind.” My heart sinks. Great. I had an insane sister. Why do I need to know this?? I’m going to have nightmares. Just wonderful. “We just wanted you to know. You had suffered from a concussion when you were rescued from the fire, and you couldn’t remember anything. So when we found this out, we hoped maybe you might remember something. You always asked so many questions about your past, we wanted to give you answers.” Yeah, and telling me about a dead little sister of mine is really going to trigger happy memories won’t it. Adding on of course, that she was insane and obviously tried to kill me, along with our family, with a fire when we were little. Lovely. “Okay, well, thanks.” Now ensues the awkward pause. “Well, I’m going to go finish my homework and go to bed. ‘Night!” “Goodnight.” My parents chorus together. I have a feeling they’re going to talk about me when I’m upstairs. I can’t sleep. I had an insane twin sister who tried to burn our family alive. What a pleasant thought. Not. I wonder, what did I do? What happened? Great, now I’m curious. Hmm... Jeanie. Yes, that name does sound familiar now...
The next day I wake up, and go through my normal, school-day routine. But there is still this ever-haunting feeling from the night before. As I wave to my friends as I get onto the bus, the good-luck charms on my wrist jingled loudly, though only I can hear them above the noise of talking on the bus. I always wear these charms on my bracelet, which I wear everywhere. Then I have other ‘lucky’ things on my bag. Yes, I am a bit superstitious, but I can never seem to shake this uneasy feeling I have. These charms make me at least feel safe, though only by a little. Jeanie won’t get out of my head. I keep thinking of her, and I don’t know if it was my imagination or not, but as I sit on my bed at home that night, I hear a woman’s voice in my head calling “Amanda! Jeanie! Come inside for dinner!” Well that was odd... A memory perhaps? Or just my imagination? But then why do I feel like laughing? Not a happy laugh though. A hysterical laugh. I’m scared.
As days go by, people start noticing. “Amanda, you look pale.” “Amanda, are you getting enough sleep?” “Amanda, are you feeling well?” “Amanda.” “Amanda!” “Amanda?” The voices turn from caring and kind to evil and nightmarish sounding. My mind burns. “Mom? I feel really bad. Could I please stay home today?” “Are you sick?” “I think so.” My mother comes into my room. “You look so pale!” She says. “I really need some rest mom. Please let me stay home. Just today.” “Alright, but I expect you to rest. No phone. No computer. Sleep.” “Yes mom.” She leaves for work and I gladly close my eyes. But the darkness preludes a nightmare.
Fire. Raging fire. Hot and burning. High, innocent, insane laughter. “Jeanie! Amanda! Jeanie!” Screams.
I wake up sweating, I feel like I had just been among those scorching flames. I sit up. My face feels like it is burning up. Great. I probably have a fever now. My room is dim, the shades and curtains to the windows are closed and the lights are off. I cautiously walk over to the light switch and flip it on, half expecting something to jump out at me. I feel dizzy after standing up so quickly and begin to walk back over to my bed. All of a sudden, I smell the stench of smoke, and I hear a faint sobbing. I freeze. A cold sweat comes upon me. The smell and the sound end as suddenly as it had begun, leaving behind an eerie silence. Once they are gone I wait a few seconds, frozen in place, before rushing to the blinds and jerk them up after throwing open the curtains. I open my closet door and to my great relief, there is nothing there. My heart, which had been pounding furiously in my terror, begins to calm down. But not quite entirely. My breathing also starts to slow. There is nothing there. Nothing there. Even so, I run to my bed to hide beneath the covers for the next few hours.
“Yes, you have a fever,” my mother says, taking the thermometer out of my mouth and looking at it, “It’s a good thing you stayed home from school. I’ll be back with some medicine for you.” She leaves, and I lie back down, totally exhausted. There is this sense of foreboding, and I’m too scared of what could be there. Too scared of what could come. The next day I feel much better, so I go to school. It was a normal, average day, until I got off the bus. The world slides out of focus and the smell of burning is back, and the sobbing is too. Louder though this time. I walk to my house and enter, struggling to look normal. I go up to the stairs and to my room. My parents are not home yet. There is something in my mind that makes me want to scream, something that makes me want to go running away to somewhere with people. Running away to someplace with noise, away from the eerie, silent, empty house. I reach my room and enter, not at all expecting what I find. There is a girl sitting on the floor facing away from me. A little girl, a little transparent girl. An obvious ghost. I scream and fall unconscious. Shortly, I regain consciousness, and although I am still quite terrified of the ghost, I do not scream. In fact, I cannot make any noise at all. I look at the ghost again, I am still in shock. It is the ghost of a small, sobbing girl. Her hair is in pigtails, and she is talking to herself. She looks similar to the way that I had looked when I was younger. Then her words confirmed my suspicions. “No, it’s not Jeanie’s fault. Don’t blame us. Jeanie can’t help it!” It seems that the ghost of my dead, insane sister is rocking back and forth, sobbing before me. She is talking in third person. I think to myself. She reminds me of Gollum. I look, petrified, at my ghost of a sister as the starts to fade, sobbing once again “It’s not Jeanie’s fault. Don’t blame us. Jeanie didn’t mean it.” I stare until she fades completely, just in time for my mother’s head to pop in through my bedroom door, as the echo of Jeanie disappears. “Honey, are you okay?” She says, and I realize that I’m still on the floor. “I-I’m okay.” I say, but I don’t look at her. I know my face is just the opposite of ‘okay.’
“So... You’re being haunted by your dead sister...” “Yeah. And it doesn’t help that she’s insane and tried to get me killed when we were little by burning our house down.” I am talking to my best friend, Sarah, in whom I have confided everything. Though this time, I had hesitated to tell her. But she had noticed my even-more-out-of-the-ordinary behavior. My paranoia was peaking. My eyes were deeply shadowed since I could not sleep for fear of Jeanie, my nerves were on end, and I jumped and shrieked more than usual. “Don’t worry,” Sarah tells me, “she’s a ghost. She can’t do anything.” “Yeah, I know you’re right.” I reply, “but it’s really scary.” My voice is shaking. “Just give me a call if you see her again.” I can tell she doesn’t really believe me. But who would? Not many people believe in ghosts anymore. At least she pretended to care though, so I am grateful. “Sarah, you won’t tell anyone will you?” “No I won’t.” She said with a smile. “Don’t worry about it.” Just having someone hear me out makes me feel so much better. I can almost feel normal again. Almost.
But this semi-happy feeling does not last long. I hear Jeanie again at night. She’s crying again, and talking to herself. I can’t see her, but she’s there. I know she’s there. I won’t call Sarah right now. It’s in the middle of the night and she doesn’t believe me anyways... I try to block out that forsaken sound. I try to distract myself, but it’s not working. She’s in my head. If I do sleep, my dreams are filled with nightmares, and I awake sweating and panicky with insomnia. The burning smell is back, and Jeanie’s sobbing echoes in my head. No sleep for me tonight... My appetite has been shrinking and I’m lacking so much sleep, deep circles have formed around my eyes. This haunting is doing me no good. I dread everything. School because of all the stares and whispers and shuddering laughs that follow me everywhere, and home because of Jeanie. Her ceaseless sobbing follows me everywhere. Over and over. “Don’t blame us. It’s not Jeanie’s fault! Jeanie didn’t mean it! Jeanie is sorry!” I want to say ‘I forgive you’, or something like that to her if it would silence her, but for some reason, I cannot bring myself to say it. I am too afraid. My parents are always asking what is wrong. I do not tell them. I cannot tell them. Who would even believe me? I feel like I’m trapped. I feel like I’m going crazy. I can’t think straight or concentrate on even the most minute things. One day I lose my patience. The slowly burning wick has finally reached the dynamite. I scream at Jeanie’s ghost. “GO AWAY!” I have completely lost it. I’m screaming and shouting and Jeanie sobs louder. “Jeanie doesn’t mean it. It’s not Jeanie’s fault!” I’m hurling everything I can reach at her. I long to reach out to grab her neck. I want to choke her. Kill her. But I can’t touch her. Stop the noise. I must stop the noise. When my parents come home they find me crying in my room. They try to talk to me, ask me what’s wrong. But I cannot hear them. I can barely even see them. I cannot hear myself. Nothing is as loud as Jeanie. Her sobbing and her words are amplified with each passing second. Over and over. Soon she is all I hear. It seems she is all I will ever hear. I scream for silence. My parents are there, but I can barely see them. My sight is blurred by burning tears. The figure of Jeanie though, is printed clearly in my mind. Her crouched, crying figure. She is seeping into every corner of every thought of my mind. I can never be rid of her. I feel hysterical. I feel hands grabbing me. I smack them away. I fall to the ground. Loud. Jeanie is too, too loud! I cannot breathe right. I clutch my chest and my ears. I want silence! Some sort of darkness is obscuring my vision. My eyes are becoming filled with an ash black blur. Jeanie’s presence is consuming me. My parents manage to take me to the hospital, although I have no idea what is going on. I am taken into a room and Jeanie quiets just enough for a question to be asked of me, and for me to hear it. “What’s wrong?” “Jeanie won’t be quiet! Jeanie’s being too loud! I want her to stop! Make her stop!” I am screaming and kicking as Jeanie starts up again. Quiet! I want Quiet! They are talking hastily about me. I know it. It does not help. It only adds to the noise. Loud! It’s too loud! Quiet! I want quiet! “SILENCE!” I am screaming at Jeanie. The hands are grabbing my arms again as I flail about, trying to get up. I rip myself away. I must get away. I must get away! Silence! I want silence! I run and run until I crash. I scream and claw at all those who get near me. “Go away!” I want Jeanie to go away. I feel my eyes roll back, and hear a strangled scream mingling into Jeanie’s sobbing and words before all goes black and I fall into unconsciousness.
There is a beeping noise, but other than that, there is no other sound. Jeanie has finally ceased, it seems. I open my eyes to see white. A hospital? Why am I here? I look over to my right arm. It hurts, and my eyes widen to see a cast on it. Then I look to move my left arm, and it is a discolored purple from bruises. Yup. Definitely a hospital. I think to myself as I look even more around the room. There are lots of lots of medical stuff and an I.V. sticking into my arm. I wonder what’s wrong with me... I don’t remember anything past this afternoon... I got off the bus, I came home... Then what? My mind had drawn a complete blank from that time. My ears begin to feel a burning sensation. I feel unexplainable terror. I don’t know what’s going on. I can’t remember anything. But do I want to? Beep... Beep...Beep... I sit up as a prickling sensation runs up my spine. My eyes are bloodshot and I shake in fear and in apprehension. It’s here. That presence.
I am shaking uncontrollably. My heart is beating so fast, it threatens burst from my chest. I feel like I’ve been running from this presence for a long time. And now it’s here. It’s here.
“Jeanie.” I say, my voice wavers. And she is here, for the first time, she is not sobbing. She is not crying. She’s just standing there with her head down, her bangs obscuring her eyes. My heart tightens in anticipation and pounds faster than ever before. I speak.
“Stop haunting me! Please stop it!” I am begging. A light flickers out and I can see my sister’s ghost more clearly. “Stop following me around, please! Why are you so angry with me? What have I ever done to you?” I stare. My vision is shaking.
“Jeanie... Jeanie isn’t sorry. Jeanie isn’t sorry!” Her voice rises to a shriek. Everything is flashing red. “Jeanie hates Amanda! Jeanie hates Amanda! Jeanie is a LIAR!”
I am petrified, but I speak. “What? What are you saying?” I feel like I am being burned alive, and all I can hear are the words of a ghost. Her emotions are filling me. Some sort of sadness, and a burning red feeling. Hate. True Hate. She screams again and looks up at me. For the first time, I can see her face.
The entirety of the skin around her eyes is charred away. I am paralyzed in terror. I cannot scream, no matter how much I may wish to. Her eyes are dark abysses. Empty, black, burnt sockets from which I cannot tear my own eyes away from.
“Stop it! Please just leave me alone!” My voice is high pitched, panicked. I am crying, the tears burn. I’m so scared. “Go away!” I scream, “Go away Jeanie!”
There is a sudden silence which rings loudly in my ears. The burning seems to cease, and all goes cold. I shiver.
“Jeanie?” The ghost says, and she moves closer. I cringe away. Her rotting, black eyes are boring into me. “Jeanie burned down the house! Jeanie killed us all! Jeanie is YOU!” © 2012 InsanityWriterAuthor's Note
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11 Reviews  Last Updated on December 26, 2012 Author
InsanityWriterI'm amongst my people. Praise!About****Please review some of my works if you're going to send me a friend request, I will return the favor. Thanks!! :) I write mostly poetry, but I do have a book of short stories (it's literally cal.. more..Writing
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