I can hear the screaming from the room behind me. I sit curled up
against the wall, my head between my legs. The words hit my head with
bursts like fire escaping its comfort zones. My tears burn dark lines
onto my face. As I lift my head, I can see the crack on the wall in
front of me. The white paint being ripped off the wall as the shouts
come nearer. I start to hum a verse that stuck in my head the previous
night. My window is open, I can see vague shadows move outside.
My room reeks of old sweat, but I am already used to it. The light
started to flash in the roof. The room turned into a light and dark
room, flashing every couple of seconds. My eyes began to hurt from the
light. It was not 2 minutes when the light went out. The room turned
dark, only lit by the dull moonlight. The shadows outside began to move
more freely, jumping from side to side. A sudden gust of wind blew open
my door.
I always knew that the house was different from a normal house. I
knew the story that went around about twelve children that was hung from
this room. My room. But I never believed the ghost stories. I always
said to myself it was a fake story made up by stupid kids. Sitting face
to face with the reality now made me wimp. It made me cry out of fear.
In the door stood four figures. Four small children. Their bodies
pale white, their eyes black with no life in it. The cuts made by the
rope was visible around their necks. I could hear every breath they
took. They looked at me. I curled up against the wall again, feeling the
presence of their bodies near me. Visible cracks on the roof was
forming, I could hear it. I could feel the paint drop on my shoulder as
the cracks spread. The room became more dark when the moon hid behind a
cloud. I could barely make out the figures in the door, I knew they were
there.
“What do you want,” I managed to say when they started to walk
towards me. They didn’t answer. They kept on walking slowly towards me.
Their hands were covered with blood, bright red against their white
skin. Dark rings covered their eyes, they didn’t have any eyes! Black
holes looked back at me. I could hear silent whispers come towards me.
My feet tried to kick them away, but I could get enough energy towards
my legs to kick them. My arms felt weak, I couldn’t get up or speak.
From the roof fell four ropes, the edged covered with stains of
blood. I knew what this was. I knew how the story ended. We told it over
and over to try to scare each other. I never got scared. I never
believed. Loud sobs came from my mouth the moment the first boy touched
my leg. His touch was cold, leaving blue marks where his hand was on me.
He took my hand with a strong grip. I didn’t move, but something inside
me made me stand up. A slight smile came to the boy’s face when I got
up. It made me fear him even more, crying louder.
The rope was tight around my neck, my feet barely touching the
ground. Tears didn’t help anymore. I looked up to the ceiling, where the
cracks first started to show, and said in a soft voice, filled with
pain, “Why…”
My feet were lifted from the ground, I couldn’t breathe anymore. The
moon shone a little bit brighter once it moved away from the cloud. All
the children looked at me while I hung in the air, smiling a kind of
satisfied smile. I could hear one of them breathe louder again. The
dim-lit room started to fade away, fade to a shading of black, covering
my sight completely. My eyes closed for the last time, the last air
escaped through my throat.
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