Friday Scary Story, January 9, 2015

Fear.

The kind that makes you sick.  Makes you vomit.

Something is in my house.  It doesn't have a form.  It has a presence.

I feel it behind me.
I feel it beside me.
It whispers by my ear.  I don't know what it's saying.

I asked it to leave.

I made it mad.

Every night now, I hear footsteps coming up the stairs.  It stops at my bedroom door.  It stares at me.  I think it waits for me to fall asleep.

Last night, it touched me.  It touched my hair.  It was beside me on the bed.  I ran as fast as I could, out of the room.

I told it to leave.

I made it angry.

It pushes me now, when I am at the top of the stairs.  It bangs on the walls.  It opens and closes doors.  It is getting violent.  It is getting loud.  I am so scared.

I am leaving tonight.  I will never come back.