I was about seven years old when we had moved. It felt very awkward in this house, like there was a strange presence that I could not see. I soon took my first step in my room, there was a bone chilling breeze coming by. I silently got under my covers and fell to a rest. I soon woke up hearing thudding coming from above me. It sounded like footsteps. I slowly walked to the hallway. A dark figure ran by me. I was not sure what it was. But whatever it was, was creeping me out.
A couple years later my little sister was born. I heard her crying one night and walked to her room. There was a flesh burning smell in only her room. A dramatic change from the hallway to the door. I picked her up. I then saw a devil like figure in the corner.
Three days later, I tell my mom. She says she has seen things, too. I tell her about the attic. She goes and says nothing is there. Two weeks later it's my birthday. There is a strange man walking up and down the stairs. I go to talk to him. He had walked into my room. When I go into my room nobody is there. Then downstairs I hear a scream. It's my mom. Something has gone wrong. She's bleeding from her forehead to her neck. There are scratches everywhere.
We got papers about the house. It is built over an Indian burial ground. We move and there are no more problems. This is one of the many stories of my life.
Written by Jenna Wood, Copyright 2009
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