I have no name. I have never concerned myself with names. I been living in the Anderson Ranch for the past...I do not even know. I been through so many families, they all look the same to me.
Every so often, a family moves in, and I chase them away from the Ranch. Sometimes, if I am lucky,I take a soul with me.
I enjoy terrorizing the families. I love the fear and the screams that the children make at night. What amuses me the most is when the adults seek the aid of the church or some Indian healer to rid their house of me.
Nevertheless, I stay. I always stay.
The families always leave even if that means they lose a member in the process. I have no sense of time so I do not know how long the ranch has been empty. Therefore, I wait. I wait patiently for the next family, the next human to move in here so I may return to my dark deeds. Eventually, a family does move into the ranch. It could have been years later. It could have been months. It could be days.
I do not know, but now, a new family has arrived. Outside my window, I can see a bright red truck. Yes, a brand new family, how exciting. I see a father, a mother, and a little girl.
I will take the girl. Yes, the girl. I will take the girl.
The mother jumps out the truck, and she quickly grabs boxes. My attention falls on the father, what a curious sight. He opens the door for the girl, and he carries her. She is much too large to be carried. I see her eyes, and I realize the little girl is blind. In my many years on this ranch, I do not recall a disabled child. Perhaps I should keep watching and remain patient before I begin.
The family has settled now inside their home.
They put up calendars on their wall so now I know they have been in this home for perhaps three months. They have already settled into their routine. The father leaves for work in the morning. The blind girl leaves for school and mother stays and tends to the home. Unlike most mothers I have encountered, there is darkness around that woman that invites me and tempts me.
Sometimes during the day, I rearrange things and slam the doors. However, as life continues in the home, the family grant me a bigger distraction than I could ever provide them. The father works late in the evening while the mother cares for the blind little girl. The blind girl uses her stick, or her hands to maneuver through her new home. Being that she is so young, she depends heavily on her mother. Her mother refuses to talk to her and randomly strikes the girl across the head.
The home has become a literal hell on earth for the little girl. Her mother does not speak to her at all so the girl is at the mercy of listening to her mother's footsteps to avoid her brutal beatings. During suppertime, the woman places the child's meal in front of her. The little girl trembles with fear and she is slow to begin her meal.I realize it is because she is waiting for the next swing across her head.
I cannot properly haunt and scare the family because I am so shocked that a mother would torment her blind daughter so. I have never seen such a thing in my existence.Later that night, the mother angrily puts her child to bed. The little girl is sobbing and extending her hands clumsily to protect herself, but she is often too defenseless.
Finally, one night, against my better judgment, I pull a poster off the wall. Its startles the mother and she stops striking the child. Unsure, she leaves the child's bedside and tries to pick up the poster. When she bends down, I run my claw down her spine. This frightens her, and she leaves the room immediately.
The little girl sat frozen in her bed, and she did not relax until she hears the door shut except her mother did not close the door. She does this to taunt the girl.
