Myla Roams Around

I

I : DOORBELL

"Yes, I just arrived. Thank you for it, I guess?"

The baritone voice on the line chuckled. "Well, do you like it?"

I spotted his gift and took a good look on it. The neatly shaved Bermuda grass, the perfectly rational stands of fences, the wide yard, and the average-sized house with walls of oak; is shining with the sun in its varnished appeal. I beamed after gazing at its entirety.

"Mhm. Quite fabulous for a countryside refuge.": was my satisfied reply. I can image him nodding continuously on the other side of the payphone.

"Take your time lounging on that house. It's about you move on from Jill—"

"Told you not to mention her name, Lance." I heard him sighing on the phone. I continued. "Page me at 3 o'clock. I'll check the inside and position my baggage."

"Sure, sure, call you later."

5th of September, Year 1979

I moved to a house in West Virginia today. That brute recommended it to me, and I took the offer. I see Jillian's face everywhere in New York; and this'll reduce my PTSD episodes. I bet I'll have a good time.

I was awakened by a sound of a little bell. It's 5 AM, the clock says, and my anger issues are worsening with this wrench. Who doorbells at a newcomer's house at this time in the morning?

I hurried towards the main door to open it. There is no peek hole, so I can hardly guess who the unpleasant guest is. I brushed my messy hair and yawned one more time. I painted a snub face on my visage and turned the knob.

Yet, no one was there.

12th of September, Year 1979

For the past few days, there's always a sound of a doorbell at my front door as soon as the grandfather's clock strikes 5 AM. I wish I couldn't care less, but my door bell was broken and this is the only house standing in the woods. I wonder where it comes from.

"I'm hearing some f-cking strange sounds, I swear! The other night the crockeries are all broken, last night the clothespins are broken and sh-t—what do you want me to expect me tonight, Lance?!" I thundered at the phone. I'm not up for some awfully stupid haunted house when I covet comfort even for once—just for f-cking once.

"Calm down, Tom. I will—"

"Get the therapist and fetch me here right now!" I hissed. "D-mn it!"

I almost threw the phone up in the air. I pulled my own hair as the ecstatic heartbeat of mine fluctuated, leaving me in utter fear. Something is wrong with this house. I need to get out of this play they thought is frolic and go somewhere else. I can't leave without my therapist though; I need to go hypnotized in a car before I can reach my destination without PTSD episodes.

I got in a car accident a couple of years ago. Though I lost some of my memories and never recovered, I received PTSD, and I can't ride any vehicle until I'm fully well. I'll go to Doctor Trecks's office every weekend for a consultation, but he riled me all over that I lack the capability of treating him with prestige when he repeats every process over and over again that I'd wish he'll just shut the f-ck up. I gave up and decided to reside in a place far away from everyone else. Because I want peace. But that night, mystery and I crossed paths again.

I was awakened by the door bell's sound. I tried to ignore it, but that creepy sound won't stop until I open the door. So drowsy I went, wanting to sleep so bad that I ignored the horrors inside my mind. I turned the door knob and swung the entrance open—and as usual, no one was there, and I hoped no one will ever be. And there really was never one.

I held the knob again, and shut it close, yawning in utter ignorance.

But as I turned my back, a petrifying figure caught my eyes. I was taken aback, making rattling noises, breathing so deep and hard as if it's choking me, suffocating me, torturing me with the chains of Hell. Its horrifying appearance opened and awakened my anxiety—making me tremble and apprehensive more than any automotive vehicles can. And it won't stop. I'm afraid.

I'm afraid that it'd chase me and devour me whole.

13th of September, Year 1979

It was a girl. A small girl. Her hair was long and messy; I don't remember much more; but there's something remarkable about her that would cause my worst nightmares.

It was her mouth. Split from the both of the cheeks. And she's drooling on her jaw.