My name is Seth Henway. I'm writing to make sense of my past; A part of my past that my parents still deny, but I know what I saw. This all happened over twenty years ago, but I remember it as if it happened yesterday.
When I was about nine years old, my parents decided moving to a new community was a healthy choice for us. A better home and a more stable neighborhood to raise me. Don't get me wrong, I liked where I lived before the move, but looking back as an adult it was the right choice. Everything about the new neighborhood was perfect. Everything except for the house.
Immediately upon entering, my parents showed nothing but ecstasy toward our new home. I grudgingly trotted into the foyer with a grimace.
Something didn't feel right.
From the moment I laid eyes on the house it didn't feel right. Of course I couldn't explain it at the time. I tried complaining to my parents about how I felt, but they only offered the usual answer that every parent gives. 'You'll get used to it.'
I thought that the change of environment was the reason I felt so uneasy. I used to think that my parents may have been right. Maybe I just had to get used to it.
I was wrong.
After a few weeks went by, my feelings were confirmed. It started on what seemed like a normal Saturday morning. It rained, so playing outside wasn't an option. I decided I'd utilize the long halls to my advantage. My parents liked to keep the doors closed for some reason, allowing me to throw my new red ball against the walls and doors without fear of it rolling into some unknown dimension of the house. Mind you, the house was very large for only three people and a golden retriever.
I was enjoying my game of one-person catch, until my ball escaped me. It rolled all the way down the hall to the last room at the very end.
The door was open.
I swore it had been closed when my game began. This idea shook me to my very core. The darkness of the sky outside allowed little visibility into the room, as it was only open enough for me to see a crack of darkness the width of an adult arm.
That's all it was. The wind. I remember my mother talking about how wind could open and close doors in a home if it was strong enough. I supposed my mother or father had left a window open, allowing for a draft to open the further most door. I was upstairs alone and, being a young child, didn't want to take any chances. I stood frozen at the opposite end of the hall, my eyes drilled to that open door.
It was not the open door that shook me, but what it emitted. I stood there for only a moment more before turning around to join my family downstairs, when I felt something bump the back of my heel. I looked down to see my bright red ball sitting idle at my feet. My eyes shot up to the door, which echoed my beating heart with a loud slam.
I darted down the stairs and into the arms of my mother. She hushed my cries, telling me it was the wind. For awhile I believed that, but the wind doesn't make you see the things I saw.
The next event was not so easily misinterpreted.
I was home alone, as my parents decided a night out was past due. They didn't feel so bad leaving me with Jessa, our golden retriever. She was a great family dog and I felt safe with her around. They would only be gone for a few hours.
A few hours too long.
Since my parents were out, I decided to play all the games on our Sega Genesis that weren't 'age appropriate'. I remember starting off with a game called 'Primal Rage' and ending with 'Mortal Kombat'. The blood and gore was exciting to a nine year old boy; Until I heard the sounds.
A faint tapping sound came from the kitchen. I ignored it at first and switched the television on. The tapping became banging, like metal on wood. I got up from my comfortable position on the couch, calling Jessa to join me. We walked through the dining room until Jessa halted. She would go no further. She stood with her back straight and the hair spiked up defensively. I pulled and called her, but she would not enter the kitchen.
I don't lie when I say it took every ounce of courage within me to turn the corner. Every drawer and cabinet lay open with it's contents vibrating and shaking within them. I turned and ran into the living room only to be greeted by a t.v. screaming with white noise. I turned to Jessa, who was barking and growling frantically toward the hall and dining room. I turned once more to see a woman dressed in white, floating above the dining room table. Floating, because her form was strung up by a noose. I remember slowly approaching the figure. I don't know why, but curiosity got the best of me.
Sure enough, her ghostly figure hung from the ceiling fan. Her body turned slowly, even swayed slightly. Her eyes were wide open, staring in one cursed direction. The shock had taken over my body as I moved to look down the hall. The doors were all opening and closing on their own, slamming with rhythmic intensity.
All but one.
Until this day, I don't know how or why, but I was drawn to the bathroom. Some unseen force pulled me there. I made my way around the corner and swung the door open.
God, I wish I hadn't.
The bathtub was filled with crimson. Blood. I could smell the iron in the air. I was frozen with fear, as a body rose up from the tub. A young boy, about my age at the time, sat up and stared at me. His index finger met his lips and scarlet letters began to seep through the walls behind him.
'DON'T LOOK BACK'
Finally, my lungs shook from their frozen state, and screams broke free from their fleshly cage. I tore through the hall and living room, practically breaking down the front door. Jessa stole after me and we both sprinted down the block as fast as we could. I screamed and cried the entire way.
It seems now, that I made one fatal mistake.
I looked back.
I saw her. She stood in the middle of the street, her head dramatically tilted to one side. Her transparent body floating off the dark ground.
Needless to say, my parents practically drove right by me. When they saw me crying on the sidewalk they were furious. I'll leave out the gritty details, but I refused to return to the house. No matter how hard they tried I would not step one foot closer to that place. A few weeks later we moved again. After Jessa wouldn't stop barking at the dining room table and I couldn't go anywhere alone.
It's now twenty years later and I continue to only regret one thing. I looked back. Why did I look back? It doesn't matter now. I'm in a hotel writing this as we speak. My wife and son are at home safely, or at least I hope so. Every time I look in the mirror, though, I see her. I see her pale, transparent form. I see her wide, open eyes. I see her hands wrap around my neck. I hear her son whisper. Whisper softly.
"Don't look back."
