The Untold Story.

Oh god. I'm so nervous. I'm sorry, I've just been so nervous lately. I suppose I should start the story now. P..Please forgive me if I should stutter.

My family m..moved to Cleveland about t..t..two months ago. I admit, I wasn't excited. But, there I met Antonia. She was an energetic, fiery latino girl. We were best friends from the get go.

I was spending the night with her. We sat up late, and she told me the story of Jeff The Killer. She put very graphic details about how he was set on fire, the murder of his family, and about how the same house sat in an overgrown forest about five houses down.

That's when she dared me to go.

I.. I was always easily frightened, you see. I didn't want to go, but she was so convincing. Before I could help it, My shoes pulled themselves onto my feet, and I was running behind Antonia to the house.

She pulled me to some bushes to an ugly, paint chipped house that had brush stuck to the walls. The shingles were falling off, and the porch was molding. An grabbed my wrist and lead me to the house.

"It..It's just a house," I say trying to be brave, "nothing more, nothing less." An looked at me.

"Oh really?" She smiled. "then let's go in!"

"No!"

"Quit being a scaredy cat." she went over to me and pinched my elbow. "Whatever happens, happens." I rub my, now red, elbow. "But, we'll make it out!" She finshes the sentence with a slight giggle.

I look down at my shoes. "Okay!"

Arm in arm we walk up the creaky steps. I thought about jerking away, running, and pulling Antonia with me. But, I knew she wouldn't come. She'd always been stubborn. She opened the door, the knob came off in her hand.

"I guess Jeff can't afford a handy man can he?" She joked, as she placed the knob carefully on the porch.

She grabbed my hand and lead me inside. I felt sick. There was a smell, a nasty smell.

Like something was rotting.

"Antonia.." I whisper.

Oh god, why didn't she listen!? Why didn't I pull her away?! Why didn't I force her out!? But, s..she didn't go!

"I'm not going back!" she said.

I gulped. It was like a regular house on the inside. Though almost everything around us was broken, or covered in conwebs. An turned toward me.

"Let's go upstairs."

Not wanting to be a chicken in front of my only friend, I agreed.

I swore, the stairs were waiting to collapse right underneath me.

"What if Jeff The Killer doesn't live here, what of we're in some old lady's house?!" I whispered.

"Amy, your being a baby!" She yelled.

A door opened; we held our breath. A boy about our age walked out.

His face was distorted, a permanat smile on his face and eyes with no lids.

I will never forget that face.

"I know your in here!" He laughed. I ran down stairs.

"Antonia!" I yelled. B..but, she didn't move.

Instead, she moved toward him. I yelled her name out again, but in vain. I ran out, knowing An's fate.

It's all a blur now, but I somehow made it back to my home, shaken to my core. I sat on my bed.

A voice, sweet and warm said, " Go To Sleep."

"N..no."

"Go to sleep." It repeated.

The next thing I saw was pure blackness.

I woke in a hospital. I'd been stabbed three times in the chest, and An..

An had died, she'd been skinned. They found her body on the front lawn of the house.

I keep having nightmares of him. I know he'll come back. I know he'll kill me. We're moving, but I know he'll follow.

I lay in bed, waiting to hear the tapping of the glass, to see him standing over me, the knife gleaming

T..that's my story. It's your choice to believe it or not. But , I hope you do.

For Antonia's sake, and my sanity.