Kenneth Manor (Haunted)

Chapter Three

Written in black soot all over my walls in large printing was:

Get out of this house!!!

Scared for my life, I bolt downstairs to where my parents are looking over their bills.

“Mom! Dad! You have got to see this!” I exclaim. “I got up to my room and there were these words written all over my walls-”

“Slow down, there. Take a deep breath and explain what’s going on,” said my father calmly.

“The only way to explain is for me to show you,” I told them.

I wasn’t sure how I got up to the second floor. I don’t know if I ran, slowly walked or crawled up the steps; all I know was that when I reached my room, there was nothing there.

“I don’t see anything out of place here,” said my mother.

“No. No, it was there before; I swear!” I practically yelled.

“Honey, nothing is wrong here,” my dad said in that calm voice again. “What did you think was in your room?”

“There was writing!” I screamed. “It had said to get out of the house! Mom, Dad, you have to believe me! It was right there, plain as day!”

They looked at each other worriedly. Most likely, they think I have forgotten my brain outside the house or something. I know, I know, that I saw black handwriting on the wall.

Or had I? I had been jumpy lately, especially with that shadow I saw in Quinn’s room earlier. Was I just imagining this? Or is there really something here?

I would love to believe that this is all just my imagination and that I am just overthinking all of this, but deep down, I know I am not. Deep down, I know that I wasn’t imagining things, or claiming crazy stuff.

There was a story behind this house. And I am going to find out what.

The man observed the house from a great distance. He had known exactly when they would first settle in the house. The trick is, convincing them that he was a good person.

“Do you have their background information?” the man asked as he heard his companion step behind him.

“Yes,” replied the gravelly voice. “The girl is interesting though. Has a history of perceiving things. Things we don’t want her to know.” He alluded.

“I know, she is a problem, but she is not our primary concern. It’s Amy,” the man replied. “She is dead set on, no pun intended, protecting her home. I don’t want her getting in the way of our plans.”

“You may already be too late. My intel tells me that she has already made contact with her,” his companion replied.

“Then we have no time to lose,” the first man chuckled.

I’m out on my lawn, enjoying the fresh summer breeze of LA. Smelling the salty ocean fumes, tanning under the warm, welcoming sun, and relaxing with no worries in mind.

“Angela!” my friend, April, called out to me.

“April!” I shouted back.

“Who’s April? I’m not April,” the woman said in a voice that suddenly didn’t sound like my old friend from California.

“You’re not April,” I said hesitantly.

“Of course!” she said bluntly. “I have already said that. Were you not paying attention?” As she got closer to me her features were drastically different from April’s. While they both have the same shade of caramel colored hair, but this woman had deep green eyes and slightly shorter than April. Fear settled inside me as I wonder why this woman was at my home.