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|The Ghost That Haunts Me (standard:horror, 937 words)|
|Author: Jason Anderson||Added: Nov 21 2001||Views/Reads: 2279/0||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|This is in the narration of a boy who is haunted by a ghost...his own!|
The Ghost That Haunts Me Nov. 14,í01 Today was bad. Very bad. It rained most of the day, and it was still raining when I came home from school. I threw my books-U.S. History and my tenth grade English workbook with a new letter from Katie that I hadnít read yet-on the bed. I went into the bathroom, and staring back at me from the mirror over the sink, I saw that ghost again. When I realized whose it was, I wanted to scream. Mine... I must be crazy. Iíve played it over and over in my mind and- Dear God, is this what itís like to be crazy? Nov. 15,í01 I took the first step necessary. I broke up with Katie today. Did it over the phone, as a matter of fact, because I was too chicken shit to do it face to face. She cried a little. She wanted to know what had went wrong, and I couldnít tell her what had been racing through my head at that moment. So finally I just did the only thing I could. I hung up on her. Damn. I think Iím going to go cut now. (later) Momís been telling me Iíve changed. That may be true. I had been reading a book I had gotten from the library-Exploring the Unknown-sitting on the edge of the couch by the lampís light. Her favorite show was on, Cops, but by the next commercial break, I could see she had lost all interest. ďGary, is there something wrong?Ē I marked my page and laid it down beside me. I asked her what she talking about, but I knew even before she answered me. She sighed ruefully. ďWell, for starters, it seems Katie has dropped off the face of the earth and you donít seem to care-ĒLike salt to an open wound.-Ēand itís Friday and youíre sitting here with your nose in that damn book. Youíve become quieter and youíre grades have been slipping. I got a note from your Science teacher and she says sheís worried about you. So again, I ask you: What is wrong?Ē I shrugged. I braced myself for a lecture-it seems mothers always have an abundance of those-but every word that came out of her mouth might as well have been alien talk. I went to bed at nine and that is where I am now. Goodnight. Sleep tight. Donít let the bed bugs bite. ha-ha. Nov. 16,í01 I saw him again today. Period six, study hall. He was standing in the doorway, wearing the same pair of black jeans and black T-shirt as I wore...but he was bleeding from a small cut on his forehead and clutching something metallic in his hands. Bobby Stevens was the closest to him. He was playing a game of tic-tac-toe on a sheet of tattered paper with a pimply, scrawny kid named Eddie Brantigan and they were both laughing. I was at the table in the back of the room. I couldnít move. I felt drained and weak. I watched as he slowly put one hand over Bobbyís head and with the other, he revealed what he held. A bloodstained meat clever. I screamed and immediately every eye in that room was on me. Even Bobby, looking at me with a dumbfounded expression that made me want to get up and kick his ass. I went red and hid my face behind my Math book. But I was relieved to see from out of the corner of eye, he was gone. And I couldnít stop from trembling. I looked around one final time and the bawls in my stomach began to loosen. Cressner clasped me on the shoulder. I jumped. ďBoy, you need to get a grip. Yupe. Youíre like a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Yupe.Ē He looked at the cover of Exploring the Unknown, and said with a point of his finger: ďAnd thatís your problem right there.Ē I wanted to ask that little fat bastard who in the hell gave him permission to stick his two cents in, but I fought it back. Barely. Nov. 17,í01 Itís Saturday. Six oíclock on the dot. Mom is at the grocery store. Itís dark outside and i am beginning to worry. Thereís nothing to watch on the TV---nothing but college football and a movie starring Demi Moore and Tom Cruise----so I will write. Itíll pass the time anyway. I had a dream last night, if you can dig that. I very seldom dream. I canít remember much and what I do has since become fuzzy and gray. Maybe thatís a blessing in disguise, Iím not sure. In the dream, Bobby Stevensís head was splitting in two, right down the middle. The blood, which seemed to be a lot, though I donít quite know) was crawling with roaches and beetles. There was a muffled sound of chainsaws and---- I woke up screaming and panting. I was sweaty and at that moment, I thought my heart would burst out of my chest, it was that hard. Weird, huh? Nov. 27, Ď01 Itís been ten days since my last entry. As far as I know, this will be the last. When I get done writing this, I will burn my journal. I have to. Then, I will kill myself. I stole my dadís .45 from his dresser, and I stole a box of shells from the ammo store down the street. Earlier today, I put my fingers on my wrist. And I have no pulse. And maybe this time,I'll finish the job. Bye-Bye. And so long. Tweet
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