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The Ghost That Haunts Me (standard:horror, 937 words) | |||
Author: Jason Anderson | Added: Nov 21 2001 | Views/Reads: 3586/0 | 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,’01 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 hadn’t 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. I’ve played it over and over in my mind and- Dear God, is this what it’s like to be crazy? Nov. 15,’01 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 couldn’t 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 I’m going to go cut now. (later) Mom’s been telling me I’ve 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 lamp’s light. Her favorite show was on, Cops, but by the next commercial break, I could see she had lost all interest. “Gary, is there something wrong?” 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. “Well, for starters, it seems Katie has dropped off the face of the earth and you don’t seem to care-”Like salt to an open wound.-”and it’s Friday and you’re sitting here with your nose in that damn book. You’ve become quieter and you’re grades have been slipping. I got a note from your Science teacher and she says she’s worried about you. So again, I ask you: What is wrong?” 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. Don’t let the bed bugs bite. ha-ha. Nov. 16,’01 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 couldn’t move. I felt drained and weak. I watched as he slowly put one hand over Bobby’s 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 couldn’t 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. “Boy, you need to get a grip. Yupe. You’re like a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Yupe.” He looked at the cover of Exploring the Unknown, and said with a point of his finger: “And that’s your problem right there.” 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,’01 It’s Saturday. Six o’clock on the dot. Mom is at the grocery store. It’s dark outside and i am beginning to worry. There’s nothing to watch on the TV---nothing but college football and a movie starring Demi Moore and Tom Cruise----so I will write. It’ll pass the time anyway. I had a dream last night, if you can dig that. I very seldom dream. I can’t remember much and what I do has since become fuzzy and gray. Maybe that’s a blessing in disguise, I’m not sure. In the dream, Bobby Stevens’s head was splitting in two, right down the middle. The blood, which seemed to be a lot, though I don’t 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, ‘01 It’s 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 dad’s .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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