Horror House

I started puking up blood. The copper taste never really left my mouth after that day. I keeled by the bathtub, vomiting more and more. She was beside me, standing there menacingly.

I watched, as though an old film, and saw what had happened to her.

There was a dead girl with a heart in her mouth and no eyes, that part of her face was wide with astonishment and torment. She kept trying to scream, but she couldn't. The heart was fatty, like a mass of gross tissue or a tumor trying to escape a tortured soul. Often veins would crawl out of her skin.

She could hear him coming, the ringing, and slow vibrations in the air and objects around her, warning her, but to no avail. There was no help for her soul.

He always used to come into her house and rearrange her possessions, attempting to possess her. Sometimes when she was out of the house and about, she'd come back, and the furniture would be tossed about or just moved dramatically. Then, sometimes when she slept, he would come in and watch her and turn the faucets on, or the television. The little trinkets she had sitting on her shelves, some were mermaids, one was Betty Boop, and he would move them or lay them down, but never break them.

She couldn't stop him. He was otherworldly.

Sometimes, she'd be standing in the kitchen, and static would rise up through her body, she'd loose colors of the spectrum and her mind would fade out to gray. Always, all she would hear was the ringing, and it tingled her bones, tickling them. She could feel the objects moving by themselves. But it was always him. He would allow her no one and nothing.

She would cry, but she cannot.

She would scream, but she cannot.

She would leave... but eventually, she could not.