Kill The Gerard
The House of the Silent Girl
All throughout my childhood, I was told about a haunted house a few blocks down from my own home. My mom would tell me stories about a kind, sweet girl she used to be friends with who lived there. She said all of a sudden the girl began practicing these strange rituals that would cause harm to the people who bullied her. She also said that these often had harsh side effects, side effects like haunted immortality. The worst kind of immortality. The kind that would kill you from the inside out until you wanted to end your life, but knew you couldn’t. The kind that would torture you emotionally until you tried all the ways to die, from internal bleeding to internal burning.
My mom says the girl still lives in the house, and it was my stupid, stupid mistake to not listen to her.
The house was filled with cobwebs. Everything about it was dingy, and the lights didn’t work so I had to use a flashlight. The flashlight quickly flashed on. I began walking around the house, moving the light every which direction.
“Oh,” I sighed to myself, “This is easy. Mom must have just been telling a tall tale.”
I walked up the squeaky stairs. Every step I took left a piercing, five-second screech behind me. I tried to drown out the noise I was making by humming a song in my head. Then I felt a sudden draft of wind coming from behind me, so I turned around.
“Oh,” I said. “It was just the door. I guess this place is falling apart so much they come open a lot.”
I went to close the door back, no one needed the scare of someone coming in and exiting this house at the moment. I overheard a creak coming from the kitchen so I decided to follow it.
“So nice of you to join me,” said a girl. She looked so young.
“Are you Layla?” I asked.
“That’s none of your business,” she said coldly.
“Just asking a question,” I said, holding my hands up defensively.
“So are you one of those poor unfortunate souls who came to see if the legend is true?” she questioned.
“Sort of,” I answered nervously.
“Well at least tell the truth, because I don’t like liars,” she said, looking me straight in the eye. Her eyes were trying to play a game with my eyes, and her still hazel sparkles were winning.
“Yes,” I said with more certainty.
“I don’t like that,” she said darkly.
“Well, I’m sorry,” I apologized, “My mom just said so many things about you-”
“Like what? That I’m stuck in this life for eternity in a haunted state of mind?” she said sharply. “That all I try to do is get peace but bystanders like you just take it all away?!”
“You don’t have to be rude about it,” I mumbled.
“I’m not the rude one,” she said indignantly. “I live my life perfectly fine, but then people like you have to come and ruin it.”
Her head started to pulsate. I could see the curves in her forehead. I didn’t know what was about to happen, but her clenched fist showed that it was not going to be pretty.
“Do you like fire?” she asked softly, trying to calm down.
“A little,” I answered.
“Well you won’t when you’re doused in it,” she said.
“What?” I asked.
“You won’t like the fire when you’re doused in it,” she repeated.
And all of a sudden it felt as if I was crushed by burning gasoline…
My mom says the girl still lives in the house, and it was my stupid, stupid mistake to not listen to her.
The house was filled with cobwebs. Everything about it was dingy, and the lights didn’t work so I had to use a flashlight. The flashlight quickly flashed on. I began walking around the house, moving the light every which direction.
“Oh,” I sighed to myself, “This is easy. Mom must have just been telling a tall tale.”
I walked up the squeaky stairs. Every step I took left a piercing, five-second screech behind me. I tried to drown out the noise I was making by humming a song in my head. Then I felt a sudden draft of wind coming from behind me, so I turned around.
“Oh,” I said. “It was just the door. I guess this place is falling apart so much they come open a lot.”
I went to close the door back, no one needed the scare of someone coming in and exiting this house at the moment. I overheard a creak coming from the kitchen so I decided to follow it.
“So nice of you to join me,” said a girl. She looked so young.
“Are you Layla?” I asked.
“That’s none of your business,” she said coldly.
“Just asking a question,” I said, holding my hands up defensively.
“So are you one of those poor unfortunate souls who came to see if the legend is true?” she questioned.
“Sort of,” I answered nervously.
“Well at least tell the truth, because I don’t like liars,” she said, looking me straight in the eye. Her eyes were trying to play a game with my eyes, and her still hazel sparkles were winning.
“Yes,” I said with more certainty.
“I don’t like that,” she said darkly.
“Well, I’m sorry,” I apologized, “My mom just said so many things about you-”
“Like what? That I’m stuck in this life for eternity in a haunted state of mind?” she said sharply. “That all I try to do is get peace but bystanders like you just take it all away?!”
“You don’t have to be rude about it,” I mumbled.
“I’m not the rude one,” she said indignantly. “I live my life perfectly fine, but then people like you have to come and ruin it.”
Her head started to pulsate. I could see the curves in her forehead. I didn’t know what was about to happen, but her clenched fist showed that it was not going to be pretty.
“Do you like fire?” she asked softly, trying to calm down.
“A little,” I answered.
“Well you won’t when you’re doused in it,” she said.
“What?” I asked.
“You won’t like the fire when you’re doused in it,” she repeated.
And all of a sudden it felt as if I was crushed by burning gasoline…
♠ ♠ ♠
By Blood Sign.