My little sister, Carol, became attached to the house very quickly, especially her room. She never wanted to leave the house to go to school or out to eat. The longer we stayed there, the worse it grew. She got to the point where she wouldn’t even leave her room to come down for dinner. For whatever reason, she was attached to that room of hers that was positioned at the end of the dark hall. Even though my room was located at the other end of the hall, I could hear her at night playing with her toys and talking to her imaginary friend, Jack. The peculiar thing was that she had never spoken of this imaginary friend until the day we moved in.
One night I was in my room and I heard giggles echoing down the hall, but it wasn’t recognizable. It sounded as if it was coming from a young boy who was seeking out his prey. I felt the air grow cold, so I searched for my parents to try and figure out what was happening, but they were nowhere to be found. During my search, I came upon a door I had never noticed before. It sounded as if a soft tune of “Here Comes the Bride” was being played from behind it.
With the feeling of someone tugging on my pants, I preceded the door. Not sure of my actions, I grasped the handle as it slowly creaked open. The room looked as if it was a storage unit for a previous family. A luminous candle struck my attention out of the corner of my eye. I cautiously crept toward the antique stand it rested upon. As I opened the single drawer, it made a screech that sent chills down my spine. Within the drawer were two newspaper clippings. I chose one dated back to 1892.
The article was about a couple with a young boy named Jack that had lived in this very house. It was said that the parents were having marriage problems, and that before taking his own life, their son had murdered them in their sleep. When the deceased couple was discovered, their wedding rings were missing.
I felt as if my feet were nailed to the floor, my body was frozen. I knew I had to read the other clipping though. I reluctantly picked it up and continued. It was similar to the first one; the only difference being that it was a young girl who had become possessed in this house and murdered her parents.
With a sudden feeling of someone looking over my shoulder, I dropped the papers and slammed the drawer. It made a clink sound as it closed. Filled with curiosity, I reopened it. I shuffled around to come across six rings. As I examined them, I recognized two of them. They were my parents’.