Help! I Don’t Know What To Do!
My name is Sara, I’m 19 and I live in upstate New York, in the outskirts of Syracuse. I’m the sort of person who has never believed in ghosts or the supernatural. I guess I did when I was little, but as I grew up I began to think that it was all a bunch of lies made up to spice up our lives but simultaneously detach us from reality. I WISH!
I want to avoid the phrase “It all started…” but I think that’s probably the only way I can begin without confusing you. So here I go.
It all started when I was coming back from a friend’s party about two weeks ago. Now, I’ve lived in this place my entire life, so walking home from Jenny’s house, even at around two am, was no big deal. Anyway, as I walked, I started to feel very strange, somewhat light-headed and nauseous. And before anyone wonders whether I was drunk or high, believe me I was completely clean, because I’m too scared to touch pot and last time I’d gotten drunk, I’d made such a fool of myself that I never wanted to repeat the performance. Back to the story.
About twenty feet away from my house, I experienced the most frightening moments of my entire life. I saw a young boy, maybe ten, maybe younger. He was standing at my doorstep in tattered clothes, trousers and a white t-shirt, looking somewhat like a boy from the sixties. He was making crying noises but I couldn’t see his face. Then I spoke to him, saying something along the lines of: “Are you ok? Has someone hurt you? I’ve never seen you before around here.” He didn’t reply and I went closer. “What’s your name? Would you like to come inside?” He remained silent, except for the occasional sniff, with his head down. Again I approached slowly. “Hey…you don’t have to be afraid.” I said quietly.
“Afraid?” He finally said in a childish voice but it sent a chill through me like nothing else. And my fingertips began to tingle. Maybe it’s true what they say about that signifying danger. Because his voice was echoing as if coming from various directions as opposed to just from him. “Help me,” he continued and then suddenly looked up. My heart began to fire away and I tried to scream but I couldn’t. He had no eyes. Where they should have been, were hollow spots. And even saying it now it sounds like something from a movie. But I swear it’s not fake. Those dark hollows haunt me at night, every night. And then it was gone.
It was gone, but as I walked into the house, I was shaking, and my teeth were chattering from fear in the way that you see on cartoons. Only this was real, just like what I had experienced. And I’m sharing this with you because it seems as though people on this site know about this stuff and aren’t cynical. And I need someone to believe me. I’m 19, I’m not really a teenager so this can’t be some poltergeist I’m reflecting from my own internal turmoil. Really, I’m not depressed or deeply angry about anything. I’ve always been open about my problems so I don’t harbor any dark secrets. I’ve thought about that a lot because I would rather it was that. Believe me!
Either way, I decided to shrug the incident off, although at first, I’ll admit, I was somewhat scared for my health. But about a week after I’d seen him, which is about a week ago, I was lying in bed, trying to fall asleep, when I heard this crying at the bottom of my bed. With a frozen hand, I switched my side-light on and there he was again, staring at me with those deep black holes of nothingness.
This time he didn’t disappear, he reached out for me and touched me. I was too petrified to move. I swear I’ve never felt so uneasy, so distressed, so cold and so helpless. It seemed as though every feeling of despair and fear I’ve ever had was suddenly amplified by millions. His face was serious and my heart beat so fast I thought it was going to pop. I began to weep but I couldn’t make a sound. If this ghost boy stopped my heart, no one would ever know. But he let go which now makes me think he only wanted me to feel his pain, his despair.
The performance was not repeated in the same way but this past week he’s been showing up at my bed, night after night, standing and weeping, then looking up and walking out through the door. And I mean THROUGH it. I’ve been thinking it’s all in my head and I even mentioned an MRI scan to my mother the other day. But two nights ago, my mom came up to me and asked me about why I’ve been crying night after night and if there’s something wrong with me that we should discuss. Since I always tell her my problems she seemed rather upset that I hadn’t come to her with what was bothering me.
“Yes mom. I haven’t come to you because I’m not the one crying.”
“What do you mean? Your dad’s heard it too and David (that’s my older brother) said he heard you crying in your room when he came back late last night.”
My brother had been weird and quiet all day in fact, picking at his food, contemplating things in silence and such. When I walked up to him and touched him he jumped. Then I confronted him about the crying and told him it wasn’t me.
“Yeah I know. I saw it leave your room.” When he said that goosebumps broke out all over my skin and as I write, the same thing is happening. I was relieved though. Relieved that I wasn’t and I’m not going crazy. At the same time I’m scared because this is real. This is happening. I’m… we’re… being haunted.
I’m going to research the house’s previous owners to see what happened. But I’ve been living here forever and if this is the ghost of the previous owner, of a child brutally murdered, why is it surfacing now? All I know is that the feelings that washed over me the night he touched me can only be described as something one feels when in Hell…. And if this boy is really dead and if what I felt was a reflection of his feelings then I pity him. No one should have to endure that. And does he need my help? Is that why he’s persisting? Because he’s not hurting me or anything. At least not anymore.
Please help me, give me some advice. I’m so scared and I don’t want this to dictate the rest of my life. It’s already changed the way I see the world and it’s been hard for me to accept it, even though I haven’t talked about that aspect in this story. Please. Any suggestions are welcome. Thank you.
Written by Sara Michaels, Copyright 2008