So Many Around Me
I was four when we brought our new house. My mother was having another child, my brother. We had to move from our apartment since it was too small.
The neighborhood we moved was, and still is silent. Not many kids are around and not many people come out.
I knew from the moment I stepped foot into the house that something wasn't right. I was frightened when we went down to the basement. Of course it was cold, but I was shivering. It didn't feel right.
When I went to bed for the first time in the house, I could've swore that I saw a man standing right in front of my door. I hid under the covers and when I looked back up, he was gone.
When I was eight, four years of living in the house, I knew more about ghost. It made me feel a little better having that knowledge. So, when I went to bed, I couldn't sleep. I didn't know why. I knew that I wasn't one of those people who could fall asleep once their head hit the pillow, but I wasn't an owl either.
I tossed and turned all night and that’s when I heard that girl's voice.
"Mom!"
The voice rang through my ears. I sat up and sat frozen for a good three minutes, until I gathered the courage to make a dash for my parents’ room. I'm twelve now and still feel them around me, even now as I'm typing this!
But I'm use to it unless the lights in the bathroom go off when I'm in the shower and I feel a hand ghosting up my body.
I don't like this house. These spirits are targeting me and I know they are enjoying my fear, and me being naive.
They wouldn't harm any others of my family, only me. They even play games when I talk to my mother about these ghost shows I watch to understand them better.
I hate this house.
