The Final Battle Pt. 2

The angry ghost stood over me, menace in his eyes. Before he could plunge down with his knife into my exposed back, the kids screamed from upstairs. The knocking started up again, and this time it sounded like they were using heavier objects than just their toy blocks. The ghost looked over his shoulder, and I used that to my advantage. I picked up the cutting board and scrambled to my feet. He turned back to me, and I swung the heavy wood board at him. He'd manipulated it, so it was real to him. Or at least that's what I told myself. The board went through him, but I could swear I saw him wince as it did. In any case, he disappeared.

I dropped the cutting board and gathered the three knives as I zipped upstairs. I burst into my room to see the boys lying dead on the floor. I saw no sign of the angry ghost, but I could feel in the air that he was there. Before I took another step in, I saw the blocks spelled out two words of sorts: U RITE. You're right. The last conscious thought about fighting the ghost I'd had had been with the cutting board. The kids were telling me the knives would work because the ghost had used them. I smiled and yelled something about how I was there or he was in trouble or whatever. I thought it was a witty action star thing to say, but I guess it wasn't since I don't even remember now.

The ghost appeared, and everything was over in seconds.

I flung a knife at him, and though it didn't hit him, he flinched away from it. I threw the second, and this one got him, though I believe it was a handle hit. It stunned him for a second, and I took that chance to leap at him and stab him repeatedly. It was probably the strangest sensation I've ever had: my knife went right through him, but he screamed in silent agony while silvery-red blood gushed from his shimmering body. He dropped his ghostly knife, and instead of clattering to the floor, it simply disappeared. He fell to his knees, and I took the opportunity to slit my knife across his throat. I again felt no resistance from his flesh, but the wound opened as if he had actually been cut. Instead of falling, he vanished.

It felt like a windstorm blasted through the house. It lasted less than a second and nothing but me was disturbed, but when it was done, I knew the supernatural presence in the house was gone. The kids and their blocks were nowhere to be seen, either, and though I expected to hear a goodbye knock, none came. And I haven't heard any since.

Though it's all done, I doubt ghosts are gone from my life for good. This house is now clean, and I like to think I helped send the boys to heaven or wherever you like to believe good spirits go when they pass on. The angry ghost should be in whatever hell realm exists. That thought helps me sleep at night.

So this is the last post of my blog, Weird Happenings. At least for now. And don't be afraid to keep checking here every so often. Whenever something strange in my life happens that I can't explain by normal means, I'll be sure to post here. So I guess I'll talk to you later.

The Final Battle, Pt. 1

Sorry it's taken me so long to write this. Two reasons: first, I wanted to wait a full week to make sure there really was nothing left in the house (as far as I can tell, that's true), and second, I plain didn't want to think about ghosts anymore. At least for awhile. I'm over that now. For the most part, anyway.

I walked into the house last Wednesday, and the angry ghost didn't waste any time. As soon as I opened the door, a frigid blast of air hit me, and dread radiated out of the house. I had no idea how to fight a ghost, but I knew right now I had to try my best. Sure, last week I fought it--sort of, anyway--and I like to think I won, but obviously it didn't leave. Unless I slammed the door and didn't go back until everyone else got home, though, I'd have to improvise something.

And improvise I did.

I leapt into the house and was greeted by a roar that ricocheted through my skull so much that I thought I'd pass out. I managed to stay conscious and looked around to get my bearings. Other than my breath, I saw nothing out of the ordinary. With the freezing temperature in an otherwise warm day, I knew it was around me.

Last week I had the idea that I could somehow hurt the ghost with physical blows, and that had worked to a certain extent. This time I knew that wasn't the case. I knew it wasn't a psychic battle, not totally anyway, since he could hurt me physically, but I knew I needed to find a gameplan soon or I'd be toast.

The ghost fired the first shot. My backpack lifted off my shoulders and hit me hard in the back of the head. Not enough to knock me down or anything, but enough for me to see that the ghost was ready for action. I still couldn't see him, which put me at a disadvantage, but somehow I knew that he wouldn't cause me much damage without his visual form. Don't ask me how I knew this (or anything about the situation) but I did.

As I stood waiting, daring the ghost to make the next move, I heard not only thumping from upstairs, but also the cries of children. I knew the boys were on my side. If I could get up there, they might be able to help me enough to win this war. At the very least, I hoped they could at least give me hints on how to hurt the angry ghost.

I dashed for the stairs, but as I neared them, vertigo overtook me, and as the world spun, I found myself on the way to the kitchen. As soon as I entered, everything stabilized, and I watched the silverware drawer open. Three steak knives rose out, and they flung themselves at me. I moved quick to avoid them and slipped on the linoleum floor, spilling myself hard but safe under the head-high projectiles. The knives clattered on the ground, but they wriggled there. I skittered to my feet, expecting them to rise again. Instead, as I watched them, the heavy wood cutting board on the counter flew and hit me in the back with such force that it took my breath away. I fell again, and that's when he appeared at the entrance of the kitchen. He brandished his ghostly butcher knife which I knew would cut me just as easily as a real knife. As he advanced on me, all I could do was stare at him.

It's Over

It's over. He's gone. I beat him. I'll explain everything when I'm not so damn tired.

The Note

Somethings coming. I can feel it. Everything has been quiet since Wednesday, but this time I'm not fooled into thinking everything's gone away. He's building enough force to use against me, I have no doubt. And what am I doing to combat it? Nothing. Not one damn thing. I may just be a fifteen year old kid, but I'm not afraid of this ghostly coward. I haven't been afraid of him since I read his little murder/suicide note. I only read it once, but it was so short that it was easy to burn into my memory.

"Goodbye cruel world." Yeah, not a real original opening, buddy. Maybe if you'd been a better father, a better human being, you wouldn't have been put in that situation where you thought you had no way out.

"I can no longer stand to live in a world where everyone hates me. My wife left me with these two little brats, my boss goes out of his way to humiliate me in front of everyone, and even my neighbors turn the other way when they see me." I'm sure they did all of that just to spite you for no good reason, right? I'm sorry, but if there's that much hate for you out there, you did something to deserve it. Just by calling his kids, who seem like decent little blokes to me, little brats proves this guy wasn't a real winner.

"This world no longer deserves me, and I'm going to make sure it doesn't deserve my boys, either. See you all in hell." Great. I don't mind that this guy chose to off himself--not like it was a great loss--but this coward had to go take out his frustrations on his kids before he did himself in. What a man, huh? I'm glad he's still around because I want my chance at smacking him around some for his boys.

Anyway, like I said, nothing has happened since Wednesday, but I can feel the storm coming. It seems everything big has happened when I'm home alone, which only seems to happen on Wednesdays after school, so I'm sort of guessing that's when he's going to attack. I'll be ready. I'm not really sure at the moment, but I'll think of something. I'll keep you updated.

Murder/Suicide

My computer problems stopped after I posted the last blog entry. In fact, it all stopped. The kids weren't even knocking. As weird as it sounds, at first my room was harder to be in when they weren't there. I'd grown so used to them and the sounds. The silence was deafening, as the saying goes.

This was the rest of Sunday, all of Monday, all of Tuesday, and this morning before school. I have to admit that I had more trouble sleeping with the knocking gone than when it was there. By Tuesday night it was all sort of feeling like a dream, and by Wednesday, I was looking forward to actually being alone in the house after school, which really hadn't happened since before the ghosts had shown up. As soon as I put my key in the lock, though, I knew something strange was up.

I pushed the door open and found myself in a different house. The floorplan was the same, but the furniture, decorations, and even the carpeting were different. It was all old--not old like junky, but old like from a different era.

I stepped inside but didn't feel like I was in the moment. I don't know how to describe it, but it felt like I was watching a 3D movie or something from inside the screen. It was just little things like the shag carpeting didn't feel like it should have under my feet. Actually it felt exactly like the carpet I've been used to walking on for the past three years since it was installed. I guessed that if I walked towards our couch, which was just empty space from what I could tell, I'd actually bump into it.

I heard someone banging around in the kitchen, so I went to investigate. The angry ghost sat at the kitchen table--or rather a kitchen table as I'd never seen that one before--with a can of beer in his hand and probably eight or nine empties strewn about him on both the table and floor. He was scrawling something on a pad of paper, and tears flowed down his cheeks.

The thumps started from upstairs, the ones I knew at once were the kids upstairs. In fact, I had the most peculiar sense that they were doing exactly as I had during that dream when I was throwing blocks against the wall. I turned to the man, terror flowing through my veins, and shouted at him. "No, mister, leave them alone!"

He didn't hear me. I knew he wouldn't, but I had to try anyway. He finished up both his beer and his note (his suicide note--I knew it to be true), stood up, and grabbed a knife off of the counter. I stood in front of him to block his way, but he walked right through me. I contemplated following him, but I already knew the grizzly outcome. Instead I bent down and read the note. Just as I guessed (I knew), it was his "goodbye world" note. Before I could do anything else, the world blurred and I found myself standing in my family's kitchen--the one I knew so well. I'm still not too sure what the hell happened.

Ghost Firewall

I've tried posting a couple of times since Wednesday, but he hasn't let me. I don't know how he does it, but he doesn't want to be known by anyone but me. I don't know why. The only reason I know this is true is because the kids told me when I asked. It's still only a "yes/no" conversation, but it's better than nothing. They want to help me, and they can get to him, so I'm not arguing. They're distracting him right now, which is the only way I'm able to be doing this blog entry. I can surf the Internet just fine, but I just can't post on here without help. I just hope the kids can keep him occupied until I hit the publish post button.

Not a lot has happened since Wednesday. I didn't notice the angry ghost at all until Friday night. I'd gone out with a couple of friends to see a movie, and when I got back, he was standing in my room. I tried ignoring him, but that didn't work--he kept staring at me, and I felt the air get heavier and heavier. I would have charged him again, but I didn't want my family to hear. Finally I told him to leave, and he did. I asked the kids if he was afraid of me and the blocks knocked against the wall twice. I had no clue why he'd listened to me, but I couldn't think of any yes/no questions that would have answered it.

As soon as I got on my blog page, he came back and stabbed my computer with his knife. I don't know what I expected, but I got the not responding page. Every other site worked, so I don't know what the heck he did, or how it was even possible. Not that most of this seems possible. Same thing happened on Saturday, not just once, but three times. I took a swing at him to keep him at bay, but my fist went through him and couldn't stop the knife. After that I'd asked the kids if they could keep him busy while I posted, and though the single knock of confirmation seemed hesitant (I know, I know--now I'm not only communicating with knocks on my wall, but I'm judging the emotions of the answer, too), I knew they could do it. So far so good. I'm going to end right now so they can get away from him. Hopefully you'll see this.

Mom handled me with kid gloves last night, as the saying goes. My dad must've layed into me good behind my back. She didn't come out and say anything, but I could tell what was going on. She was always in my corner, but she had her doubts about this. Having her think I screamed out last week, the night I got the scratch on my throat, didn't help. Though she was careful to not bring anything about it up, I could tell she though I was going insane. Great.

I don't think my hurt feelings about all of this helped when I came home from school. The heavy air assaulted me the second I opened the door. Instead of feeling beat down, though, I lashed out. I slammed the door and screamed at the ghost to leave me alone. I don't remember everything that spilled out of me, but I'm sure I'd have made my mom and sisters blush.

I saw the blur at the bottom of the steps, and without thinking, I charged and swung my backpack at it. Just as I would up, the blur solidified into the angry ghost. It sidestepped my attack and lunged at me with its knife, its mouth twisting into words I couldn't hear. My backpack had me off balance, but I did manage to avoid the knife and kick at the ghost with my trailing foot.

Everything happened so fast I'm having a hard time explaining it even to myself. My foot must have moved right through him. My whole body went numb with cold, starting at my foot and moving up, except for a spot in the middle of my back, which heated up like it was on fire. I tumbled to the ground and rolled into a position to attack again, but it was gone. The heavy feeling in the air left, too.

I walked up to my room to do my homework, no longer afraid. I'd confronted the ghost and he ran away, not me. I felt better than I had in weeks. I even said hello to the kids, though I didn't see them. The knocks proved they were there.

As I started my homework, I felt what first was a tickling on my back, and then a bit of a sting. I put my hand over the sensitive spot and flet some lumpy tracks, like scratches. I lifted my shirt and looked in the mirror. A short message had been etched into my back, and though it looked backwards in the reflection, it was still easy enough to figure out: U DIE.

Before today it would have scared me. Now, though, after fighting the ghost, if just pissed me off. "Is that the best you can do?" I yelled.

The knock came twice, our previous agreement for "No." Didn't matter, and as I write this, it still doesn't. This damn ghost isn't going to scare me anymore. Now it's on. It's on like Donkey Kong.