Confusion

I really don't know where to start right now. But I suppose I'll start from where I left off last night.

After posting my last entry I walked up to the house I had found. Now this place, it wasn't like any modern house you'd see while walking down a typical sub-urban neighborhood. This place was old, something that would have come out from the 1800's I suppose. It looked more like a mansion.

I knocked on the door and after a short while an old, short woman with white hair opened the door. She took one look at me, and then she turned around and walked away. I didn't know what to do. I called out to her but she just turned a corner and was out of sight.

By now it was fully dark, I didn't want to spend another night out there; so I walked inside and called out for the woman again. I got no response.

There was this strange feeling after walking inside, my whole body felt like it was buzzing and vibrating. I was definitely knew something was wrong at this point, don't get me wrong, I'm not stupid. But this was a house. A house. Do any of you have any idea what that means? Food. A shower. A bed.

Most of you reading this have these things every day of your life, and if you don't, then at one point you almost certainly did. Having that taken away from you, all the things you use and take for granted on a daily basis, gone, in almost an instant.

I couldn't walk away. I couldn't this down. So I walked farther into the house. And the door behind me slammed shut. I didn't even turn around. I walked around the corner to the left to find the woman, only to find an empty, white wall.

At this point I heard it again. A sound I've heard one time too many. The sound of a child's laughter. Coming from upstairs. I knew this was bad, I knew this was wrong. I ran to the door and when I tried to open it the doorknob dissolved in my hand. I don't know how and I don't even want to think about it.

I turned around and saw, that at the top of the stairs to my right, was a little girl in a while dress. She was holding a bunch of textbooks, like for school. She was smiling and looking right at me.

Up until this point I had never seen any children, only heard their laughs, or their screams. This was new to me, and I didn't know how to react.

Suddenly the little girl started tilting her head to the side, and she kept going, and going, until I began to hear snaps and cracks, until her head was literally at her side. Then she turned and ran down the hall. Giggling.

No exit. No escape. Fear. Only fear. I willed myself not to panic. Panic causes mistakes. We've already gone over this.

Certainly, I shouldn't have done what I did next. But I felt as if there was no choice, that if I ran to another part of the house I would only encounter more walls. I was almost certainly right.

I traveled up the stairs, they creaked under my weight as I stepped on each one.

I decided to follow the little girl's path. I turned right and walked down the wall. It was getting darker and darker, leaving the light of downstairs behind. Finally, when I became encased in total darkness, I decided to turn back.

Except, now there was no light behind me, I couldn't see anything. All around me was pitch black. All I could hear was my breathing.

And soon, I became aware of someone else's too.

When that happened, I got an adrenaline boost, instead of running, I leapt towards the sound of the breathing. I know now, that that was certainly not a good idea. But in that situation, I felt as if that was all I could do.

I crashed onto the wooden floor and suddenly the lights were back on. Except now I wasn't in a hallway, but in what looked like an attic. In front of me was some sort of casket. At least, it looked like a casket. But when I finally decided to open it, all I found where newspapers. Lots of them.

Headlines, all from the early '50s, all from the same town in California. All of them detailing stories about missing children. Dozens of pictures of small children who had gone missing. I kept wading through them. All until I came across a picture of a little girl. The little girl I had seen. I read the article. Her name was Katrina Andrews. Apparently she had been complaining about a certain "tall man in a business suit" following her the week before she went missing. She had been sick with a cold the day before she dissapeared.

"Have you seen my teddy?"

I turned at the sound of the voice. There she was again. Katrina Andrews.

"Wh-what?" I asked. I was too startled to say anything else.

"My teddy. His name is Furry!" she announced in a startlingly cheerful voice.

This was a trick. It had to be a trick. I knew it was a trick.

"Stop it. If you want me, then come out here and get me. But don't taint this poor girl's memory while doing it" I said hatefully.

After that, I can't really be so sure as to what happened. The girl began to twist around and shake, spasming violently. She opened her mouth and screamed. But it wasn't the scream of a little girl, it was the scream of a monster.

I can't remember anything past that. All I know is that a few moments ago I woke up here, in the woods. My computer and what remained of my supplies were next to me. In my hand was a piece of newspaper. On it was a name and a date.

Stirling City, 1953


I really don't know what to make of any of this. I really don't. I'm pretty sure the house was a manifestation of sort created by Him. And that worries me. The story says we willed Him into existence. But when HE starts willing things into existence, that's when I get nervous.

Luckily, this forest is on the edge of a town. Although the last things I want to do right now is sleep. Some research needs to be done, I suppose I may update soon. Unless the obvious happens, in which case, I will not.

Regards.