Spooky

MARK'S POV

I ran relentlessly through the woods, scared that the attacker would catch up with me, my legs were worn out and my chest felt like it was going through a compressor. I turned back in a split second to look, tripping and hitting my head on a tree stump in the process. I looked around for my assailant, but all my eyes could see was the billowing smoke. A bile rose in my throat, as the fear of death ran thick in my chest‒

"Mark! Hey Mark!" A tiny, ringing voice infiltrated my head, interrupting my thoughts. With a slight groan, I opened my eyes just in time to see my little sister raise a pail of water directly above my face.

"Hold it!" I jolted upward, banging my leg on something hard in the process. I craned my neck a bit to check what had stubbed my toe, it was her shoe.

"What's up with you, Jessie?" I half yelled, my eyes fixed in a glare.

"Morning bro. Arise and Shine!" She called out cheerfully, removing the window blinds.

"You just woke me from my sound sleep. Congratulations,” I mumbled. “Now leave me alone."

"Come on, don’t be like that. You were snoring so loud, that I just had to wake you up, for the peace of the house". She grinned, clearly enjoying how she was getting on my nerves.

"Alright that's enough; leave my room,” I said, getting up from the bed. “One of these days, I am going to put a proper lock on my door." I kept mumbling, pushing her to the door.

"One of these days? We are moving today dude!" She said, pulling a half-smirk.

Oh yeah! I totally forgot we were leaving Minnesota to New Jersey!!

The smirk left her face the instant she saw the look of surprise on my face. "I'm— I'm sorry. Breakfast is in five minutes." She spoke hurriedly and ran downstairs.

Actually, I have slight amnesia. When I was twelve, I and Jessie got into a fight, and she hit my head—not intended though—with her shoe.

Strange enough, my memory got wiped! I had to go see a therapist for two years. Jessie had not been able to forgive herself ever since.

"Mark, downstairs now!" I heard Mom's tiny voice calling as I groped the door for support, the room was beginning to spin a little. I blinked a little and took a quick look around my room, every part of the room was scattered. Apparently, I’d had one of my night encounters again.

Since I turned 15, I’d been having these weird encounters where I walk in realms unknown, and I wake up to see traces of my night's activities in my room. Just Jessie knows of this, and that's why she is always the one running up to call me down for breakfast, just so Mom or Dad doesn't find out of my escapades at night. Weird? Yes. Could I help it? No.

In five minutes, I bundled up the mess to my bedroom—bad habit—and went down for breakfast.

"Mar-"

"I'm here!" I called, ending my mother's tiny scream. My mom has always had this tiny, loud voice she always has reserved for moments when she needs either my sister or I. Guess Jessie takes after her, though she uses hers all the time.

I couldn't recognize the scene I met downstairs. There were moving boxes everywhere and the living room looked empty and unoccupied, just like when we moved here some six years ago. Jessie did say we were moving, she wasn’t joking at all.

"Hey chap! What's up?" My dad called in a cheerful manner I had become accustomed to. He was one of what kids liked to call modern parents, never wanting to be disagreeable with his offspring.

"Fine I guess." I said, getting one of the few chairs the moving agents had not taken already. The guys apparently were here very early.

"Alright, this is our last meal in this house!" My mom announced in her usual dramatic manner. Dad once joked that she should have considered a career in being a circus host—hostess?—or something in that direction.

"Mmm, scrambled eggs. My favorite!" My sis cried, clapping her hands like a two year old. I and Dad exchanged glances, trust him to be the cool guy at all times. Mom served all of us, and then took us on a long breakfast prayer. Mom's parents migrated from Nigeria to the U.S in 1947, some years before they had her.

After the prayers we had our meal, in silence. Another of mom's rules she made us keep since forever. Make a noise, and you'll have her to deal with for the rest of that day. I noticed mom looking at my head strangely. I was quiet, and so was she.

"Honey are you okay?" She asked, putting her fork down. One of the downsides to Mom’s rules was that she considered herself above them.

"Sure, why?" I asked, uncertain as to why she was asking.

"Why is there a bruise on your head, and why am I just seeing it now?" She queried.

“Huh?” I gasped; I must have gotten that during the encounter last night! Jessie looked at me, not knowing what to say

"Yeah, uhm, I had it yesterday evening. I uhm… went to play soccer." I stuttered.

"Really? We ate dinner together last night and I didn't notice." Mom continued, narrowing her eyes while she kept staring at me.

"I wore a bandana yesterday!" I said quickly.

"Oh, okay. Though I don't recall seeing you on a bandana yesterday evening." mom said, clearing the dishes.

"That doesn't matter does it honey? The point is that he's better now, right son?" Dad asked, clapping me on the back before proceeding to remove some crumbs from his shirt.

"Um yeah, sure."

"Very well then, we'll hit the road by 10am,” Dad stood with his empty plate, he was also the quickest eater in our family. “The agents would be here to tow most of our belongings for us. Just grab the necessary stuff, the rest would come later."

I sighed, grateful for Dad’s cool and optimistic approach to things, today added to number of times he’d saved me from Mom’s interrogations by being just himself. I wondered if he knew what was going on, even if he didn’t find out by himself, it wasn’t a far-fetched idea to assume Jessie had ratted me out.

I finished eating and went back upstairs to begin packing, looking around the room every time I felt a mix of nostalgia and joy. Inasmuch as there were a lot of memories in this house, there was more good than bad. I didn’t feel sad about moving at all, maybe the nightmares would stop.

I couldn’t fathom why they happened, or why they seemed to happen to only me. Maybe whoever lived here before me was into the dark arts or something! Or maybe they had the same trouble with me and hired an exorcist to bind the demon to‒

"Mark! What on Earth are you still doing up there?" My sister yelled, climbing the stairs that led to my room. I had gone into one of my imaginary sessions again.

"Great, you are not done packing yet." Jessie said as she entered, her face wrapped in a scowl.

I gave a sigh, deciding not to respond to her whining. She stood there tapping her foot until she realised I needed a hand; we managed to finish early once she joined.

We trudged down the stairs with the basic luggage we could carry. The living room was already bare as hell! The moving people were filing in and out, grunting as they lifted boxes either by themselves or in pairs. We were on our way out of the house when Jessie ran back.

"Jessie? What are you going back into the house for?" Mom called in her tiny voice. We got no answer, so I went back in.

"Jessie?" My voice echoed as I called, the house was empty after all. I went to the kitchen, she wasn't there. Maybe she went for a last minute pee in the restroom, so I went there. She wasn't there too.

"Jessie?" My mom called out, entering into the room. "Where's Jessie?" She asked when she met me, her voice moving from its default impatience to anxiety.

"I dunno," I replied with a shrug. Suddenly, an idea came into my head. "Let’s check the garden.”

Jessie owned a garden at the back of our house. She may have been there.

We ambled our way through the house to the back of the house and there she was, kneeling by a hedge of rosebushes with her back turned to us.

"Jessie?"

She gave no answer, and did not stir.

"Jessie??" I called, louder this time. Still no response. I walked closer to her and gave her a tap, withdrawing my hands immediately. Her skin was cold to the touch, an icy, stinging cold, even though it was mid-summer.

"Jessie?"

I turned back, Mom had vanished.

"Jess‒"

"F**k off!" She gave a furious yell as she turned swiftly, her face was smeared with blood.

"Jesus Christ! Jessie!" I shouted in horror, my eyes darted downwards a bit and I caught sight of her fingernails, they were longer than they usually were.

"I'm gonna kill you as my last devotion to this goddamn house!" She screamed in a cold voice, pushing me to the floor with such strength she had never possessed, she screamed again as she dug her nails into my chest.

"Jessie? Cut this shit out! What do you think you’re doing?" I said in between gasps.

She gave a little snort, licking her bloodied lips. "I will kill you and feed your soul to the sanctuary of this house!”

I raised an eyebrow, wondering if this was real or just an act. However, a certain fear had begun to creep into my chest.

“Stop this shit right now!” I said, uncertain if my words had any effect on her.

“First, the garden,” She said, ignoring me. “She craves your eyes, and she must have them." She tore her nails out from my chest and stabbed them in my eyes. I screamed in pain and horror as I witnessed firsthand the excruciating feeling of my eyes being pulled away from their sockets

"Arghhh!"