“Where would you like me to take these boxes?” I asked my wife. We were moving into our new house, and my hands were full of her crafting tools. “Just take them down in the basement. I’ll go through them later.” I smiled and opened the door to the basement, fumbled for the chord to the stairway lights, and made my way down into the unfinished basement.   The walls were made of different colored stones, and the floor was cold concrete. I went to the far corner and searched for the one lone light in the basement and pulled the chord. The light came on and the bulb swung throwing shadows across the walls. I must admit I was a little creeped out and that’s when I saw something glitter in the other corner.   I went to see what treasure I might have found and realized it was a book that had the word diary across the front made with little beads. _My daughter would love something like this _I thought, she likes shiny things. I dusted off the front and saw that there was a year at the bottom, 1929.   I opened up the diary, and felt a little guilty looking at someone else’s thoughts, but I’m sure they were long gone, and it might be pretty interesting. On th the first page the name Mary James was handwritten with the subtitle of ‘How it Happened.’ This was going to be interesting because I had to know what happened, so I turned the page and read the first entry.   January 1st, 1929 _ _ It is the beginning of the new year, and it has begun. The violence is outrageous, and I can’t help but think that at 21 I should be able to get away, but I can’t. He is always around, and I have no way of knowing when he will show up. I hid in the secret room I found when we moved in, but he found me any way. I had to…Oh no here he comes again. _ _ Obviously, this girl had been in danger. I wonder what happened that she had to hide. Was she abused by her husband or father? I flipped the page to read some more. I already knew I needed to find out what happened to this woman.   January 31st, 1929 _ _ It has been a month, and I finally have time alone to write here again. I was locked away and finally let go. I was bound to the bed and kept in my bedroom. He hands fed me and made me feel as though things would get better. He is such a gentle person when he wants to be but I know the rage will come again. I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this, he goes into these mad rages. Oh no, I think he is coming. I better get supper started. _ _ I’m sure my eyes were as wide as saucers. The story that was unfolding was something one might read in a horror story. “Hey, what are you doing down there?” I heard my wife yell down to me, “Nothing, I’ll be up in a second.” I closed the book and stuck in my back pocket to read later and headed back upstairs.   Later that night after supper I told my wife that I was going to put some things we moved into a room we decided would be when we had bought the house. I moved the desk into the corner and took some tools out and put my chair together and then sat the book down on my desk. I stared at it for about five minutes and decided I wanted to know more and opened it back up to the next page.   February 4th, 1929 _ _ _It has been very quiet lately, almost too quiet. He is sitting in his room now and I can hear him talking to himself or is he really talking to himself. I’m so glad I get times like these where I can be alone. This small room on the second floor seems to be my only sanctuary. I come up here to read the Bible and pray. My faith gives me hope that things will get better. My crucifix my mother gave me hangs on the door. She had told me to pray every night and everything will be alright…. oh no he is coming and banging on the door. _ _ _ I sat back in my chair and that is when I noticed it, the paint looked as though it was worn in the shape of crucifix, but that had been almost a century ago. How could that still be marked on the walls. I was becoming afraid now, of what I’m not sure, but I was felt afraid and turned the page.   This page was much different there were what appeared to be spattering of blood on the page. I read the words.   February 5th, 1929 _ _ I hurt all over and the bruises are starting to show more. He used the whip this time and tied my hands to the bed post. He isn’t afraid to hurt me and doesn’t care who knows. He has taken to locking me in the room and the house when he goes outside to play. _ _ What the hell? Start to play…I needed to read on.   He likes to play hide and seek and says that if I’m locked in the house, it is easier for him to win. He likes winning. My son is evil. I’m not sure how it happened. He was so happy before we moved into this house. He was loving and would curl up with me in a chair so I could read to him. _ _ He is a boy…I turned the page; it was covered in blood. The outside edges of the pages were read and covered it up, but I could read a little bit through the blood.   Oh my god he is coming back. He seems very agitated and just yelled “It is time to die mother.” _ _ I dropped the book and then I heard my daughter yell “come downstairs daddy, let’s play hide and seek in our new home.”

“OW” I yelled when the brown rough box came barreling at me. And with one thunk and a killer head ache, it landed right on my now pink and purple head. “God damn new house. God damn old fucking owners that didn’t clean out their fucking shit!” I rant, kicking the hard box and stumb my toe with a yelp. A weak sigh escapes my lips as I take a couple deep breaths and deafetedly pack up the box again. I pay no mind to the contents, it’ll all get sent to a landfill anyways. The corners are smooshed in with dents from where it attacked my head and taking a belly flop to the floor._ After almost all the contents are merccililess shoved into the crumpled box, I notice something different. A rough paper scratching at my fingers, and cool rings biting at my fingers. It’s a notebook. A dusty, grimey, old notebook. My lips make an O as I push air through them, blowing off the dust. When the dust clears from it’s old home into the air, I see a silky name written in red paint. “This notebook belongs to: Malfred Vinny, Please return if lost.” _ “Malfred Vinny huh..? Probably borgusie jerk.” I mutter flipping the old notebook open to the first brownish yellow page. The paper is corse and friglie between my fingers. Red-ish brown paint soaks the first page with sloppy writing.
“My name is Malfred Vinny. Son of Martha and Stewart Vinny. But here, in this damp cold basement names are only a concept to make one feel better. My wrist is burning from the chain clamping down on it yet there isn’t much to do about it. There’s another locked down here with me, a female. I know not her name, but only that she is sweet. She allows me to use the blood from her wounds to write. I would be heartbroken without it. I shall write to you with bated breath tomorrow whilst I slumber in peace. _ -Vinny” __ My stomach turns with a gag trying to escape my throat. My hands shake viciously causing me to drop the book onto the firm concreate. Wait so that means the writings in… no no someone’s just playing a sick tick on me. Yeah… yeah thats all there is to it. But there’s those hooks in the corner- its just for meat, **it’s just for meat. **I shakily pick up the notebook again and with a deep breath, read the next page. “It’s been a week with food and water scarce. The kind female offered me her meal but I refused. We both need our energy if we wish to escape this place. Plus she’s older so I still need her. The old man let us free to roam the basement this moring. He has yet to re-chain us, perhaps he trusts us to not run off. Or he’s tormenting us with the prospect of freedom which is far beyond our reach. Ether way I hope we can escape soon. I’ve run out of blood so I’ll write you when my supply re-fills. _ -Vinny” __ The room spins, my legs become noodles as I drop to my knees The grip on the notebook tightens almost crumpling it. My sister, Alison was kidnapped back when I was a youngen, is this what she went through? I was never able to ask since her escape from chains was a death in them. Watery tears grace the bags under my eyes despite my desperate attempt to keep them in. I wait for my blurry vision to leave before I pick up the notebook again and read. “I’ve fallen ill. A simple death sentence in a place like this. The females been forcing me to drink her water despite my desperate attempt to convince her against it. There’s only one thing to do. Kill the weak link. Me. The chains will work fine as suffocation. Weep not for me, I accepted my fate the moment I was tossed into this hellhole of a basement. Goodbye dear reader, and goodbye world. _ _ -Vinny” _ _The tears in my eyes thickly drenche my face. How could someone ever do this to a child, such an innocent one no less. I close my eyes as an involuntary whimper purses my lips. I can’t stop now, if there’s more pages I have to read. Not for me, for Alison. To find out what she went through., With a heavy heart I flip the page. “The dead body has been stinking up the room for a couple days now. The old hag hasn’t moved it and I don’t he ever will. Vinny used to love writing in this thing. I never quite understood why, it’s just blood on paper. I guess it’s nice to get my thoughts out. I don’t know how I’ll do this without Vinny, he was my rock. But he desserves a funeral, So Ill give him the best one I can. I covered him with a towel and drew up some flowers on the floor. Now all thats left is a eulogy. Malfred Vinny, Son of Martha and Stewart Vinny was a good kid. He always put other first even if it meant sacrificing himself. If only his parents could see him one last time I know they’d be proud. He gave me more time, and with that I’ll continue to fight till I draw my last breathe. Goodbye reader, I’m sorry but this is the end. -Alison Wright”

This is A story about my travels,moving from Ireland having a 1.2 hour flight to England and experiencing a terrible event tha wasnt my fault.So like I said I had Just gotten off the plane and that's when I noticed That my purse Was Missing and i checked behind me and walked Back to The gate I got off and I could Not spot a thing insight exept People wondering hopelessly like a lost puppy just not as cute. because I lost my purse. I walked back to my gate. The same one that i had just got off my plane from and I checked all around the place and nothing was there. I checked twice to make sure that I did not miss any hidden spaces, but again I couldn’t find anything, so when I checked in my bag again, somehow it was there again my purse was in my bag the whole time now, clearly it must’ve dropped out on some picked it up and put it in my purse but when I turned around no one was there I thought maybe someone ran to the toilets, so that was next to me. Well, you never know . so I just went to see in the toilets if any of the stool doors were open and none of them were open so I was absolutely shocked. Maybe I was going blind .well maybe I’m not going blind and maybe I just didn’t quite see it when I had a look but I did proper take it everything out of my bag and I still couldn’t find it so I’m still very shocked on how this whole time, it has just been in my purse, I didn’t quite understand it, so when I checked in my purse all of my cards and money was still there so I didn’t really worry so much so when I held my passport, m y phone and my purse in my hand, I went through security and I got out of the really stuffy airport, because it was all hot in there for the people, who were just queueing up waiting for something that they’ve forgotten on the plane. as I got outside my Uber who was going to take me to my hotel was already there waiting.  “WHATS TOOK YOU SO LONG !” said the Uber driver l “Exuse me ?”i replied “ you said to be here by 9:30am and do you know what time it is now ?” He asked me I didn’t want to just say no, so I had a sneak peek on my phone, but then I was pretty shocked of what the time was  “Yeah your a bit late coming out aren’t yah ?” She told me I had realised that I had had spent an hour and 30 minutes in the airport looking around for my purse A FULL HOUR AND A HALF that a long time if u ask me . I didn’t say anything else to the Uber drive for the rest of the trip until I got off at my  at my hotel. that’s when I noticed that I was quite near at the beach so I knew that at some point on my holiday, I would need to buy a swimsuit, but I wasn’t really that stressed about that part. It was the feeling that I needed a job. “I couldn’t just be doing nothing. I need to at least be a little bit active. What about I try find an easy job like babysitting that’s perfect babysitting look up some websites of babysitting”I thought to myself. so once I arrived to my hotel, I got to my room straight away and had a look around my room in case anything fishy was going wrong, but as I could see everything was going to plan. I then unpacked my bags with all my shoes, clothes, dresses, and all of that dress inside and as I was getting on my night clothes, well not my clothes dress clothes to go into catch some dinner. I’ve suddenly heard a strange dripping liars. I thought it was the sink, but when I checked in the bathroom, the sink was working perfectly fine and there was no dripping noises coming from there, so I didn’t think too much about it and I went down and had my dinner now when I arrived my dinner back to my hotel room, I realised that the dripping noises were still going on and now I was a bit concerned, so I called up the maid of this room and asked her if she knew anything about the dripping noise, she said no that’s a bit peculiar and asked me if I’m alright still staying in this room or if I would like to change rooms I said I was fine for now but I knew something was going wrong. Well something must go wrong if I didn’t know what the sound was, nor did the maid who’s in this room 24 seven when I’m gone that’s a bit strange, but I don’t think much about it. I had a good nights rest and wake up early in the morning around six-ISH I went down and had my breakfast. The dripping nose had stopped for awhile, but then when I came back after the beach, it was still there, so I told my maid again and she was like. Are you sure you still wanna stay in this room and I was like yeah it’s nice room it’s very large but the only thing I don’t like about it is that flipping noise but I will still stay here so after a couple of days gone past I finally got the job that I wanted the babysitting job, and my first night would be a rich person‘s house I think the name is Betty or something and she wanted me to babysit her two children, Samantha and Sam. They’re both really similar names. And of course you could tell one was a girl and one was a boy. as I approached the house that I was babysitting. I realised that it was huge. It had at least three or four levels on it and through the window. It looked like there was actual lift that you can go on the floors too. How cool is that? I wish I had a house like that anyway back to the house I rang the doorbell and straightaway. A peculiar person came with a maiden dress on, and she said.  “ hello there, are you Mrs jarrett ?” She asked I replied back saying “yes it is can i come in ?”  She didn’t say much after that she just open the door wider and put her hand out like he was going to one of the rich hotels, and there was loads of servants everywhere like that. I was sure that I would get a large tip tonight, hopefully anyway, after going through the door and entering a large ballroom I suddenly saw the beautiful girl that I suppose would be Betty and indeed it was. She has a lovely red gown on so she clearly was going out with someone and it must’ve been important that Jess looked at least £1000 look like the one that just been released to too.  in standing behind her I could see supposedly the two children, Samantha and Sam as to their mother. They also had lovely gowns on and a suit for Sam. They all looked so wonderful. While I just looked like a scruff with my oversized Hoodie on and some tracksuit bottoms once she had told me everything I needed to know about her house, she set off with her maiden.  go to sudden I heard that strange stripping sound they said no I can’t. I must’ve got used to the sound. I’ve been in this house for ages since I was born. I said and fed them and dinner I realised they’re in the fridge. There was loads of leftover foods Properly and how much we say and how much money clearly I asked them what they wanted for dinner and they both said well. Our mother doesn’t feed us dinner even though we have loads in the fridge but can we have pizza I started to get worried about these two children, they didn’t talk much all of a sudden I got closer to their rooms and I heard that same dripping sound again and again, and again while I was reading them, a bedtime story of the bathroom cracked open. I shocked I walked in, and the dripping sound got louder. I looked up on the ceiling and there was a little hole in the ceiling About the size of a small mouse could fit through and I realised that was what the sound was coming from a small red liquid was dripping from it. I asked the kids what was above their room and they said mum always says that there was a basement up there with a load of Halloween tools from last year, but we don’t celebrate Halloween so that’s when I got even more curious on ehat could be up thereso once i put the chlidren to sleep i had a look around the whole house to see anything on the ceiling that would look like an opening to a loft .after circling around the hoyse at least 6 time i had noticed something on the floor that looked like a note or a notepad so i had picked it up and opened it to the first page but when i opened iit i wouldnt expect there being any writting in it after looking around the house i had not seen one cingluar pen anyone but when i opened it i had the shock of my life i it wasnt the fact that there was writting in there but the bit that worried me the most is that the writting was the same colour as the halloween decoration that had been dripping from above and looked like someone who had just got there finger and wrote a load of random words . I then realised i needed to get to the bottom of this and fast.

Emery's hands trembled as she flipped through the worn pages of the diary, her heart pounding in her chest. The musty scent of the yellowed pages filled her nostrils, a stark contrast to the fresh paint and new furniture that adorned their dream home. The little girl's handwriting started with cheerful recounts of hide-and-seek and birthday parties, but the tone darkened as the entries progressed.

"Dallas, come look at this," Emery called out, her voice a mix of curiosity and unease. Dallas, who was arranging boxes in the corner, walked over with a comforting smile that faltered as he saw the concern etched on his wife's face.

"What's wrong, Em?" he asked, kneeling beside her.

Emery pointed to a drawing, her finger hovering over the page as if afraid to touch it. "These drawings... they're disturbing." The image showed stick figures dangling from a large tree, their faces void of expression. Dallas squinted at the drawing, then at the subsequent pages filled with morbid sketches of lifeless animals. His rational mind searched for explanations, but the chill that crept up his spine was undeniable.

"Maybe it's just a child's way of processing the world... you know, through art," Dallas suggested, though his voice lacked conviction.

Emery nodded, wanting to believe him, but the diary's next revelation—a series of pages splattered with dried blood—sent a shiver down her spine. "This... this is real blood, Dallas." Her whisper barely reached him, but the horror in her eyes conveyed the gravity of the situation.

Dallas took the diary from her, examining the crimson stains. "** What the fuck? Somebody’s fucking with us babe. It’s not real… It can’t be,,**" he said, though the doubt in his voice mirrored Emery's fear. —————

As the days passed, Emery and Dallas experienced a series of inexplicable events that turned their dream home into a waking nightmare. Every night at 3 AM, the radio would burst to life, blaring static and snippets of old-timey music at an ear-splitting volume, even though they had unplugged it and removed the batteries. The first time it happened, they jolted awake, hearts racing as they searched for the source of the noise. By the third night, they lay in bed, wide-eyed, waiting for the inevitable.

The walls of their home, once adorned with smiling photos of their wedding and family, became a gallery of destruction. Without warning, the pictures would crash to the ground, their glass frames shattering into a mosaic of shards, as if an invisible force swept through the halls with malevolent intent.

But it was the laughter that unsettled them the most—the sinister giggle of a little girl that echoed through the empty corridors, a sound that seemed to mock their fear and seep into the very marrow of their bones. They searched the house, top to bottom, but found nothing—no source, no explanation, just the lingering chill of a presence that wasn't their own.

Each night, Emery‘s dreams were haunted by the little girl from the diary. Her innocence smile twisted into a malice grin. Sick of living in fear, and Desperate for answers, they delved into the history of the house and uncovered a horrifying truth. In the late 1960s, the home had been the scene of a gruesome crime—an entire family murdered in cold blood, Each one of them savagely beaten to death with a hammer as they slept. And the perpetrator? The ten-year-old daughter, whose spirit, it seemed, had never left.

Opening the door to the basement of her new house, Ariya noted the staleness in the air and the mould eroding the corners of the room.

After a brief pause at the top of the basement stairs, Ariya made three taunt gesture summoning a small ball of light that hovered above her palm.

Sensing the cold presence that threatened to extinguish her light, she checked for the presence of remnant souls, no such signs appeared.

Releasing a deep sigh, Ariya’s demeanor noticeably relaxed.

After running her fingers through her loose strands of hair, Ariya rolled back the sleeves of her black button-up shirt and got to work.

Rummaging through the weathered crates, she discovered ancient magus reports, out-of-date academy textbooks, and stale sweet treats, whose taste had been lost to the ravages of time.

Upon closer inspection, Ariya uncovered a miniature notebook, so small it could fit in the palm of her hand.

The deep purple cover was adorned by what appeared to be a hand-drawn rose, the flower’s rich golden color complementing the dim gold breaches that covered the notebook's spine.

Intrigued by the immaculate trinket, Ariya made two upward gestures and summoned a light breeze to pry open the cover.

The pages fluttered outward, revealing a scrawled diary entry, the exact details obscured by an inked sketch of an eye that occupied two pages.

Ariya contemplated touching the rough, grainy texture of the pages. However, her aversion to touching someone else's belongings, especially those of a deceased person, hindered her from tracing the ink blots with the tip of her finger.

Stealing a final glance at the pages, Ariya gingerly placed the diary on a side table to attend to later.

• • •

As evening fell, Ariya sorted the last of the miscellaneous bits and bobs, releasing her hair from the binding of her ponytail, allowing her silver locks to fall by her shoulders.

Content with the progress made, she turned to leave, taking the diary with her as she ascended the basement stairs.

With time to compose herself, Ariya brought out tools from her academy knapsack and got to work decoding the diary entry.

[Last night, it was summer. The air was hot, humid, hostile to living creatures such as myself. Oh, how I long to be released from this slow torment that wrings my body dry. Every wind flakes my skin. Every breath scorching my throat. Every second is a second longer I wish I had stayed dead.]

Ariya ran her fingers through her hair, a mixture of excitement and unease evident on her face.

‘How curious, Such descriptions are too vague to pinpoint the exact situation the child faced, if such a diary entry can be taken at face value.’

Taken in by the thought of unraveling a hidden secret of the past, Ariya rummaged through her textbooks, flicking through the pages of the Historical Guide to the Realm that Lies Beyond.

She stopped on page 442, where the subheading read "Purgatorial Nightmares."

‘It seems I have met an acquaintance.’

A glint of anticipation, flashing through her eyes as she chuckled softly to herself.

‘I can only hope they’ve got a bit more spirit to them than the last.’

The new house was great, until we found the diary in the basement. The previous owner’s daughter wrote about monsters, leeching parasites that clung to her while she slept and when she bathed. It seemed there was no escaping them for her. She drew odd shapes, unrecognizable to us, splattered in red spots that I hoped weren’t blood. I tried to avoid touching them as I turned the pages and read her entries in the comfort of my living room, with all the lights on, doors locked and windows shut. I only went into the basement to do laundry, which was once a week. We found the diary in a back corner wall while we were renovating, in a box labeled “Gloria”. There was nothing else in it.

Gloria’s final entry was about how the parasites were taking her over, slowly. The blood became more and more present on the page. She wrote that as they took her over, she bled more and more until she felt like she wasn’t even part of herself anymore. As I read the entry, fresh spots began appearing on the page. I looked up to see a face peering from over one of the blades of the cieling fan, nose dripping blood. Whatever Gloria had looked like, that wasn’t her any longer. I woke up my husband with my scream, but once he came, the bleeding parasite was already gone.

Whistling the tune stuck in my mind, I jauntily sway down the stairs, ignoring the ginormous spiderwebs which are dangling along the walls. After months of sleeping under bridges and in public buildings, I can finally enjoy living in a home all for myself. How I was that lucky? An old man used to talk to me as his source of happiness (not to be conceited, but my jokes made him laugh!!), and for some reason his testament attributed his house solely to me. Well, he didn’t have any family, but it’s still an enormous act, especially for someone like me.

The door of the basement I was never in before creaks as I open it. I stop the whistling. Even though I spent years with getting tough to survive alone, I am still scared of darkness. Therefore, I switch on the massive torch I had brought with me. On the streets it also used to be my only weapon, my best friend against everything evil. Not only once did it save me!

My eyes wander around the dark room. Furniture, lots of boxes, lots of spiderwebs again, and… My gaze falls onto something glittery. A book is laying in the middle of the floor, the cover is showing a pink elf and a… unicorn? I walk towards it and pick it up from the ground. Why would a book like this lay around here? The Lettering says ‘diary’. For a second I want to put it away, I mean, diaries are a very private matter, but then my curiosity wins.

‘11/11/2011: Dear Diary. Today is my birthday. Dad gave me this book, he said I write good. He called me his princess. I am 8 years now. Your Ellie. 20/11/2011: I hate myself, i dont want to live.’ The last entry is followed by the drawing of a skull.

I audibly gasp, caused by my accidentally held breath. The following pages are only worse. The little girl is talking about suicide and also… abuse. Her innocent descriptions of something evil her dad has done to her are paired with drawings. I turn and turn the pages, unable to stop reading about cruelties. As I reach the next page, my shock turns into fear. Something dark, probably red, is splattered over drawings of bodys and skulls. Something red, could it be… blood? My heartbeat fastens, I was by far not ready for this found. The book is shaking in my weak hands. What happened here? Was the friendly grandpa an… abuser? Even worse, a murderer?

The book hits the ground, I pick up my torch and run. Run, as fast as I can. The door shuts loudly behind me and the spiderwebs are fluttering as I hurry up the stairs. In the kitchen I slump on the chair, running my still trembling hand through my hair. “Holy…” I murmur in disbelieve. My hand finds my phone, another gift of the old man. Back then I was so grateful, but what was the reason for his kindness? Why did he want me to live in a house in which basement a diary shows his brutalities? Was it even his? Or did he want me to figure out who ‘dad’ was? Questions over questions are overwhelming my mind.

A vibration in my hand brings me back to reality. My phone is welcoming a new notification. My heart races again, suspecting a scary message on top of all of these horror-movie-worthy events. A relieved sigh leaves my mouth. The message is from a friend who is asking me out on an ice cream date. I really need to clear my head now. A quiet voice in the back of my head suddenly whispers: ‘You should go to the police’ For fucks sake, the voice is probably right. Should I tell my friend that I don’t have time? Or should I enjoy the ice cream and shut my worries out for a while? The chair is comfortable, I should just stay here! I get up and grab my jacket. Time to think about it is what I need. I text my friend that we should meet up right now and leave the house.

My friend and I have been talking for a while, suddenly: “Hey have you heard of it? The police is searching for evidence of murder on a little girl who lived in yout area a bit ago.” My jaw drops slightly open in shock, my eyes widen. “Are you okay?” My friend asks. Am I okay? Oh my- “Sorry.. sorry, I have to go. I’ll text you. Don’t worry. Oh and I’ll pay you back for the ice cream!” I hastily get off my chair. I have to call the police. “911, what’s your emergency?” “The case with the little girl… in the house I inherited I found a diary… of a girl. The diary had pages splattered with blood.”

After answering dozens of questions and handing the diary to the police, I am back at home. Did a murderer give it to me? My questions shall be answered in not too long time.

4 weeks later

“The case is closed. We found the murderer.” I fidget with my jacket. I didn’t know the girl but the case is so terrifying, and considering that the kind man is a suspect… I don’t want to live in the house of a murderer. In the past weeks, I eschewed the basement and I tried to avoid diving too deep into the houses secrets aka drawers. I just used it as a rented place where I could eat and sleep, nothing more. “Thomas Meyers, the previous owner, had some serious drug problems. He used to feel super guilty afterwards, but when he was high… signs are showing he is the murderer, but he is dead anyways now, so…” I shut the phone down. I am going to sell this house. It was too big for me anyways.

I stepped onto the old wooden steps outside my newly purchases house. Despite it being newly purchase, it was far from new. A multitude of renovations were in need for the poor, rundown tragedy. Good thing I love a challenge. My fiancé jogged up to me dragging our luggage behind him. He put a gentle hand on my shoulder. I turned slightly and smiled at him.

“Everything alright darling?” He smirked. “Too big of a job for you, huh?” He teased. His strawberry blonde hair complimented his sapphire eyes. I grinned back at him.

“Never.” Our lips collided together in a deep, passionate kiss. After a moment he pulled back. With that silly smirk still on his face.

“That’s my girl.” His words made my heart beat a little faster, like they always do. “Ready to go inside?” I watched my eyes light up in the reflection of his glasses.

“Yes!” I squealed at the thought that im about to walk into our first home together. He handed me the keys and gestured at the door.

“You do the honors” He smiled. I fiddled with the keys. My excitement was barely contained. The door unlocked with a loud click. I pushed it open and coughed. Dust. Lots of dust. I knew it was going to be something like this, and so did James. I’m glad he still agreed to buy it. I didnt make it a secret I wanted to renovate our house.

“Babe, you know I have faith in you, but can you really renovate this?” The uncertainty is clear in his voice. At least he was honest.

“I can and I will, your faith has not been displaced. Don’t you fret my dear.” I kissed him on the cheek before stepping into the house. He stepped in after me, the sound of our luggage hitting the floor filled the air.

“Okay darling” He yawned. “Its a good thing we already put some of our furniture in here. I am tiiiired” He left our luggage at the front door and flopped onto our velvet colored couch. His immediate snores could be heard. I decided to explore a bit. I passed my sleeping love, the kitchen, a bathroom, and a bedroom. I stopped outside of the eerie looking door to the basement. My hand wrapped around the door knob as it creaked open. Darkness. All I saw was darkness. I grasped my phone tightly while I pulled it out and turned on the flashed, setting light to the darkness of the basement. The stairs creaked under my footsteps. I scanned the room with the light from my phone. What I saw sent chills down my spine. There was a small bed in the right corner. Chains hung from the bed. The sheets were torn and bloody. There was blood on the walls and floor. A little chest sat untouched at the foot of the bed. I walked towards it, each step I took was filled with hesitance and fear. My shaking hands opened the little chest. A pink plush bunny sat in the corner, splattered in blood. There was a journal and a quill. Ink was spilled, mixed with blood. I picked up the journal. I opened it up to the first page.

13/5/1899

Dear Diary,

I found this notebook in my mother’s room, Diary. I am seven years old and my name is Laurel. Today my mother let me out to play for a bit. I’m happy I didn’t make her mad.

I turned the page. A page splattered in blood.

14/5/1899

Dear Diary,

Mother got mad today. I don’t think it was my fault, but she made it seem like it was.

15/5/1899

Dear Diary,

Mother said sorry today. I don’t really believe her though.

16/5/1899

Dear Diary,

It’s so dark and cold down here.

I flipped to the last entry.

9/11/1899

Dear Diary,

This is my last time writing to you. I made mother mad again.

Chills went down my spine once again. I left the basement and locked the door.

I enter the basement of the house. It's old and extremely dusty, like every other part of this house. I wasn't expecting to find something like this in the middle of the woods. Slowly, I descend the staircase, every step creaks under my feet. I look to see if theres anything worth something, maybe some old jewelry i could sell... when i take a step forward i feel something hard under my feet. A dark leather journal, with old yellowish pages. I wipe some dirt off of it, and decide to read a bit. I have nothing else to do, so i don't think anyone will even realize i'm gone. I open the journal and start reading...

16/6/1974 Hello. Im Diana. Im 9 years old. I found this journal in the basement. I think i'll write a diary in it.

29/6/1974 Today mom came back. She hates me, and she’s mostly away for “ work “, so I stay with Grandma. When mom sees me or i try to talk to her she usually hits me, so now i stay silent. Im tired, i think i'll just go to bed now. I usually like listening to mom from the bed in the basement, but tonight I’m not in the mood.

30/6/1974 I saw a mom hugging her kid at the park today. The child looked happy. Mom never hugs me. I'm not usually that happy.

23/8/1974 Mom has been staying for a month now. I've been living in the basement. Grandma told me to stay hidden in the basement, that she would take care of mom, but i was starving, and i was also really thirsty. Since i hadn't eaten all day, i decided to try and go get something super quickly from the fridge. But mom was there, and she saw me. I tried to run, but she grabbed my hair before i could even take a step. Then she slapped me, and started hitting me with a stick she keeps in the hallway. Then she started calling me names, and saying that i'm a stupid mistake. She said i ruined her life. Am i really a mistake? Is mom bad because of me?

Under the entry theres a picture made out of a red liquid... blood. There were two figures drawn on it . One is surely Diana's mother. The other looks like it could be Diana... She's separated form her mother with a a line. I keep on reading.

15/9/1974 Grandma died in hospital today. She was sick, mom said. I don't think she was. I saw what mom did to her, grandma was trying to convince her to be better with me. I don't think it worked.

18/9/1974

It's all my fault, isn't it?

...

I close the book. I turn around, trembling. How could you treat like that your own child? I quickly decide to leave the house. I hope to never see it again.

The handwriting is scrawled and over large. “Minnerva’s Private Thoughts — No Trespassers. That Includes You, Uninvited Reader. Beware of Dogs.” The next page is stuck to the first with something that leaves your fingers sticky. The corner is stubborn and rips. A photo of your house but many years ago. A woman sits in a chair on the lawn, looking away from the camera. You realise her chair is actually an ornate wheelchair. A neat cursive at the bottom reads: Minnerva and Mother, 1927. You look back again and that’s when you see her: a girl standing on the porch, in the shadows. Her dress is blurred because of her distance, her features are hard to make out. But her eyes look right at the camera.

TBC…