(horror based. Feedback much appreciated, maybe I'll make it longer?)

15/03/22

It’s move-in day! Dad got me this diary for my birthday and I guess it’s time to use it. He wrote, I quote, "_For my dearest daughter Avery, I love you very much_."

I’ve been waiting for this moment my entire life : moving out from my parent’s place! No more rules or tip-toeing out of the house, lol.

It's time.

19/03/22

Well, I’m here.

It’s cozy now that all my stuff's unpacked. Though these stupid workers scratched my mirror as they were putting it down...

Change is hard but every time I struggle with it, I remind myself **why I left**.

No, I won't talk about it. I promised myself I'm leaving it all behind.

Besides, I *followed the rules.*

22/03/22

Okay, I need to talk about it.

Last night, I swear I saw something from the corner of my eye, but when I turned, nothing was there.

I've also been hearing strange noises.

Faint at first, like whispering in the walls, but growing louder. Closer.

Maybe I'm only imagining things. Like I said, I followed the rules— I did everything right. It has to be some sort of side effect, right?

It still haunts me and my therapist said it's a normal reaction to a traumatic event. Wrong term. It's supernatural, but no one believes me.

It all started on a cold winter Tuesday night with my high school friends: **Alex, Julie, Alina and Steve**.

I miss them deeply.

Alex, the genius, brought a Ouija board to our sleepover. I mean, who hasn't done that before? Anyways, we played with it in my old dusty basement. It was fun as we were controlling the planchette, talking to a nonexistent soul, though, sometimes it felt like it was actually moving by itself.

Then, the lights went out. I thought Alex went to the generator to turn the electricity off and scare us.

"Alex, come back, before a demon catches you," we laughed

And _he_ laughed too.

From a distance.

It wasn't his laugh. **Flat**. **Monotonous**. **Wrong**.

As the lights turned back on, we realized Alex wasn't in the room anymore. I tried calling him on my phone but it looked like I never had his contact in the first place— like he never existed.

I can't keep writing. This feels too real.

23/03/22

I moved the scratched mirror out of my bedroom.

Sometimes, I see a shadow watching me from inside.

Maybe the meds aren't working.

Maybe something's wrong with this place.

24/03/22

My therapist says journalling is a way to cope with my emotions.

Fine.

We searched for him the entire night. By morning, **the ouija board was gone**. But the wall besides me had something written on it— in blood.

Alina knew latin and read it aloud: "_Curse anyone who lets me out with the pain of grief and loosing oneself_"

For weeks, we've tried to find a logical reason to these events.

But then **Alina disappeared.**

Then **Julia**.

Then **Steve**.

No one noticed. **Not the police**, not even their** families**.

The entire world forgot them. Except me.

I'm grieving ghosts. Every evidence of their existence, gone, just like that.

I was desperate to not only prove them wrong, but get my friends back, so I did some research. I found this ancient book on a certain demon— one I can't name for my own safety. It all made sense. I knew how to get my friends back.

The ritual should've worked.

The last step was to leave the place where it all happened and forget about it. **I must forget.**

The whispers are **so loud** I haven't slept in days.

I want to **tear my ears off.**

28/03/22

It's not just the whispers now. I feel it watching me. It's hard to forget something when it's following you around like it's playing a game you never chose to participate in.

**Fuck the rules**.

If it won't leave me alone, then I'll finish what I started.

I miss them so much.

30/03/22

No medication can take the pain away.

I found the book again. I know what needs to be done.

31/03/22

It's happening tonight. I assembled everything I need : the **bodies**, the **candles**, the **book**. And most importantly, my **memory**. If I can't forget, I'll simply stop existing. A desperate trade: my life for theirs. I don't care if it takes my soul.

It's time.

05/08/28

Hey. I found this old diary in my room, next to a Ouija board, maybe it belonged to someone?

The only words written are "For my dearest daughter, Avery, I love you very much".

I wonder who Avery is. It sounds familiar.

Anyways, my name is Alex and I just moved in today with my friends Julie, Alina, and Steve.