Horror is powered by Vocal creators. You support Aaron Lin by reading, sharing and tipping stories... more

Horror is powered by Vocal.
Vocal is a platform that provides storytelling tools and engaged communities for writers, musicians, filmmakers, podcasters, and other creators to get discovered and fund their creativity.

How does Vocal work?
Creators share their stories on Vocal’s communities. In return, creators earn money when they are tipped and when their stories are read.

How do I join Vocal?
Vocal welcomes creators of all shapes and sizes. Join for free and start creating.

To learn more about Vocal, visit our resources.

Show less

I've Been Hearing Strange Noises Coming from My Basement and Things Have Just Been Getting Worse (Pt. 2)

Part 2 of This Series!

We had just moved into the house and my mom, being the extremely superstitious person, she is, decided to get a priest to check out the house. Looking back, I’m not sure why we even needed a priest but what I do remember was the priest warning my mom about three areas of the house, about the “bad energy” he was feeling and that some action needed to be taken.

Now the first area was the room that is now my computer/study room/prayer room. Yes. The priest had told my mom to place a bunch of Chinese prayer items into the room and that would be enough to “fight off the negative energy.”

The second area was the living room. The priest just told us to add Chinese decorations in our living room when we started to furnish it. Lucky red envelopes, upside-Down Fu Characters, paper cuttings, really just things that ward off bad energy. Looking back, he sounded more like an interior designer.

The final place he warned us about was the basement. Now, for the first two rooms, the priest was very calm. But when he entered the basement, he acted differently. I was with my mom and the priest the entire time and for the entire time we were in the basement, I couldn’t help but notice the panic engraved in his eyes. The pitch of his voice went up and he started stuttering while talking, his face turned red as he started profusely sweating and his eyes were dilating, and his gaze was fixed towards one room in the basement. The cold room. No matter where we were or what he was talking about, I would notice his body position and his eyes would constantly be locked into the darkness coming from the cold room as if he was staring at something. The priest came back a couple of days later with two others and they went back into the basement. I’m not sure what exactly they did as my mom told me not to disturb them but for the entire time they were downstairs, I could hear them chanting something over and over again. At one point, I thought I heard a female voice from the basement as well, but my mother was upstairs in the kitchen cooking lunch and my sister was still sleeping. I thought it was just the eeriness of the entire situation just spooking me out and causing my mind to play tricks on me. After about an hour, they came back up, talked to my mom in private, and left. When I asked my mom about everything that happened, she just told me not to worry about it. And that’s what I did. I just ignored it.

After the whole priest thing, things have been normal. But as time went on, my parents stopped praying consistently, and the Chinese decorations got removed and replaced with other pieces of furniture. That’s when all these weird things started happening, such as the footsteps I talked about in my first entry.

Now I’m gonna tell you about the damn ghost girl in my dreams.

The first time she appeared was fucking horrifying.

It was during the Christmas of our first year living there. I was running a really high fever, so I spent most of the days just sleeping while feeling like shit. I remember in my dream, walking into my house but it was strange because my house looked different. It looked old as if it was built in the 1950s. The only thing that let me know I was facing my house were my surroundings. I saw my neighbor's house, my street sign, everything stayed the same except for my house. When I entered the house, the whole layout of all the floors was completely different—it didn’t even look like my house, but I had a sense of familiarity as if I’d been here before. Everything in the house looked old and abandoned, spider webs hanging from the ceilings, lightbulbs hung off a single strand of wiring, dust covered everything, the walls overlapped with rot, and every step I took was accompanied by the creaks from the loose floorboards beneath my feet. Despite not knowing the house at all, I managed to make my way to the basement door and I did nothing but stand in fear as I gazed down into the dark abyss that laid in front of me. After what felt like an eternity of standing, I descended the stairs into the unknown.

Incandescent lightbulbs dimly lit up the dark and huge basement. Piles of cardboard boxes towered over me so there wasn’t much I could really see. They seemed to be placed to create a path for me to follow as if it was almost like a maze and I had to find my way to the end. Curiously, I started making my way in the maze and after what seemed like hours of being lost in the maze, I found the end. What laid in front of me was a torn family photo. The mother looked to be in her early 30s wearing a button up shirt and jeans. The father, who had his face torn out of the photo, was wearing a suit and the little girl, who I presumed to be their daughter, was wearing a dress. I then turned the photo around to see if there was anything on the back and there was! The writing was messy, but I was able to make out the message and it read:

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” I thought to myself. 

Then suddenly, the lightbulbs turned off and I was left completely in the dark. Scared, I stood frozen, still with the photo clenched in the hand. And that’s when I heard it, footsteps. The footsteps grew louder and louder and I knew whoever it was, was making their way towards me right now. The footsteps stopped right in front of me and then, silence. The photo was then quickly and violently taken from my hand, then the voice of a little girl started whispering:

“I’m sorry.”

The whispering quickly crescendoed into screaming. I covered my ears but it was no use. I still heard her screaming and just as quickly the screaming started, it stopped and the lightbulbs turned back on. The girl standing in front of me was the girl from the photo. She was wearing the same dress she had on in the photo, but she looked like a mess. Dirt covered her, the dress that I assumed was supposed to be white now looked grey and ragged. Her long, black hair was tangled up and wet. She had her head down as stretched her hand out towards me, gesturing me to touch it. I slowly reached my hand out to hold hers and just as I was about to make contact, she looked up and whispered one more time.

“I’m sorry.”

And then she lunged forward at me.

I woke up, completely covered with sweat as I tried to understand what I had just experienced.  

Now Reading
I've Been Hearing Strange Noises Coming from My Basement and Things Have Just Been Getting Worse (Pt. 2)
Read Next
My Review of 'Bird Box'