A Ghost's Tale Above All

Sitting on a pillow in the middle of the attic, Hunter slid a large dark wooden chest over to her. She blew the dust off the top of the chest to reveal the name Juliana carved into it. Slowly she lifted the heavy lid; cringing slightly at the gentle creak it emitted. As she sifted through the countless shirts, candles, and blankets, Hunter came upon a bound leather journal. The tan leather warmed as she lifted it out of the chest. Slowly she unbound the leather straps and opened to the first page. The writing was very neat and clean, as if the person writing it had all the time they needed. Slowly Hunter began reading the first page.

Dear Journal,
You are my last chance at staying sane. I have no one else to turn to. My mother wouldn’t understand and my sisters already think I’ve lost my mind, no need to give them any evidence to prove they’re right. I don’t exactly understand what happens myself; all I do know is that when I get overly emotional things start to move. And sometimes when I touch things I get flashes/visions, sometimes they scare me.
That’s why I am here, sitting next to the lake in the back woods of the farmhouse. I feel at peace here. For the past 10 years of my short 18 years I have only ever felt peace here. The sparkling blue water, the gentle green trees, and the sounds of nature all around. . . all of it just puts my spirit at peace. It’s the only place I have. . .

A loud slam made Hunter jump causing her to drop the journal. Her startled blue eyes looked around to find the corner window blown open. Slowly she got up and made her way over to the window. A warm breeze blew across her face as she stood looking out the window at the front yard. The willow tree out front swayed in the breeze. The leaves danced lightly as a slight shadow crossed the yard.
Quickly Hunter shut the window, telling herself that it was a bird or something of the sorts. She latched the window shut and looked back towards the journal, a chill running down her back. Slowly she walked back over to Juliana’s journal and sat back down on the pillow. Carefully Hunter picked up the old journal, looking at the page the journal had fallen open to. The writing was frantic, as if it was written in haste. There were dark spots littered throughout the pages, obscuring some of the words. Gently Hunter ran her fingers over some of the red spots and gasped as the familiar sensation of a vision overtook her.

Tree branches whipped in the wind, dark and menacing. The sky was black, no stars to be found. A scream echoes through the night darkened forest.

The surroundings rushed by.

A lake sparkles in the moonlight. “Somebody help me!” a young girl screamed out as she ran into the small clearing, blood gushing from a cut on her face, neck, and arms. Her dark hair was matted to her head. “HELP” the girl screamed again. A dark figure walked out of the trees. All but his face light by the moonlight. “There is no one to save you, witch!” the man spat. The girl whipped around to face the man. “Why are you doing this?” she cried. “Who are you?!” she continued as she backed further away from the man. “To rid the world of your kind, why else would you kill a witch?” the man replied as he started to walk faster towards the girl. “No!” the girl screamed as she turned and ran into the woods at the far end of the clearing.

The surroundings blurred as they flew by.

The girl pulled herself up the stairs to the attic of the old farmhouse. Pounding footsteps were heard close behind the girl. Quickly she ran through the door and closed it, locking it as fast as she could. The girl ran over to the wooden chest that was in the corner, threw open the lid, and pulled out a tan bound leather journal. She started scribbling down words as fast as her blood covered hand would allow. Blood drops rained down on the page she was writing on, covering parts of words that looked like a basic description.
The door slammed open and the man from the forest lurked into the room carrying what looked like a dagger with some blood on the blade. He quickly closed the distance between him and the girl in two large strides and wrapped his free hand and arm around her upper body. He moved back a few steps due to her struggling then plunged the dagger into her temple. “Burn in hell with the rest of your kind, witch!” the man hissed as he let the young girl’s body fall to the floor into a motionless heap. Blood pooled around her head as the man pulled his dagger out of her temple and wiped it off on his shirt. Slowly the man turned and left the attic.

Hunter gasped as tears ran down her face. She dropped the journal and wrapped her arms around her knees.