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I've been friends with Michael for a long time now. We grew up on the same street, went to the same school, and now we're in our mid 20's. As much as I hate to say it, I trust him more than my own brother. And it is for this reason that I believed him when he told me something extremely strange one day. Mike is an honest guy, and has always been a straight shooter with me especially. So I listened when he told me that he was being haunted.
Something had been tormenting him for 3 years now, and after he told me a flood of memories came back. The source of his plight went back to the night he called me in a frantic state.
“John? John! You there??!”
“Yeah, it's me. What's wrong?” My voice was groggy from having being woken up.
“You wouldn't belie-believe what just....ahhh. It can't be real...”
“Whoa, whoa slow down.”
“It spoke to me, it...it, I-ahh...”
“Hey, just come over and we'll talk about it.”
Twenty minutes later, Mike was at my house. He and some friends went urban exploring, and decided it would be a good idea to involve a Ouija board. I declined because the idea of going into abandoned houses creeped me out enough, let alone a spirit board being involved. Bad decisions were made, and thankfully no one got hurt. In the end, Mike and those friends with him that night never hung out again.
“So, the weird stuff started when you asked a question?”
“Yeah...I was a little scared to ask anything at first. You know, I didn't want to admit I was scared. Saying you can be brave in a creepy abandoned house with a Ouija board is one thing. It's a whole other beast when you're there.”
“What did you say?”
“...you're going to be mad at me.”
“Go on. Try me.”
“I asked...if it knew how long we would live.”
“Mike, you're never supposed...”
“I know, alright! I just...uhh, I wanted to impress the guys. After I asked the question, the planchette moved to 'yes,' and we heard a loud knock on the walls.” I looked directly into Michael's eyes, and I knew right away he wasn't making it up.
“So...after that?”
“I asked if it wanted to hurt us.”
“Oohhhhh.”
“Yeah. I don't know if that antagonized it or what, but a door slammed and the planchette moves to 'yes” over and over again.”
“Oh, man...”
“I asked if it was responsible for shutting the door and it said 'yes,' but it was out loud. All of us heard it and jumped up. Then the laughter starts....reverberating through the entire house. It was coming from everywhere all at once. A chair slid toward us, a grandfather clock fell over, everything started going crazy. I don't know why, but it seemed like I was the one that made everything go haywire.”
It was at this point that I remembered hearing that spirits and dark entities tend to feed on negative energy. Mike has a lot of dark stuff in his past, so it wouldn't surprise me if that was the reason. I didn't bring this up, as I didn't think it would help and I didn't want Mike thinking of other horrible things along with his current predicament.
“So, everyone just high-tailed it outta there?”
“In the end, yeah. But there was one other thing.”
“...?”
“Before I left the house, I grabbed the planchette and asked it to leave us alone.”
“And?”
“It said 'no.' So I asked it why, and it said 'just you.' This was all on the Ouija board, so I told it 'goodbye' with the planchette and folded it up. When I started to leave, it spoke out loud...but only to me. No one else heard it. It said 'I'll be waiting for you.' You should have heard it's voice....it was like cold ice scraping a window, but that still doesn't...”
I waited a moment for him to regain his composure.
“Don't worry, man. The Ouija board is up, right?”
“Yeah. I put it in my closet.”
After that night, I didn't hear any more about his strange experience. Yet, it was years later when Mike called me to simply say.
“It's back again,” the shakiness of his voice alarmed me.
“Wait, what? What are you talking about?”
“That thing....from the Ouija board. It never left.”
Mike came over and we spoke almost al night. Apparently, Mike had been haunted by this thing for years since the Ouija board incident. He thought he was losing his mind at first, so he didn't mention it to anyone. It actually explained some things, because I noticed that Mike had lost weight and just seemed more closed off. Considering he was always open with me, I didn't pry any further.
The haunting first started with just sounds. Every night, Michael would be woken up by a pounding at his door. He would call out, and no one would answer. When he would check, no one would be there. One night, he looked through his peephole to find a bloodied man standing there. He even called 911, believing it to be a man in trouble. But no one was there, according to anyone but Michael. He watched in disbelief as firefighters arrived at his door with the horrible, bloody man standing right beside them. They couldn't see nor hear him, it was only Michael that could.
He'd even tried communicating with this thing. It would only reply with a gurgled, sinister laughter or call out to him.
“Miii-chael! Miiii-chael! Come talk to me, Michael!”
The voice would always say his name in a sing-song manner, taunting him malignantly. It was never-ending, and Mike was at his wit's end. He'd seen doctors and psychiatrists, and there was nothing medically wrong with him. They would insist on giving him medicine to help him sleep though, because this thing woke him up every night. My first suggestion was getting rid of or burning the Ouija board, but he'd left it at a previous address. A priest had even blessed him, but it accomplished nothing.
“What about with other people staying at your place? Do they hear it too?”
“No, they never hear it. It's only me.”
“Man, something has it out for you.”
We sat in silence for a while, and a thought occurred to me.
“Hey, you know what you could use? A get-away.”
“A get-away? So fun will scare this thing off?”
“No, I just mean....you need a change of scenery. Something to get your mind off this. Besides, these things feed on negative energy and having a good time would be a good middle finger to this thing. How about we go to the mountains?”
“The mountains....that...actually sounds nice.” A smile crept onto his face. It seemed like an eternity since I'd seen him look so hopeful.
“Cool. I'm paying...you've earned it. Let your work know in a month you're going on a ski trip.”
And that's exactly what we did. Before we knew it, a month had passed and we were having the time of our life in the Rockies. I do confess it's something I'd been wanting to do anyway, but now was the time to at least give Mike some reprieve. He was still haunted by the Door Man throughout the month, but he said it was a little easier knowing something good was on the horizon.
One night, the snow was hitting the cabin especially hard. Mike and I laid in our bunkbeds, chatting idly about our day. I joked that if the Door Man knocked, he'd had to contend with the snowstorm to be heard. He chuckled, and we talked late into the night. We felt like kids having a sleepover again, without a care in the world. Before long, our talk had longer and longer spaces in between when we both began to slowly fade. Then....
BOOM! BOOM!
I shot up in bed, my heart racing. My eyes took a moment to adjust to the dark, and I looked down to see Mike sitting up in bed with his eyes wild and crazy.
“Mike...?” I said. He looked back at me, almost seeming to look through me. “Mike?!”
“Yeah....?” He came to this time, seeming to wake up fully.
“Did you hear that?” I said, unsure of why I was whispering.
“Yeah.”
We sat in silence, awaiting the booming sound.
“Maybe a tree just...”
BOOM! BOOM!
This time it was unmistakable....two loud bangs on the door. Mike and I looked at each other, and my throat instantly went dry. I'd always believed Mike when he told what was happening, but actually experiencing it...I felt totally thrown off by it.
“I'm sick of this,” Mike throw off his covers. He began throwing his clothes on, and I was instantly confused.
“Mike?”
Rage was practically steaming out of him as he threw on his jacket and gloves.
“I'm tired of being afraid.” He muttered as he put his shoes on.
“Man, I don't know if it's a good...”
“John, I have to do this.”
Without another word, Michael stormed off toward the front door. I slipped out of bed and followed suit. Mike stopped at the door, his hand barely touching the handle. He looked frozen, and I came up beside him and put a hand on his arm.
“Maybe being angry is just what it wants.”
“I...I don't know.” Mike hesitated for a moment and stepped back. I have no idea what possessed me to do it, but I suddenly had to know if I could see this thing for myself. Hands quivering, I pulled back the curtains to the window....and soon wish I hadn't.
Standing at the door to our cabin—in the middle of nowhere—was a man covered in blood, swaying back and forth at the door. It was dark and hard to see his face, but from the state of his body it may have been too hard to tell, anyway. His limbs were bent into horrible positions, as if someone had put him through a machine that crushed all his joints.
“You don't have to do this alone, you know.”
The responsive expression of his face was one of determination and fierceness. Had he said anything, it would have been “I got this.”
Another loud BANG shocked us out of the moment, and I stepped back. In one swift motion, Mike turned the handle, threw the door open, and closed it behind him. There's no point in going into the amount of obscenities that came out of Mike's mouth, but we'll say that a sailor would probably have asked him to tone it down. Michael made it perfectly clear to the bloody ghost that he was not welcome and no longer had a hold over him. I'd heard that approaching a vengeful spirit in this manner was a good way of not giving it any more of your energy. Perhaps Mike thought this approach may do some good.
Unfortunately, there was another BANG, but this was much different. I replayed the sound again in my head, and the realization hit me that the familiar cracking of a tree branch preceded the louder BANG. By the time my mind caught up with everything and I felt the crash of the tree, it was too late.
“Mike!” I screamed and reached for the door. Everything went hazy as I threw open the door and was greeted with the biggest tree I'd ever seen in person. All I could recall from that point was screaming and crying...more crying...blue lights...someone asking me questions....then it was a week later. For a little bit, time didn't exist the same.
Before I knew it, I was standing at my dear friend's closed casket with one hand placed in solemn remembrance. None of it seemed real...but all the constant check-ins and “how are you doings” constantly reminded me of what happened. My mind wanted to block it all out, pretend it was just some bad dream.
A year went by after Mike's death with nothing of supernatural interest. I had started seeing someone, and we'd gotten pretty close in a short amount of time. The subject of Mike's death somehow came up in conversation, and I knew it wouldn't be long before I would disclose the strange, haunting circumstances of his demise to Sarah. There was no way around it.
“You're really not making any of this up, are you'?” She said, hardly able to believe it.
“Not a single bit. I hardly believe it happened myself.”
“How have you been, you know...dealing with it?”
“Maybe I haven't....thinking about it hasn't done me any good, though. As strange as it's all been...there's no explanation for it. It's better for me to just move on and forget....”
BOOM! BOOM!
We both turned out heads at the sound of harsh knocking at my door. The rhythm of it, the feel of it....I knew exactly what it was. My face turned white as a sheet, and I had to prop myself up to keep from fainting.
“John?” Sarah's eyes widened.
In a matter of seconds, the temperature suddenly dropped substantially. We watched our breathing for a moment, now visible in wispy clouds.
“It's him. It's got to be.”
We stood still in tense anticipation, frozen in fear. I knew exactly what I had to do.
“John....?” She pleaded with me, but I ignored her. My body moved in a trance towards the door, hungering for the cold brass of the doorknob on my hand. I blocked out my girlfriend's statements of disapproval, now a million miles away. The doorknob was cold on my hand, so very damn cold. For just a flicker of a moment, I came to my senses and began to will myself to let go of the door and step away. That was when I heard the voice.
“John......John. Come out and see me, John.”
The voice was familiar and strange all at once. More than anything, it was hypnotic. Never had I known of something so terrible and yet, had to look so badly. That dark curiosity was gnawing at me, ripping me open to find out the truth despite everything that said that I shouldn't.
“No...I-I don't want to,” I whispered. Tears rolled down my face as I fought against the morose urge. I tried so hard to resist, but I just couldn't help it.
Hands shaking uncontrollably, I slowly moved the covering for the peephole aside.
I leaned forward...and looked outside...
Having no control over myself, I opened the door and soon everything became clear....
All I remember next is going outside and seeing....him. Then everything went black....for how long I have no idea. The only thing I could explain was that everything felt...empty. A vast vacuum of time and space. It felt like an eternity and yet no time at all when it all changed again.
I found myself standing outside a home....my girlfriend Sarah's home. The imperceivable, compelling force willed me to move forward. I staggered toward the door, dragging my injured foot along the pavement. It was dark outside and all the lights were out, so I assumed it to be very late at night. Before long, I dragged my broken body to the door.
And so I knocked.
BOOM! BOOM!
A puppet to some unseen force, I watched as the lights in the house turned on.
“Sarah, NO!” Was the only thought in my head, and I repeated it over and over. Yet, it mattered not how often I screamed it. I was a passenger in my own ghastly body. A face peeked out of the window, but I wasn't sure who it was. Then I banged on the door again.
BOOM! BOOM!
“Who is it??!” I heard the sound of Sarah's voice calling from the other side of the door.
I screamed inside my head, screamed harder and louder than I ever screamed aloud in my entire life. Yet, no amount of screaming stopped any of it.
“Sa----rah...” I called out to her. The voice was alien to me, hauntingly unfamiliar.
“John?” She responded with surprise and a glint of hope in her voice.
I stood silently swaying as I heard the dead bolt being unlatched. The doorknob slowly turned and all I could do was wait and scream....
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