My Middle School Had Its Own Variation of Bloody Mary, But She Was Real

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📅 Published on August 13, 2019

"My Middle School Had Its Own Variation of Bloody Mary, But She Was Real"

Written by N.B. Smith

Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).

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Estimated reading time — 10 minutes

Everyone knows the story of Bloody Mary and everyone knows how to “summon” her: say her name three times in front of a mirror with the lights off. Of course, there are slight variations to the exact story depending on where you live, but it’s all basically the same, right?

My school was no different. A bunch of us girls in the 7th grade would gather up in the bathroom at least once a week, turn off the lights, and say her name three times. Of course, nothing happened, but I always kept my eyes squeezed closed, so even if something did happen, I wouldn’t have seen it. We were a bit morbid, thinking back on it.

I knew that it wouldn’t work, but I also knew that we shouldn’t be tempting fate. The urban legend states that she would kill you or scratch your eyes out, so why exactly would we even have wanted to try to summon her? I guess kids do stupid things when they’re young, but that’s no excuse for how far it went.

Like I said, it started with a bunch of us in 7th grade doing the “ritual” in the bathroom closest to our 4th-period class. The six of us had all met in 4th period at the beginning of the year, and since 4th period was right before lunch, we would all slip away and do our “ritual” without being bothered. Bloody Mary, or Mary, as we began to call her, became almost like a long-lost friend of ours. I don’t think that my friends knew that I kept my eyes closed, though, and I wasn’t about to tell them that it was possibly my fault that it wasn’t working.

Nothing happened over the span of a few months. No Mary appearance, although we tried a bunch of variations. At least, until the day that Cassie – the unofficial “leader” of our little group – ran up to me in a huff outside before school started. “Hey, Nikki,” she said, “I found a real way to get Mary to appear! I already told the others, but we’ve got to meet at the outside bathroom by the pavilions to make it work.” I tried to question, to protest, but the bell had rung and she was already walking away. “Just meet us there, okay?” she called over her shoulder.

The bathroom by the pavilions was the worst. It wasn’t connected to the main school building, so it had no air conditioning and, even worse, no “inside” lights. The only source of light was provided by a single flickering bulb and small grates that allowed the sunlight to filter in, and to top it off, the whole place smelled like a porta-potty. The outside bathroom was truly awful.

But, I did as I was told and met the girls right after the bell rang for lunch. Instead of turning the light off immediately, though, Cassie gathered us all up in front of the row of sinks. Gesturing to the middle sink in the row of five, she said, “I finally figured it out. My brother’s girlfriend came over the other night, and she said that she and her friends were able to see Mary here!”

“And she lived?” “Why here instead of any other mirror?” “What did she say happened?”

Bethany, Nia, and Erica all spoke at once, and Cassie waved a dismissive hand. “She didn’t go into so much detail, because my parents were out and she was going into my brother’s room. But, she said that we first have to acknowledge Mary’s baby, and then it will work.”

“Mary’s… baby?” I asked, not quite understanding but definitely not wanting anything to do with a ghost baby.

“Yeah, that’s what she said. It’ll take a few days but she said it will for sure work.”

“Okay, how do we do it then?” Nia chimed in from the back.

I was already somewhat apprehensive being in the very isolated, very creepy outside bathroom, but I felt my stomach immediately drop when Cassie said, “First, we have to summon Mary’s baby.” My body instantly wanted to flee, and I wish that I had trusted my instincts.

Instead, I stayed silent and let Nia ask, “Wait, I thought that Mary killed her babies, didn’t she?”

“Well, yeah, but in death she still wants them,” Cassie replied. “I guess.”

“Okay, so how do we do this baby thing, and why do we have to do it here?” Erica asked, her nose scrunching up at the smell.

Cassie sighed and said, “I don’t know. Tyler’s girlfriend said something about the baby being born prematurely and being stuffed down this sink without anyone knowing.” Bethany opened her mouth to say something, but Cassie continued, “I know, okay? I know it sounds dumb, but she said it worked, and what we’ve been doing hasn’t, so we can at least try it, right?”

We all shrugged in agreement, and after looking at each of us directly, Cassie began again. “Okay, so first, we have to have the water on, cold water only.” She turned on the tap, then pointed at Bethany, who was closest to the door. “Then, lock the door and turn the light off.”

When Bethany did so, Cassie instructed us all to gather in front of the dirty mirror above the running middle sink. “Okay, now hold your arms like you’re holding a little baby. Look straight into the mirror and rock your arms back and forth while I say the words. We should feel a weight in our arms, and then we have to release ‘it’ over the sink like Mary did. Ready?”

She looked at our reflections in the mirror, gave a nod in response to ours, and began to recite:

“Baby Blue, Baby Blue,
Your mommy’s gone away.
Baby Blue, Baby Blue,
Please come here to stay.

“Baby Blue, we’ll care for you,
We’re sorry your mommy could not.
Baby Blue, please come to us,
We promise that you won’t rot.

“Baby Blue, your mommy’s gone,
But we will heal your pain.
Baby Blue, please come to us,
Your mommy is insane.”

The rhyme itself was disturbing, but even worse was the squeal that rang out from the faucet almost as soon as Cassie had finished her recitations. Surely it was the sound of a whining pipe, but it sounded sort of like a baby crying…

“Now!” Cassie yelled, and we all released our arms and bolted toward the door.

Once safely outside, Cassie looked at us and grinned, “I think it worked! We have to do this again, every day for the next week or so, but I think it worked!” We all looked at each other, unsure if we had all experienced the same thing, and then Bethany spoke up. “What was that sound? Was it the baby or just the pipes?”

Cassie shrugged. “I don’t know, but once we finish this, it’s really going to work! Let’s meet here at the same time tomorrow.” With that, she turned and began walking to the cafeteria, and we all slowly followed.

The next day, we met at the outside bathroom again at the same time. This time, when Cassie turned on the faucet, the squealing began immediately. It truly sounded like a baby crying and I was freaked out immediately, but Cassie shut down my objections and told Bethany to lock the door and turn off the light. As soon as the lights were off I squeezed my eyes shut.

Cassie recited her poem and I tried my best to block out the sound of the crying baby-sounding squeal of the water faucet. What I couldn’t brush off, though, was the weight that I had felt suddenly placed in my cradled arms. When Cassie said, “Now!” I was the first to the door. I tried to ask the girls about it later, but none of them would honestly answer whether or not the pipe sounded like a crying baby, or if any of them had felt the weight in their arms.

We repeated this for the next few days, but I no longer cradled my arms. I may have imagined it, but I did not want to feel that weight again. After Friday’s ritual, Cassie grinned at us all and said, “Monday should be the final one. We’ll finally see Mary!”

We all talked over the phone during the weekend, but Erica was the only one who felt anything similar to the apprehension that I did. She didn’t tell the others, though. Only me. So, when Monday came around, I guess that I wasn’t the only one feeling the growing dread in the pit of my stomach.

The clock ticked by and the anxiety grew worse, until it was finally time. I felt like I was going to vomit. We all met up at the bathroom and followed Cassie in. Her confidence seemed to spread throughout us and while it did help a bit, I felt like the other girls had gotten the majority of it.

I still ended up in front of that mirror, terrified. Cassie turned the sink on, and I didn’t even wait for Bethany to turn the lights off before I closed my eyes. The sound of the baby crying began almost at the same time that Cassie began to recite the poem.

“Baby Blue, Baby Blue,
Your mommy’s gone away.
Baby Blue, Baby Blue,
Please come here to stay.

“Baby Blue, we’ll care for you,
We’re sorry your mommy could not.
Baby Blue, please come to us,
We promise that you won’t rot.

“Baby Blue, your mommy’s gone,
But we will heal your pain.
Baby Blue, please come to us,
Your mommy is insane.”

It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room in an instant and I fought to breathe through the hot thickness. I heard someone whimper softly, Erica maybe, but I refused to open my eyes, and so I couldn’t be sure. I stood completely motionless, with Cassie and Nia on my left, and Bethany and Erica on my right.

The events that followed are something that I only allow myself to think of in my darkest moments, but that will always be imprinted in my mind.

“Drop the baby!” Cassie yelled at the same time that someone on my right began to scream. Shortly afterwards, someone else – I think it was Nia – began to scream as well.

“Drop the baby, now!” Cassie yelled out again, and through the screams, I heard a new sound. It sounded like an old t-shirt being ripped up, but as if the fabric was wet. “No!” someone yelled, and then there was a new sound, a bubbling, gurgling, wet noise.

I wrapped my arms around myself and took a step back away from the other girls. The ripping sound increased in frequency, and the cry of the baby became more shrill.

“Mary…” I heard Cassie mutter, followed by another scream. “My eyes!” someone on my right yelled out, and I couldn’t take anymore. I raced towards the bathroom door, blindly running my hands against it to find the deadbolt. There was a horrible, wet snarling sound behind me, and I had just touched my fingers against the cold metal of the lock, when I felt something grab me by the shoulder, sending a searing pain down my arm before I felt my body being thrown backwards. I must have hit my head because I passed out soon afterwards.

I woke up in the hospital with my parents by my side. We were soon joined by police officers who wanted to talk to me about what had happened. My father tried to protest, “She’s been unconscious for five days and she’s obviously been traumatized! Can’t this wait?”

“Sir, I understand that this is troubling,” the officer replied, “but how would you feel if you were the father of one of the other girls? Please, sir, she may be able to provide crucial information about all of this.”

My father stepped aside with a sigh and let one of the officers approach my hospital bed. “Hi, Nikki,” he said with a soft smile. “I need to ask you about what went on in the bathroom, about what happened to you and your friends. Do you think that you can do that for me?” I nodded slightly before asking, “Did something happen to my friends? Are they okay?”

The officer’s eyes briefly darted away from me, and I continued, “You aren’t going to believe me when I tell you, and I didn’t see anything anyways because my eyes were kept shut the entire time. I really, truly didn’t see anything. I promise. I only… I only heard things.”

The policeman continued smiling warmly and said, “It’s okay, Nikki. Just tell me everything that you heard, then.”

I told him the entire story, about Mary and our ritual, and as I went on my parents’ faces became more horrified. I was embarrassed, and I was ashamed, but mostly I was scared of what may have happened to Cassie and the others. When I had finished describing everything, I asked the officer about my friends. He apologized and said that he wasn’t allowed to discuss it with me. The cops left the room, so I asked my parents the same question and it caused my mom to break out in tears.

I ended up not finding anything out until a few weeks later, when I was checked into an in-patient mental health facility for a mandatory stay of at least 90 days. I had no idea what was going on, but I saw a therapist daily to discuss what went on in the bathroom. After the first few days of me repeating the details over and over during our long session, the therapist finally began to discuss what happened with me.

Some of my friends had been hurt that day. One of them had died. My therapist really wanted me to name which friend had done this to the rest of us, citing my horribly bruised shoulder as proof that someone physically in the bathroom had done this. She wouldn’t accept my explanation of Mary. I’m pretty sure she thought it was Cassie.

Little by little my therapist slipped the details. “I’m sorry, Nikki, but I just can’t accept that something supernatural attacked you and your friends. How, then, could Bethany be blinded but not the others? How could Erica’s cheek be mutilated at nearly the same time? Do you believe that a supernatural being attacked all of you at the same time, but with different attacks? All within just a few minutes? How would that be possible?”

I had no answer.

During another session, she asked, “How then could Nia be murdered directly beside all of you if the same entity was attacking both Erica and Bethany? Are you sure that you didn’t see anything at all?”

And at another, she said, “Nikki, Nia was standing on the farthest left side, right next to Cassie. Her body was cut open in ribbons. You had your eyes closed the entire time. As you’ve said many times, you only recall Cassie saying things related to Bloody Mary and the ritual, as you call it. Would it be possible that Cassie could have moved without you knowing, say, to your right side, where Bethany was? Is it possible that Cassie had something sharp, like a pair of scissors, something to cut both Nia and Bethany?”

The therapist refused to acknowledge anything that I said. She insisted that I must have been ‘confused’ hearing Cassie’s voice on the left and Bethany’s voice on the right at the same time. She said I must have been ‘mistaken’ when I heard the growling, the snarling, and the terrified voices of my friends as I fumbled to find the lock on the bathroom door. That I must have seen something and couldn’t possibly have kept my eyes shut the entire time.

The therapist was an idiot. I continued to tell the truth, and after 90 days I was allowed to go home. I had missed Nia’s funeral, and I soon found out that Bethany and Erica were leaving the state, while Cassie had been charged and held responsible for Nia’s death, and subsequently confined to a psychiatric hospital. My parents chose to homeschool me.

It’s been a decade, and I try not to think about any of this. In fact, I was able to forget about it for a few years. I was able to live my life normally, albeit avoiding mirrors as much as possible, just living my life and getting by. Until Cassie called me a few days ago.

I don’t even know how she found my number, but she’s left a few voicemails now and hasn’t stopped calling. I listened to one voicemail and heard what she wanted, and now I’m trying to convince myself that I want nothing to do with any of it. She has a plan set and I don’t want to be involved. I don’t. However, I have to admit that I have fantasized occasionally about us all going back and performing the ritual, this time with video evidence.

I’ve always wanted to call Bethany and Erica to ask them what they saw, but I never found the courage. A part of me truly wants to know what actually happened that day, wants to try again and keep my eyes open this time. But I honestly don’t think that I could go through it again. Then again…

Credit: N.B. Smith

🔔 More stories from author: N.B. Smith

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Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).



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