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Why Me?



Estimated reading time — 10 minutes

Why me? I’m pretty sure everybody has asked that question to them self sometime in their short, sad life time.

But this time. I really want to know why me.

It was NEVER suppose to be like this. After all, I was just a 16 year old girl. My life was just beginning, this shouldn’t have been the end. It all started as a practical joke, a dare, something that was suppose to make me appear as a sissy, but being me, I took up the dare. I mean sure, I was a bitch to a majority of the people who weren’t my friends, like the ones who have dared me to do this, but fuck, I hated to look weak or afraid and everybody knew that. But I never knew they would show up to the little slumber party Jessica threw, but then again, they were also her friends. Why didn’t I see it coming? Why do I have to be so stupid!?

It was a cliche dare. Go spend one night in a haunted house.

Jessica, being the caring person she was, was against it instantly. She was always such a ‘scardy-cat’ in their eyes. Now that I actually thought about it, I think they only had her around because of her father being on the school-board and her mother actually being the school principal. But even then, Jessica couldn’t stop them from taunting me of being a chicken. I hate how I prideful I am.

So twenty minutes after they had dared me, we were all standing outside the so called haunted house on Johnson Rd. of Scottville Michigan. It was a old house, built back in the early 1800s last time I checked. It’s dark cracked grey bricks were covered in mold and moss, the windows were all boarded up, and even then, the wood looked like it was rotting. The haunted house couldn’t really be called a house actually, now that I had a good look at it. It was more of a mansion, as it went 5 stories high, not counting the basement, and rumored to be like a maze on the inside. The darker shade of grey roof of the haunted mansion looked like it was going to cave in, and as soon as I had voiced that, the girls that had dared me started their taunts of me being scared again.

Snorting, I had practically shouted that I wasn’t scared, and marched up the stone steps and pulled on the gigantic door handle. After dropping my sleeping bag, I had to tug on the door multiple times to get it open just enough for me to fit through. Turning back around and waving at them with a gigantic grin, I had turned around, picked up my sleeping bag and slid through the crack in the door. Just one look on the inside of the mansion though, and I was about to run back out the doorway. The room was pretty much empty, but the wooden floor was covered by a faded dirty golden rug with many designs, while the walls were a deep faded dirty orange. The curtains were a faded blood red them self. I actually was going to run back out at that point now that I had a good view of everything, but I heard Jessica shout some encouraging words, that were soon followed by sarcastic annoying bullies.

“Good luck Irish!”

“Yeah good luck Irish, don’t die!”

“Not like anyone will miss you!”

“Don’t come back out before sun-rise, Irish!”

“Pfft, how much you wanna bet Irish the Beach will be dead by then?”

“How about 20 bucks?”

“Works for me.”

Feeling angry at the words of the bullies, I had turned around and glared angrily at the ground. Something though, had moved from the corner of my eye. Snapping my head in that direction, I realized I was scared by one of the very fancy, old red curtain that ended up getting caught in the breeze from broken windows partially covered by the wood that was boarded up on the outside.

Feeling stupid that I had gotten scared from a mere curtain, I had sighed and started to wonder what to do. I wasn’t tired at all, seeing as it was only 10pm. Since the house was apparently like a maze, I’d rather not go exploring, and the waiting room was too cold to just sit in. Deciding to just go through one of the many doorways, I had gone opened the one closest to me. Realizing it only lead to a closet full of cleaning supplies, I had closed it and tried the door to the left of it. It lead to some very thin stairs. closing that door, I sighed annoyed, and saw something from the corner of my eye again. Snapping my head to it, goose bumps appeared on my skin, and I was staring into green and blue eyes. Almost tearing up in fear, I had realized it was only just a, ironically black cat.

Taking multiple deep shaky breathes, I had gotten down on my knees and rubbed my middle and pointer finger against my thumb, a little trick I had learned over the years to make kittens come to you. It only stared at me for what felt like eternity, before slowly approaching me. Rubbing the top of it’s head against my fingers, I had scratched it. It was such a stupid mistake I had made.

The second I touched the cat, a door slowly had creaked open. Freezing, I had stared at the door, expecting to see some gigantic monster with a blood thirsty look in it’s eyes. I was wrong. It just lead to the kitchen. Sighing once again at my sissy attitude, I picked up the cat and walked into the kitchen. It was so old fashion, like one of those country kitchen’s you see on the TV of a traditional house made back in the 1900s, which was odd, because this house was made in the 1800s.

Being the stupid one I am, I sat on one of the wooden chairs at a counter, the second I completely sat down though, I heard a door open and close, with soft voices speaking. One was obviously a woman’s, and the other was a male’s.

I could hear the words war, murder, liar, and thief. Soon, I could hear the woman crying. After a minute or two of the crying, the door closed again and the crying faded away. Standing up from the chair in fear, gripping the cat tightly, I marched through the door I came in from, planning on leaving, but as I bent over to pick up my sleeping bag, I heard the crying again, but louder, through the door that had the thin stairs. Another male was speaking to the woman, and since I was much closer, I could hear everything he was saying.

“I’m sorry. missus, but the baby didn’t make i-” As soon as that was said, I heard the woman started shouting, very loudly.

“Don’t tell me that, don’t ever say those words to me!” The goose-bumps on my skin raised more than I thought was ever possible, and with them came shaking and tears of fear in my eyes. I was stuck frozen with fear. Those words started to get louder and louder, as if she was raising her voice with every word she repeated. Soon, my ears had popped, and I had collapsed on the floor, dropping the cat. As soon as I had done that, I heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

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I felt like I was paralyzed, I couldn’t move no matter how much my mind had screamed at me to. The cat though seemed perfectly happy, and ran toward the door, meowing and clawing at it. I was so scared, and as soon as I heard the door handle shake, I had squeezed my eyes shut, and could feel tears slowly leak out.

“Isabelle!” A very soft depressed gorgeous sounding melodious voice had called out to what I believe the cat as soon as the door had swung open. Meowing happily, the owner to the voice had started murmuring even softer than before to the cat. Hearing more footsteps, I heard the male voice from earlier stutter that he was leaving and was sorry for her loss. The male started walking quickly, in a hurry as he passed by me to the front door. As soon as the door swung close from him leaving, silence followed after with the small purrs from Isabelle.

“Sweetie, are you the new maid?” Shaking even more, I had slowly opened my eyes and was found looking at a very bright golden carpet. I had never been so confused in my life before. The carpet was faded with age and covered in dust and dirt when I had closed my eyes. Looking up and around, everything looked newer, fresher, and so bright and amazing. There was even sun coming through the windows, that weren’t boarded up by wood.

“Sweetheart? Are you okay?” Turning to the voice, I was soon looking at the most beautiful woman I had ever seen before. She had milky pale skin, with a black bob haircut. Her sky blue eyes were slightly pink from crying. It was like a dark angel had just gotten done crying. Her long silver gorgeous dress reached and was slightly dragging on the floor. She was the absolute definition of perfection. The black cat being held in her arms was mewing constantly for her attention.

“Are you okay?” Hearing her question once again, I looked her in the eyes and nodded dumbly. “Then why are you on the floor, and dressed in such a peculiar way?”

Eyes widening, I realized I was in my Mudkipz pokemon pajamas. I felt so foolish compared to this woman. “U-Uh…” I didn’t know what to say.

“Ah, you must be the new maid. Please follow me.” Smiling, she turned back around and walked up the stairs, cat in hand. Not knowing what else to do, I followed her up the stairs and through multiple hallways, and up 3 more flights of stairs. Walking down one more hallway with multiple windows, I got a glimpse of the high sun and people dressed in clothes from the 1800s. I couldn’t believe it. Had I traveled back into the past somehow? Entering a room with no windows, it was gorgeously decorated. I assumed it was her room, seeing as it just….matched her.

After reaching the middle of the room, she had turned around and smiled widely, let the cat jump from her arms, and then opened them in a ‘welcome’ gesture she had opened her mouth, and happily announced to me. “Hello, and welcome to my home! My name is Miss Cassandra, what is your name?”

“M-My name is Irish Clancey.” I couldn’t believe I stuttered.

“Oh my, you’re Irish the Beach, aren’t you?” At that, I froze and stared up at her in confusion as she walked forward to me. “Little miss Irish of Scottville High School. The girl who can punch stronger than a man, the girl who acts more like a man than a woman in fact.” With each step she took to me, everything rippled and was replaced by dirty and dusty faded versions of everything around us just for a second before it was colorful again. Each step, it rippled more and more, until she was standing right in front of me with her hands dragging across my shoulders. “Oh my sweetheart, don’t worry. Nothing will ever happen to you, I don’t want my poor baby girl to leave me now.” Soon, she had her arms wrapped around my shoulders completely, hugging me,

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“W-What? Baby girl..?” Slightly jerking back, I was able to see that the room was dusty, dark, dirty, and everything was faded once again, and for good.

“Sweetie. You’re everything I imagined my baby girl to be, so I am never going to let you go. Losing my sweet precious husband, and having a miscarriage…you’re going to fill the hole in my heart.” Freezing at her words, I soon knew exactly what she meant. She was going to keep me there, as her child, until I died, all because her own had died before it even got to live. Jerking back completely, I ran out of the room, and ran down random hallways. Everything was old, faded, and dusty just like the room. There were also holes in the walls and floors. Running down a flight of stairs, I then heard it. Wailing. She was just wailing, and then I heard it, swooshes of wind.

She was coming after me. Jumping through holes in the floor and walls, I was soon out of the scary mansion, and as soon as I was out, the wailing was gone. She was gone. I ended up walking home as quick as I could, looking over my shoulder every few minutes. I had made it home safely, and I just returned to my room, and rolled up in bed in fear and though about everything. I thought I was safe. That was over a month ago.

I was coming home from hanging out at Jessica’s house, and I ended up having to pass the Haunted Mansion with the banshee. Getting the shivers, I hurried up and tried not to look at it.

“Oh, Irish…” Hearing the wail, I froze up for a second and started to run. I made the stupidest mistake of looking back. The beautiful woman I had seen before was so hideous now. Her short black hair was stuck up as if she hasn’t showered in years, her milky skin was almost grey and cracked and she looked like she was an anorexic. Her blue eyes were pulled open so horribly, and looked like they would pop out at any moment. I ended up losing my own balance while looking back and fell onto the side of the road. As I tried to get up, she grabbed the back of my hair and dragged back me into the mansion.

And now here I am. Trapped in a baby room, wasting away. Her form has never changed from when she chased me, and whenever I don’t do as she pleases or react how she wants, she wails at me and cuts me with a long kitchen knife against my skin everywhere, making long cuts, and then she usually drops the knife and hugs me and begs for forgiveness, although there’s also the days where she just breaks some of my bones, my fingers and toes are her favorite.

I plan to make one last run though, to escape away from her. This morning, she checked up on me, and left the door unlocked as she went and got me ‘breakfast’. Shaking, I got up on my two feet. I have never felt so dirty in my life before. Caked in blood with dirt and wearing the same clothes the past two weeks, I think, having a bath would be a blessing right about now. But on a side note, I tried to open the door slowly so it wouldn’t creak, too much at least. It was open just enough I could squeeze through, and the second I slipped through, I turned and saw her staring at me. She looked horrified, and I took advantage of it and ran past running after her. As soon as I ran around the corner, I heard a plate shattering from being thrown at the wall, and I heard the wails. Not know where I was, I ran blindly past grimy dirty walls and boarded windows. I soon found out that we were at the top floor, when I was in the dead end hallway that lead to her own bedroom, the one that I had looked out and saw 1800s town people and a high sun. Now out the window, I can only see wood with cracks of sunrise seeping through.

The wailing was right behind me now, turning around, I stared at her with tears of fear and hopelessness in my eyes. With one shaky deep breath, she opened her mouth and let out a wail strong enough to throw me back, breaking the windows, breaking through the old wood, and down I went. Through the window, and down to the sidewalk.

Why me?

Credit Link – https://www.facebook.com/CassandraTheBanshee?fref=ts

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20 thoughts on “Why Me?”

  1. I’m Sorry but am I the only one who thinks the writing style is plastic? I don’t know how else to say it but it was like: “I was in the House, ah yeah let’s not call it House, let’s call it Mansion… Ah yeah and then there was this cat and then I heard voices” That’s how it feels reading this. I made it through because I have a little bit of OCD that I can’t just stop reading a Story no matter how bad it is. The idea itself was, well… not a good one.. As Stuff like this has been done a hundred times. To get back to the plastic writing style: “Yeah I made it out and I was frightened and then I was back in again and she hurts me and ah yeah she even breaks my bones..”
    What about the Horror, the Terror of living with a terrifying dead Lady that FUCKING BREAKS YOUR BONES AND CUTS YOU WITH A FUCKING KNIFE!!!!!! I don’t feel any Angst or desperation or whatever a normal Person in this Situation would experience.
    I know that it’s not easy to start writing and that there’s a lot of Time you have to put even in a short Story like this. But the first rule should be: PROOFREAD, PROOFREAD AND GODFUCKINDAMMIT PROOFREAD AGAIN! If you don’t take your Pasta serious enough to make sure it has not a huge amount of errors like this one, then how should I take it serious as a reader? Even as a non-native English Speaker I found heaps of errors. 1/10

  2. The story itself isn’t bad, but the grammar wails more than a banshee for the mistreatment it got here (and by the way, that woman doesn’t seem to have anything in common with a banshee). And there’s a terrible confusion of intertwined tenses and cronological flaws (I am prisoner here _now_ but I am planning to escape except I already did this and actually _now_ I am falling through the window…)
    It seriously needs to be polished, after which it might become a good story.
    But the whole “why me?” doesn’t really make sense, the answer is “because you went in there”, it’s not like it was the house to go and look for her unprovoked.

  3. I don’t see how this pasta wasn’t sent to Crappypasta. No offense, but I actually trudged through this read. I understand completely if I sound like a dick but the sentence structures and the grammar errors made me imagine that perhaps English isn’t your first language. That or you’re just new to writing itself. Either way, learn from your mistakes and build off the critique these people offer. I mean, Pika Pika Pikachu.

  4. Good fun story, but too many grammatical problems detract from it. It also seemed like the author couldn’t decide on Irish’s character, tom-boy or girly girl. “a very soft depressed gorgeous sounding melodious voice” That’s just waaaaaay too many adjectives, and with no comma, it just sounds ridiculous. Grammar isn’t as important as your English teacher might have you believe, but when it subtracts enjoyment from a story, its time to be a little more critical about it. Also I understand the desire for a kind of “open to interpretation” ending but this could use a little more information. She just gets blown out of the house? Does she escape? Does Cassandra still have her? Is she dead? That aside, fun idea, just needs the screws tightened up.

  5. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the idea, but the grammar could really use some help. There were some serious run-ons happening in there.

    Also, during her incarceration, Irish sounded so bored. When mentioning Cassandra breaking her bones, she came of non-chalante. Oh, no big deal, just a few broken bones. Over all it made it hard to read.

  6. Good job. I really liked this idea and you certainly kept my attention through the entire thing.

    There were times when the descriptions were a little lacking, but I think that will fix itself the more you write.

    Very interesting.
    ~8/10

  7. So she got thrown out of the house and is now free, or what? Really rushed at the ending, and the whole cutting and breaking bones thing is really boring.

  8. I thought the story was ok, but it had to much build up. The part where she actually was captured and breaking bones and cutting part, thats the part that should be elaborated. The plot was cool, but the presentation needs to be changed. Also, the grammer and character needs some work, but all in all, not a bad story. 5/10, fix the grammer and I would give it a 6-7/10

  9. Once you get past all of the grammatical errors and awkward sentences, you’ve got a decent pasta. I liked the story itself, as cliché as it was. The end was seriously rushed though. More time could’ve been put into it to make it better.

  10. I usually try to not be That Person, but holy cats, is the grammar in this a problem. I think it might be an okay story, but the writing itself made me quit in frustration. A typo or two is fine, however I do hope this gets proofread, fixed, and re-posted.

    1. I felt exactly the same way. I wanted to keep reading because the plot seemed interesting but the writing itself was so terrible that I just couldn’t keep reading. I only made it up to the part where she heard voices coming from the stairs.

  11. Well, seeing as how nobody else had anything to say; or maybe they just haven’t been published yet… I thought I would put in my own “opinion” about this.

    Overall, it’s an interesting and exciting read; almost puts me at the edge of my seat.

    If anything, I’d rate it an 9/10… but everyone has their own opinions.

  12. I had mixed feelings about this one. While the basic plot line was cliched and not very original, the add-ins of the miscarriage and 1800’s era grandeur made it a bit more interesting. I found “Irish” to be sort of annoying, dancing between a tom-boy and a scared teenage girl. I wish that the author had gone a bit more in-depth with Miss Cassandra’s treatment of Irish (mostly the cutting and bone breaking) because I feel like that aspect just sort of flew by, but if it had been elaborated on then the feelings of desperation and horror would’ve been heightened. All in all, just a bit bland. 6/10.

  13. Not bad, it was interesting to read.

    Definitely a little more different than what I have been recently reading on here.

    -10/10 voted

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