The Haunting

I knew the house was haunted from the moment I set foot inside. I had always been sensitive to the paranormal and despite my brother saying it was because I had been dropped on the head as a child, I knew I was special. I had been studying witchcraft and was beginning to understand my abilities a little more. I was hoping our family’s new house would communicate with me in a way I could understand. 

The thought of spirits speaking to me was the most exciting thing about moving away from all my friends in Portland. My father had gotten a new teaching job, one he hoped would provide better for our family. I had loved the art culture Portland brought, but now I had a chance to learn more than I had before. The spirits were calling for me. They woke me up with their whispers on our first night in the house and I knew I would never have a full night’s sleep in this house. Luckily, I had been an insomniac most of my life. 

The less I slept, the more in tune I became with the spirits. My family had never quite believed me when I told them I could talk to ghosts, spirits, the dead, but now they were starting to question me. They didn’t understand how I slept so little but seemed to be in perfect health. I had figured out long ago who I really was. And I knew I wasn’t human.