Dear Dad,

      It’s me. Jacob. So much has happened the past year. And I know, I know, I’m sorry I haven’t written to you in a while. I just haven't had the time. We got a new “Circa”  house, well almost new, its an old house but new to mom and I. You get what I’m saying. It's apparently called a “circa” house - whatever that means. for starters; It’s the house one just off the corner of East Elk, right next to the house that all of our old neighbors wanted, remember? The one they gawked over and literally cut each others their throats for. It got remodeled though, it now has a big bay window that stretches 5x the size of me! It was also positioned next to a worn down blue front door with chipped accents of white on the exterior trims. 

      I don't know why we moved, I guess mom wanted to start over, but god knows she's running away from her problems again… but it is huge! I didn’t really like the house, but what did that matter, mom did and that’s all that counted. You know how that goes with her. I don't get very far in my opinions.

      For the past two years it has been me and her living in the house and I still haven't broken it in. Eventually I will, but it feels too soon. Ha! Too soon. It's been 2 years. You would think I would've broken it in by now. But I haven't, it's very empty without you here, the walls are painted a warm crimson red, almost like one of those medieval victorian style homes. You know, like the ones that Dracula stayed in with the red walls? Yea you know it. The upper levels of the house were mediocre in comparison to the rest of the house. The walls and inside of the house are quite creepy. When we would be in the kitchen we would hear creaky upstairs in my room and mom's room. But we don't believe in ghosts so we shrugged it off as the wind. I know, I know, we are so easy. The walls are bare, colored a warm gray , which resembles a prison cell in my opinion, but to my mom they are “eccentric,” whatever the hell that means. Maybe that was an exaggeration but to me that’s what I feel from my home. But mindless of the walls, the walls are cold and rigid everything just feels…off. I don't know what but there's something weird about this house too, besides your presence obviously being gone. The house has a very odd and awkward basement, nothing like we have ever seen when touring open houses. The entrance to the basement was immediately faced with a rigid and spiral staircase, it literally looked like something out of a horror movie, Dad. It was so weird…But you taught me well nd to avoid uneasy ans scary situations always. I closed the door and went on my merry way in the opposite direction of the basement door. The house has a windy staircase that ricochets on the side of the stones as you push weight on it. At the bottom there seems to be a large crack in the cementa because of the weird basement, or maybe because of the freaky attic, but I just feel like I am never alone. I know you're probably thinking, what is the relevance to the stairs-that's what I am getting to. Ever since we moved into the house I can feel eyes piercing through the back of my skull. Every day I wake up and the hair on the back of my neck stands up straighter than a pin. Someone told me it was because I “distrubred the peace by opening the door.” It's almost like I feel the presence of someone… I know, I know, dad ghosts seem like the only plausible reason, but they aren't real. Like yea, our food has been pretty scarce lately, but I've just racked it up to be because mum was working so much that she hadn't had time to hit the grocery store. But then I remember she went two days ago on Monday, I was with her, and now it's Wednesday and there is no food. It's really weird. God, you definitely think I'm crazy. Hell, I think I’m crazy, ghosts aren't real, this is all in my head. And I know the “GhostbustersBlog.com” has statistics and I know there have been many sightings posted on “YouTube”, but I just don’t believe it. But you know that though. However Sometimes I wish I did, cus’ I would be able to see you. But they aren’t real. Like even you would think it was weird and you never find anything weird. I think there used to be some shady business taking place down in the basement.But what's weird is that I heard there was some sort of what’s interesting though is there are “evil spirits” here. 

      It has this staircase that ricochets on the side of stones that surrounds it as I  push my weight on it. Mind you, I am a very light individual so having the stairs creak boisterously like that was extremely worrisome. I could see at the bottom there was a massive crack in the cement. I refuse to go down there. Who knows what's down there. 

      Mom and I will be fine Dad, we know how to protect ourselves if  there are intruders and “spirits' ' I love and miss you very much. See  you soon.

Jacob <3

       I stand from my desk, a singular tear drops onto my letter, smudging the fresh graphite I just printed. Whipping the tear with my finger I fold the letter horizontally so as to fit perfectly inside my envelope, I place the freshly closed envelope into a pile with identical, unopened, perfectly folded envelopes. 

      Looking over at the clock which read 3:06 a.m., not feeling tired, I walked down the creaky stairs in hopes of finding a book to read. My mom has many adult and young adult books I can sift through. Between trologies to multiple part series, she had them all. That's what I liked about her. How her bookcases were lined up perfectly, the spines pressed up atop one another so as to not leave any gaps. She made everything just the way she liked it.  

       Walking through the doorway, illuminated by moonlight, I start towards the infamous bookcase. I can feel the cold hardwood floor push against the soles of my feet as I step over the ridges that hold the wood together. I kicked myself in the mental gut. Sh*t its so late, now I'll never be able to sleep. This night felt abnormal in comparison to other nights. Sifting through the bookcase I imagine the stars as they wielded an array of dark blues that smothered the sky, with sparks of yellow and white stars that were chained to form Orion's belt. The moon's blinding color burst through the flimsy curtains of the living room, and fell onto the floor illuminating the crumpled up paper I threw earlier in the night. Frustrated with my writer's block. The window, slightly ajar to allow the summer weather in, mixed with the cool air conditioning, it created this mug that was unbearable to me.

        Sitting on my bed, putting on socks, getting ready for bed,  All of a sudden this force of a thousand needles on my neck overwhelms my body.  I feel my thin blond hair stick pin straight on the back of my neck. I've never felt anything this powerful before, I could feel every single hair on the back of my neck stand up. Not knowing this feeling, I freeze, my legs slightly trembling at the thoughts that follow the pin straight hair. It's almost as if I could feel, each, and every, tiny sharp hair sticking up out of my skin. I rub the back of my neck ferociously in hopes of removing anything that caused my hair to stick up. I slip my t-shirt over my head in hopes that I was just irritated by the shirt collar. However taking the shirt off would appear to be useless as the needles continue to annoy me. I walk up the stairs with Harry Potter in my hand still feeling little sensations but not as prominent as it was downstairs.  . A trip trying to force my legs into my favorite 49er football fleece pants. Getting into bed I feels the silk black sheets trace my feet as I get in.

        The last thing I remember is myself drifting off to sleep while I read Harry Potter. I woke up with a jolt. My back stuck to my sheets, I couldn't move. My head stuck to the pillow; my hands and feet pinned to the bed. I tried to scream but I felt like my voice had been ripped out. My eyes. My eyes, maybe I can use those. Trying to move them, not knowing if my eyes were actually open or not, they flew to each corner of my peripheral vision. I could see everything. And I mean everything. I saw a view but not my view. Like a surveillance camera almost. My eyes adjusting to the dark I made out a figure. Lurking in the shadows of my chestnut wardrobe. The black figure grows bigger and bigger. I have never felt fear like this before, I was stuck, I couldn't move. I am going to die. 

      The darkness slithers down the side of my wardrobe, across the hardwood floor and looms over the end of my bed. Then it creeps all over me, trying to invade every orifice, I felt like I was dying. I felt immense pressure like I was pinned to the bed and I would never be able to leave. Pressure everywhere, ears, eyes, nose, mouth. I felt like I could explode. Then when I was barely holding on an ear piercing shriek tore through the silence, and I woke up with a jolt.