Seven eyes. Staring endlessly into my heart, tearing me apart like razors cutting through a block of butter. They grab my chest and reveal the secrets hidden deep within me. It destroys me. It slowly kills me. I crumble into the warm sand beneath my worn-out feet. Look away! Just turn your head around and walk away from this monstrosity! But I can’t. These eyes are so horrible, so terrifying, yet so mesmerizing. I wander from each eye and soon come across the one, gleaming, dark-blue eye filled with fear. My heart clenches up and I can’t breath. I quickly pull my eyes away from it as tears stream down my face. They swiftly blink on the smooth, grey, heart-shaped rock they are forever embedded into, because of me. Because of the worst mistake I’ve ever made.
It all started at an old, dark, eerie, and mysterious shack in the middle of the Barrington Town Forest. 7 friends and I dared each other to camp out half a mile from the main trail that runs through the forest. We were all somewhat afraid of the dark, so it would be a hard dare, which is the most fun ones. One of my closest friends, Alisa, agreed and laughed when people said they were afraid of the dark. But in her gleaming, dark-blue eyes, I saw fear that I’ve never seen in her before. I pushed that away and focused on packing, but it always lingered in the back of my mind. We were soon ready and headed out to go on our daring adventure, but it was more like a nightmare to me.
It was just starting to get dark outside when we arrived, so we quickly walked down the winding paths to find a flat area to put our tents up. As we strode through the thick wood, I saw someone. Not one of my friends. It was a young woman, clothed in a tattered and blood-stained, white dress. She had thick, matted, black hair that fell down to the small of her back. Her skin was so bright. It was translucent! There was only one eye on the woman’s face and her throat was sliced, but I didn’t understand until later. Her face was filled with sorrow and she beckoned me to follow her. I stopped dead in my tracks. My friends were looking at me with worried looks and were asking me questions, but I could only hear the hushed, ghastly whispering of a girl. She slowly lifted her scratched arm and pointed into the woods. I followed her finger and it lead to a small, wooden shack in a clearing. She started towards the house and as she took every graceful step, a ghastly mist followed her.
I realized my friends were shaking me and screaming at me, but I jerked free of their grip and stumbled towards the shack with the waiting woman.
I remembered an old tale my dad used to tell me to scare me when we went camping; A young woman was once walking through the Barrington Town Forest when she lost sight of her parents. She kept walking down the trails, searching and searching until she came upon a little shack in the woods. She knocked on the door and 2 scary men dragged her inside and torchered her. They cut out one of her eyes and put it in a box with a little heart-shaped stone in it (these men were mentally insane). They slit her throat with a pocket knife and left her in the house where she was never found. To this day, she haunts the Barrington Town Forest and tortures people like the men did to her as a way of revenge.
I should turn around. Walk away with my friends, but I couldn’t. Something was calling to me. Something from in that house. So I kept walking and stumbling, away from my friends, away from safety.
I was at the front door almost immediately and only a foot away from the woman. The big wooden door opened, revealing a cobweb-filled room, which I presumed to be the dining room, due to the huge table set with wooden utensils and chipped plates. To the right of the dining room, I saw 2 beautiful sofas with the smell of camphor. A fireplace was in front of the sofas, full of dark-grey ash that occasionally flew out and floated into the rest of the shack. There was a little kitchen to the right of the sofas with rotting wooden cabinets. The woman made her way to the corner of the house and pulled up the corner of a musty carpet, uncovering a trap door with broken metal latch that’s been over used. It opened with a creeeeek. I wanted to leave, but the woman (who I now presume to be a ghost) pulls me towards it with her forgotten stare.
As I stepped down into the old cellar, my friends appeared at the front door. They screamed and ran towards me, but the ghost grabbed ahold of them and gestured down the stairs, which meant to go on. I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to go into the cellar. But I had to. I don’t know why, but I just had to.
I slowly stepped down, down, down, towards a small, flickering light. It was a deep orange color that wrapped around every inch of me and it almost felt… warm. I steadily inched closer to it and I realized it was a torch in the middle of a circular room, stuck to a rusty, metal pole. Beneath it sat a box with a beautiful floral pattern on a pitch-black background. It was covered with an inch of dust. I was only a few feet in front of the box when the ghost strode up beside me. She wasn’t holding my friends anymore. I quickly took my endless gaze off of the box and frantically searched for them until I saw them. They were tied up to a pole beside the one with the torch. I tried to run over to them, to untie them, but the ghost stepped between us and pointed to the box.
“No! Let my friends go! Leave us alone!” I tried to yell at the ghost, though only the word “no” came out. The beautiful, young woman turned into a horrifying monster! Her fingernails grew out into long, yellow claws and her teeth stretched out into razor-sharp points. That one, big, round eye turned blood-shot red and her pupil thinned out like a cat eye. She towered over me and reached for me. Run. Now. I dived to my right, dodging her hands by an inch. The cobble ground dug into my bare knees and made small cuts all over the front of them. She screeched and darted after me. I fumbled with the rope tied around my friends, but it was tied in a knot I have never seen. It must’ve been ancient, but there was no time for me to study which way one piece of the rope wraps around and pulls the other. I remembered my dad putting my pocket knife in my pocket. Thank you so much. I began to saw away at the thick, spiraling rope. Just as it began to give way, the enraged ghost wrapped its long, bony fingers around my waist and lifted me off the ground and I dropped my knife. I squirmed and shrieked, but her death grip around my wouldn’t budge. As I kicked and punched empty space, I knocked that torch onto the ground. The small flames crawled around, catching on stray strands of straw, slowly forming a huge wall of inferno heat. The ghost let go of me and I landed hard on my back. The ghost screeched as the fire crawled up her dress and hair. Ignoring my intense back pain, I sprinted over to my friends and hacked away at the last little strand of rope. My friends broke free and we headed for the cellar stairs, but I remembered about the box. I went back and grabbed the box and ran back to my friends. But not before the ghost saw me. She swiped aimlessly at me and I dodged each one, except for the one that ruined my life. Her claws caught on the holes in my shorts and she tugged so hard that I fell flat on my face, banging my head pretty hard. The box flew out of my hands, dropping so hard that the lock broke open. It burst open, exploding with a blinding gold light and flashing colors. I covered my eyes with my arm, but not fast enough to not see my friends get sucked into the little box.
“No!” I screamed, but it was too late. The light disappeared. So did my friends. I pushed myself off the ground and ran to the box as fast as possible. This is where I found the stone. The heart-shaped stone with the eyes of my 7 friends.