Real-life horror stories
When I was a young teenager, in my home town, there once stood an apartment building which was believed to be haunted.
All its residents had long been gone due to the faulty structure of the building.
A ruin. Yes, that’s what it was. It became a home to stray cats, a hangout place for bad teenagers.
But, that was not all.
There was a rumor that a murder-suicide took place in one of the rooms few years before all the residents were gone.
Since then, some residents saw ghosts, and because of this, more and more people deserted the building – it gained its fame as a haunted spot.
I was in my second year of junior high school. My classmates were talking about exploring the haunted apartment, and I was asked to join them.
I hesitated for a moment. To be honest, I didn’t want to get involved with bad teens and it was scary too… but, the girl I fancied was coming too, so I said “Yes”.
I was thinking “I’ll show her how cool I am!”
A few days later, we went there. Two boys, three girls. It was spring, 5pm, still bright. The days were growing longer.
Yet, as soon as we were in the building, an unexpected darkness fell on us.
In the hall, shards of broken glass scattered on the floor, dusty, smoky air filled the place. It was like stepping into another world.
It was a four-story building. Our goal was to reach the furthest room of the top floor. On the way up, some teen gangs were hanging about, but there was no trouble.
They only teased us. Rather, we were glad because the teens had placed lamps. Looking back, we were not so frightened at this stage.
As we came to the third floor, things changed dramatically. One of the girls stared to panic, screaming with tears.
“I can’t move my legs!” “Go any further, then we won’t be able to get back!”
She was dead serious. We felt a sudden chill of fear. All three girls were crying, echoing each other.
Just then, there was a cry of a child from the room nearest to the corridor. …Did I mishear something? No. I did hear it. I still remember the sound clearly.
Only the girl I liked and I heard this sound. Others said they did not hear anything crying. Considering the situation, we felt we had enough.
One boy wished to go further, but we persuaded him to leave the building.
The girl who first panicked, did not come to school on the following day.
She continued to feel unwell after she went home, and there was a mark on her ankle – it looked as if her ankle was grabbed by a small hand of a child.
The situation became known to the teachers and we were all scolded. But what could we say? We kept saying “Sorry.”
It didn’t matter much, because we were already feeling down anyway before the teacher called us. Four days after the adventure, the girl came to school.
The girl I liked and I kept a distance from each other, although I was originally hoping to impress her.
Being together reminded us of that day. The girl I liked and the girl who panicked, both never mentioned that day again.
By doing this, perhaps, we were trying to forget that day.
At length, the confusion was subsided. Yet, the crying sound remained in my mind because it sounded like crying for help.
The scene appeared in my dreams again and again. Though I could never see the child’s face, the child was about five years old, crying, and walking towards me.
Gradually, I began to feel a sense of responsibility – something must be done.
Four months later after the adventure, I came to the building on my own. The murder-suicide I mentioned earlier, did actually happen.
An old couple living near the building told me the story.
The couple didn’t know in which room the murder-suicide took place, but they think in the room on the third floor, nearest to the corridor.
On that day, I placed flowers in front of that room. It had been more than 15 years since the sad incident took place.
Even now, I’m not sure whether the crying voice I heard was the dead child’s or not.
One thing is for sure: since I placed the flowers, I’ve never dreamed about the crying child again.
Now I’m an adult, and I met these friends again few times in class reunions.
They all remember that day when spring comes.
Good or bad, this experience taught us some lessons. Ruins and haunted spots should be respected.
Ever since I heard the details of the murder-suicide, I became more serious about family matters.
It was a scary, but meaningful experience. This is how I feel.
The family who lost their lives, may their souls rest in peace. I still think of them.