http://www.infinitelooper.com/?v=ma3BFoEwjPI (listen to this while reading)
June 24th, 1996
The town called 'Anthony, Gap"
Hi, my name is Lynn and I am 19 years old. I have recently moved here to this small town named Anthony Gap, in New Mexico. This town is very quiet, as there are not many people here. Well I don't really live in the suburbs, I just bought one lone house on this route. I don't know why no one has bought it, it's not rundown or anything. It was at a normal price, so I didn't really have any suspicions. Well that's a lie, I got my contractor to check out the house to see if it was OK. My contractor is the kind of person who doesn't tell a lie, and he said that the windows needed to be fixed because there were scratches on them. I told him that it was fine and that I would be pleased to buy it.
The owner said I could have it a bit cheaper, because he felt bad lying about the windows. I snapped up the house real quick so no one else could buy it. I doubt anyone would, because it was in the middle of nowhere, and you'd have no neighbors. but I was happy about this, because I am generally a loner. I'm not really afraid to say it.
June 26th, 1996
The window I found the scratches on
I really like my house. I got it for a bargain, and it's very cozy. There are many rooms I haven't explored yet, such as the 2 washrooms, the one cellar, and many of the closets. The room I have chosen is on the second floor, mainly because I feel safe there. I have started to find scratches in other places. Not only on windows, but also on the wooden posts on my front lawn. Not that I find this strange or anything, or too strange to be exact. I think that it's mainly because of a raccoon or something, but I never knew raccoons had such sharp claws. I guess it's just the raccoons here that have such sharp claws? Anyway, I have started unpacking my stuff such as photos, paintings, and kitchen utensils, and I came across my home phone. I hooked it up to the wall set up my number from my provider and such.
I only have one friend, Nethanial. I called him up about my new house, and he decided he would visit me in a few days. He said he would bring stuff for my new house such as decorations and such, because I couldn't really afford 3 moving trucks; I own a lot of stuff (not that I'm a hoarder or anything) but I do have a collection.
July 2nd, 1996
I was cleaning my restroom and things like that, when I heard my doorbell ring, I knew it was Nethanial, because I basically live in the middle of nowhere. He gave me a standard greeting, but I blushed because I kinda had a crush on him. Not that it matters because I don't really think he knows. He helped me unpack my things after a while. He decided to show me a present he bought me. I knew he would buy me something like a clock or tablecloth or something, because he is the kind of person that always knows what you need. I was right more than I imagine because the thing he bought me was a cat clock, it was so cute!!! He knew I loved cats and that I kinda had an obsession over them. After the present was delivered he said he bought food from Mcdonalds for us and he bought me a Big Mac and a drink; I offered to pay him but he refused.
I started finding more scratches in unusual places. I told Nethanial this, but he said that it's just an animal and to ignore it, or to hire a pest control person. I refused, because I knew that it wasn't an animal, because the scratching was happening in a pattern. Every few days or so the things that were scratched got closer to my house and so on, because I've started to notice more than a usual amount of things being scratched.
I drove to the closest town: Anthony, In the town I found a local pest control officer and he said he could do the job for around $120. I agreed, knowing that I wouldn't get any sleep without him saying that it's just an animal and no ghostly things. To be honest, paranormal things really freak me out.
July 3rd, 1996
OK, now I am officially scared to death. Nethanial decided to return back to his house and shortly after, the pest control man said that there was nothing "invading" the house, except for raccoons and that the only thing he could really do was put food on a plate and put a spike trap there. I agreed knowing that this would calm my ever growing paranoia, because I knew that this much is practically unhealthy for a teenager like myself. I checked on the trap sometimes, but it caught nothing, and the scratching continued.
I decided to go to sleep and lock my door, because I didn't really want the "thing" to enter my house. While I was sleeping I heard a thump, scream, then footsteps fleeing in the opposite direction. Since it was morning and light out, I decided to check the trap.
I am not going to post a photo of the hand I saw caught in the trap but only describe it for the ones with a weak stomach reading. It was a normal arm caught in the trap and torn off from the owner's body. Needles punctured the arm in many places, and the other thing I found weird was that the person had perfectly manicured nails, the nails painted a dark shade of black. Also, the clothing attached to the arm was very fine, almost like a dress, but ruined by the fact that there were needles sticking randomly out from her. "Maybe it's acupuncture," I thought to myself, but slowly dismissed the thought, because I noticed that the needles weren't put into any patterns.
July 4th, 1996
The thing is angry. Well, not that I know it's mad, but as soon as I heard the scream In the middle of the night, the scratching hasn't stopped at things around my house, but things scratched inside my house. I accept my fate to whatever hideous creature lies within the dark. It's now inside my house at this very moment. I am intent on writing down these final notes, and to hide my journal in a safe spot. It's very dark out, and I'm starting to hear quiet thumping coming up my stairs very slowly, almost as if it knew it would ignite fear in me. It's coming down the hall faster now, the thumping almost at a rhythmic pace. I am now sobbing, tears flowing down my face, as I write very frantically. My door is opening and all I see is a woman, like me, wearing a black dress laced with purple string, making skull patterns on her waistline.
She's a witch. I knew it from the moment I saw those needles. I knew I was cursed. She's chanting something, but I am losing the energy to write the last part. I do, however, have the energy to write down this: Don't believe what others tell you, even if it's true.