It all started during my childhood around the age of three or four. I adored the outside. Then again most kids do. Most kids have a normal childhood. Mine was quite the opposite. While I wasn’t venturing around or getting into trouble, I always liked to explore the backhouse. The backhouse was basically a garage with a second floor, which was mainly used for storage. I always liked to rummage through it and see what treasures I could find.
Sometimes I would pretend that I was a king in a castle. However, there was always one door I would neglect. Maybe it was the odor that came from it, or the way the door was broken as if something...inhuman had destroyed it. Nevertheless I ignored it. Until that day. That horrible day when I first heard it. The moaning. Or was it crying? Whatever it was I heard it and it scared me.
Fear and curiosity combined in my head and I started to walk towards the door. With every step I took the crying got louder and more intense. I backed away from the door, turned and ran. I only stopped once to look back and I saw something that looked a lot like blood seeping out from under the door. I entered the house and ran upstairs, crying. I remember getting tucked into bed that night with the fear that something would know I was up here and would try to get me as I slept. I let my mind wander as I fell asleep.
Big mistake. I woke up in a cold sweat with blood running down my arm. It was strange because I felt no pain. It wasn’t my blood. I looked up at my mirror and saw words painted in blood. “Those who come in...never come back.” I quickly got out of bed and ran into my parent's room where I told them everything. The blood, the crying, the moaning, everything. My parents assured me that everything was alright and that I had probably had a nightmare.
So I stayed there for an hour until my dad finally said they had enough of my nonsense. They told me to get a glass of water and they would tuck me in again. I ran downstairs, got the water and came back up. My parents kissed me goodnight and they started to shut the door. My dad re-opened it and whispered “Those who come in...never come back.” as blood began dripping down the walls.