At first glance the house on Moody Street is quite unremarkable; it's very plain with a black iron fence enclosing the house... but once you enter the rather big front door you immediately feel uneasy; it could be the hand-painted Jesus on the wall as soon as you open the door with his arms outstretched as if welcoming you into the home... or it could be the stairs to your left that lead to the second floor. The stairway itself is very narrow and dark, even in the middle of the day. Safe to say it doesn't scream 'welcome home', but nonetheless my aunt bought the place in an effort to keep an eye on my old, ailing grandmother and my mentally disabled aunt—her sister.
My aunt moved into the first-floor apartment with my uncle and four cousins; my grandmother ended up upstairs as it was converted into an apartment already equipped with two bedrooms. My guess was that was the ultimate selling point, as my aunt did not want to have to do construction on a house to convert it to fit my grandmother and aunt. Time went on and my grandmother had acquired a couple of my cousins so they started to convert areas of the upstairs into two bedrooms...
The first part to get started on was the enclosed porch... it was huge, so they took a corner of it and made it into a bedroom. As they started to tear things down and build things up strange things started to happen; unexplained noises would occur on a frequent basis. We all heard and saw things; every one of my cousins that went there to spend a night would wake up in the morning to tell my grandmother and aunt what they had heard or seen.
On this particular night, I was sleeping in the living room on the couch when I awoke to this very uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I checked my cell phone and the clock said it was 2:32 AM. as I stared at the ceiling the feeling started to get worse, so bad in fact I started to hold my stomach. As I started to sit up I heard the creak of the floorboard, as if someone was walking towards me. I'm just hearing things, I thought as I started to walk to the kitchen for a drink of water. As I made my way to the kitchen I heard it again, this time coming from above me in the attic. I heard the creaking as if someone was walking back and forth very slowly as to not make noise. I hurriedly made my way back to the couch, and pulling my knees up to my chest, I sat there frozen in fear. I didn't sleep for the rest of the night.
The next morning I told my aunt and grandmother what I heard.
"You must have had a bad dream dear," she replied, "the attic is nothing more than a crawlspace, there isn't even enough room to stand up in there, let alone walk around."
All day I couldn't get that creaking sound out of my head; it had me pretty creeped out the rest of the day. As the day turned into night the same feeling of unease washed over me.
"I really want to go home," I complained to my grandmother.
"Sorry dear, your parents aren't coming tonight," she responded sadly, "they called a little while ago and said they would be by tomorrow to come get you."
I was terrified; I was going to have to spend another night in that creepy house. As bedtime approached, I started to get quite sleepy and thought, "Hey, maybe I will just knock out and sleep straight through the night."
Oh, how wrong I was...
I awoke again at 2:32 AM in a panic, but nothing seemed out of place, everything looked... well... fine.
As I surveyed the room, I could have sworn I saw something out the corner of my eye, but when I turned there was nothing there.
"Keep it together girl," I laughed to myself. But as I started to lay back down, I thought I heard someone else laugh.
It was very faint, so faint I told myself it was my imagination, but as I tried to get back to sleep I heard it again, this time it was loud enough to hear... it was a little girl's laugh.
But it was different; it was menacing... like she was enjoying seeing me scared.
I immediately shot up and looked around but I didn't see anyone... I could hear my grandmother in her bedroom snoring loudly, and my aunt in her room on the other side of the wall where I was sleeping. As I sat up, I immediately had the sense that someone was watching me, but by that time I was too scared to investigate, so I just sat there for what seemed like a long time, and all of a sudden I hear it: footsteps on the linoleum floor; little taps on the tile kind of like a little girl's dress shoes hitting the tile as she walked.
Well as you can imagine, by this time I was really terrified; I was shaking, my whole body was literally quaking like a leaf. Then—just as it had started—it stopped about five feet away from me.
Too afraid to turn my head in the direction of the noise I had just heard, I held my breath, and then I heard her laugh; she was laughing at me! As she laughed I started to cry, begging her to please leave me alone. But she just wouldn't stop laughing, her laugh sounded like fingernails being dragged across a blackboard; it was excruciating. And then just like that, it stopped. After a little while I stopped crying and looked up... what I saw will forever be embedded in my brain.
There she was in all her glory, a little girl who looked to be about five years old, with a large gash on the side of her head so bad it looked as if a part of her skull had been completely removed. I was so horrified but could not look away... she had these eyes, lifeless eyes, dead eyes. Her skin looked so pale it was almost translucent.
She just kept staring at me, ever so often she would cock her head to the side as if in contemplation; trying to figure me out. For the rest of the night she just stood there staring at me until the dawn filled the sky. As it became day she slowly started to dissipate into nothingness until she was completely gone.
As soon as my grandmother woke up, I called my parents to tell them to come get me the hell out of this awful place.
When they came about an hour later I practically ran to the car. I turned around to look at the house and there in the window stood the little girl's head cocked to one side, staring at me. I never went back to that house on Moody Street. Every time my parents went I stayed home; knowing that she was waiting for me to return... to see that face; those lifeless eyes and pale grotesque skin with the open wound on her skull...