If I could do it all over again, I would’ve never stepped foot in that cemetery.
It was senior week, and my best friend, Sam, convinced me to go to a drinking party behind the old Harrison mausoleum.
The only reason why I gave in and decided to go was because I heard Heather McDade was going to be there, and I’ve had a crush on her since fourth grade.
Of course, she could care less if I was there or not. She didn’t even know my name.
I know this to be fact, because instead of calling me Evan when I said hello to her at the Piggly Wiggly, she called me Jason.
But that’s all ancient history now, because I have bigger problems than girls on my mind. Something followed me home that night at the cemetery, and it’s been tormenting me for over a week.
I felt this dark presence the first night when I arrived home from the party. I had this uneasy feeling of being watched by soul-less eyes as I tossed in my bed.
At first, I thought it was the alcohol playing tricks on my mind, but then when the feeling followed me into the next day, well, that’s when I begin to worry.
I wanted to tell Mom and Dad, but I was sure they would accuse me of being on drugs. They didn’t believe in those things in which they couldn’t see for themselves.
Each day that passed, I noticed that the presence only got stronger, and more prevalent.
I have come to conclude that whatever this was that had been haunting me, was not a spirit of a being that once was, but something demonic that never lived.
The worst part of it all was that I was alone. Mom and Dad went to Florida for one of Dad’s business conferences, and I was left behind to face this demon by myself.
I decided to call Sam and ask him to spend the night. He answered immediately.
“Sam, “What are you doing tonight?” I asked.
“I’m doing nada," Sam said, "what are you doing?”
“Nothing, I was just wondering... do you want to stay over tonight? My parents are out of town.”
“Awesome,” Sam said, “we can throw a party.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said.
I wanted to tell him what was going on, but I figured it would be easier to explain it to him in person.
Sam was my best friend since preschool, and I've always told him everything--no matter how embarrassing it may have seemed.
“Fine,” Sam said, “but I’m bringing some beer.”
“Okay,” I said, “just try and get over here, quick.”
“I’ll be over as soon as I can--I’ll see you soon.”
I hung up the phone, and no more than a second later, a loud bang was heard from upstairs. My legs wanted to run, but instead, they were frozen to the floor with fear.
I listened intently, as footsteps creaked across the wood floors above my head. My parents’ bedroom door squeaked from the top of the steps, as the footsteps grew louder and closer.
I backed up slowly, as my eyes focused on the steps, each one groaning as something unseen made its way downstairs. My heart beat like an out of tune drummer, and my breathing became erratic.
“What do you want from me?” I shouted
“I want your soul,” a demonic voice said.
I grimaced in pain as I dropped to my knees in agony. My chest was burning as I clutched my shirt. I looked up and saw a black, faceless entity standing above me.
The entity reached out and took hold of my throat as I gasped for air. I strained to pray the St. Michael prayer, but I couldn’t speak, so I prayed silently.
As I said “Amen,” the demon disappeared, and I was left panting on the floor. I tore my shirt off and noticed three deep scratches embedded into my chest.
I dashed towards the door to escape, but the door was locked. I pulled the handle, but it wouldn’t budge, so I grabbed my mom’s crucifix off of the wall, and started to pray loudly.
“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, --"
The crucifix was ripped from my hands and flew against the wall, where it seemed to stick, and then proceeded to rotate until it was completely upside down.