• I huddled in the corner, my heart beating in my temples. Sweat coated my face and my legs trembled as another breeze of cold air swept across my feet. My parents were supposed to be back an hour ago... Did he get them, too? And my sister? I sobbed as I thought of small Cathy running down the hall, tripping, crying, screaming.
    I was tired of being scared. I needed to be strong, I knew that. But how could I- I'm alone! Fresh tears streamed down my face. Suddenly, I heard him laugh. It was twisted and maniacal. I listened as it reverberated off the walls of my room.
    "Don't worry, Madeline," He whispered, skin crawling menace dripping off his voice. "I just want to play."
    I shoved my fist in my mouth, biting down on my scream til I could taste blood. I hate this, I hate this, I hate this! Chills run down my back as I hear footsteps. He likes this, my fear. I wretchedly try my phone again but the screen remains black.
    And then, I can't see. My heart stutters, and my stomach twists with shock. The walls of my room are gone. I clutch the floor boards and gasp. The meadow was beautiful, ivory moonlight cascading onto the silver grass. I can hear the musical tinkle of a stream nearby.
    My eyes are drawn to an ancient oak tree off to my left. The branches are bare, and they twist and turn hauntingly. With a sense of dread, the vision slowly rotates until I can see the other side of the tree.
    My father hangs in a noose.
    I shriek wordlessly, my eyes flashing open. I trembled repetively as my dad's dead face and blank eyes burn themselves into my brain. I grip the kitchen knife in my hand. Kill me now, I chanted.
    The thing would never die. Fantasy books always talked about vampires and werewolves, wicked fairies and witches. But what about my mystery murdurer? And how does he kill you?
    Ghosts feed on your emotions. They torture you mentally, eating at your sanity. I would know, I could feel mine slipping away by the second.
    Should I wait for my parents to run home and comfort me, and the ghost would retreat? No, that's impossible. I suddenly realized that my family would never come back. What will I do?
    The knife suddenly became heavy in my hands, and I placed it in front of my gut, willingly, relieved. The knife answered for me.