Matured Stories


I quickly dart to the door as rain starts
pouring outside, making the loose curls on
the top my head stick to the back of my
neck. I unlock the door, shaking my head
off at the entrance. The water hits the floor
in droplets.

I quickly strip down, starting with my black
T-shirt, which is clinging to my wet skin.

After successfully removing the soaking
garment, I finish off by ridding my body of
my tight black skinny jeans. They hit the
floor with a click, the noise caused by the
belt attached to my pants.

I walk to my room, clothes in hand, and
throw them in the washer before making a
turn to my bedroom. I find a new pair of
black boxers and slip them on after taking
off the wet ones. I almost decide to just
spend the rest of my day in bed, but then a
thought pops into my head.

I head for the staircase, determined to
figure out why Anna haunts my home. Not
an ounce of fear seems to come to mind as I
quickly walk up the stairs, opening the door
without a second thought.

Once I’m in the room, (which is surprisingly
not too dark, from the window only having
half the wood on its frame) I step towards
the window, pulling the rest of the wood off
and making the room even brighter, even
though the sky is littered with clouds.

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As I’m ripping off the last piece, I feel a
sudden cool breeze seem to blow past me. I
stop what I’m doing, about to turn around
when a voice stops me. “Who said you could
do that?” a sweet yet awfully creepy voice
asks. I hesitate before slowing, turning
around and bracing myself for the worst.

Standing across the room is a tall, slim
figure, staring intently at me. A gasp leaves
my lips. Anna is standing before me. I’m not
for sure if I should talk to her, or just
quietly leave. My plan of figuring out why
she is haunting my house no longer worries
me, now that she’s standing right in front of

“Must I repeat my question?” her stare
seems to harden, the longer she locks gazes
with me.

“I-I…” I’m completely lost for words.

“I have a strong feeling you lack
intelligence,” she tells me, taking a step
closer and slowing bringing her hands to
the front of her dress. I can see it glisten
when the light hits it: a knife.

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“Has the cat got your tongue? Or should I do
that for him?” a sinister smile seems to take
over her features as she raises the knife
clearly, to where I can see it. “I advise you
to leave,” she says, glancing over at the

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Something inside of me tells me she’s
harmless, even though she’s holding a knife
and practically threatening me with it. For
some odd reason, I feel fearless.

“No,” I finally spit out, standing my ground.

She looks taken back.

“No?” she repeats.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” I smirk,
seeming to irritate her even more. She starts
laughing- well, more like cackling- her
heads falling back before she snaps back up
to look at me.

Before I know what’s happening, she has
thrown the knife and it hits the window
frame, directly beside my head. I freeze, no
longer feeling fearless against her.

“I meant to miss,” she tells me coldly, and
makes her way towards me. I find this a
good time to get the hell out of there,
running out of the door, passing her up and
sprinting down the steps.

After slamming the door, I grab my keys and
wallet before heading out the door and
getting in my car. I speed down the slick
wet road, driving through town searching
for a cheap hotel I could spend the night at.

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* * *

I wake up the next morning, stretching
before getting out of bed. I grab my phone
and wallet off the nightstand, before
heading out of the room and back towards
the Lobby.

It seems to be a pretty decent day, the sun is
out and only a few clouds fill the sky. I open
the door to the motel. Going straight for the
desk, I hand over the key to the old man.

I turn to leave when his voice interrupts,
“You bought The Sexton House, didn’t you?”
I slowly turn around to face him.

“I did,” I say, running my hand through my
messy hair.

“She’s still there, isn’t she?” his voice
lowers, like someone could hear our
conversation. I nod.

“Yes. She is.” he’s the first person, other
than Charlie, that I have told about Anna.

“Is that why you stayed here?” he asks,
shifting behind the counter that separates

“Yes, sir.” he starts to laugh, shaking his
head at me.

“You can’t run from her, son.” his face
becomes serious before saying, “I tried that
long ago…And guess what?” he pauses,
shaking his head as I raise a brow. “I still

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