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Grade
8

Chapter One: Strange Happenings and Ticking Clocks

 

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. That's all I’m paying attention to. Only 10 more minutes of the prison known as Mr Sandrez’s history class. I’m sitting in the front row, trying to look like I am paying attention to whatever he might be saying. I’m normally a great student but after what happened today, I have no idea how I can even start to think about . The grasp on my pen gets tighter, but I am able to calm my nerves enough to loosen it. My hand (the one that isn’t holding the pen) holds the end of my skirt so tight I fear if I move it, my skirt will tear. Focus on the clock Charisma . Focus on the clock. Only 9 minutes now. Why do I feel so weird, whats wrong with me? NO! Focus on the clock. Tick. tock. Tick. tock. Only 8 minutes now. 8 minutes until you can go home. I can’t stop thinking about it no matter how hard I try. Focus on the clock Charisma ! My grasp tightens on my skirt. Only 7 more minutes now. 7 more until you can go home. I try to just think about one color. I’ve heard it helps when clearing your mind. White. Think of white Charisma . NO! That reminds me of what happened this morning. Focus on the clock Charisma ! 6 Minutes now. I continue to focus on the clock, 5, 4, 3, 2 and finally, 1 minute left. The sound of the last bell of the day rings, freeing me from the trap they call school.

 

Nothing happens on the car ride home. I stare out the window, my breath making it harder and harder to see. Mom is listening to her podcast on teenagers, this episode on teenage pregnancy. I can’t stop thinking about it. What I saw, what I heard, what I did. Why do I feel so different all of a sudden? I don’t get it! Am I going crazy? Whats wrong with me? I hold my arm, because for some reason, the pain comes back. “Honey?” oh crap. “Yeah mom?” here comes the lecture on how I better not get pregnant. “Is everything okay? You seem different from when I dropped you off this morning.” “Yeah, I’m just tired. I think I need to take a nap” “Okay” my mom replies, satisfied. As long as I say I’m okay, she believes me, or at least convinces herself she does. We pull into my driveway, and I get out of the car and go to the door. I take off my shoes and run up to my room. My pastel yellow walls and my pastel pink carpet make me feel so at home. I turn on the fairy lights that cover my walls, shelves, and pretty much everything else, and start to write in my journal.

 

I don’t understand what happened today. I thought I was done having these days, but apparently not. I was in the bathroom, and I was just about to head back to class, when I heard this voice. I tried to ignore it because maybe it was some kids skipping class, but then it called my name. Over and over again like a whisper in my ear, but then again, I checked and there was nobody around. I tried to ignore it and go back to class, but my body wasn’t moving in that direction it was moving towards the whispers. Some followed me and some beckoned me. I was down hallways, and then down four flights of stairs. I didn’t even know our school had a second basement, under the first one. I tried to pull back but something was making me go forwards. I got to the bottom of the fourth flight of stairs, and there was just dark. Pitch black. I wanted to leave but the voices continued and before I knew it, I was in the pitch black. Then, a flash of light. White light, and suddenly, “Fear not the dark itself, but what's lurking in it” written on the wall. A pain went through my head and I felt cold hands dragging me away and suddenly, I wasn’t there anymore. I was on the ground of the girls bathroom, with the mark of a human hand on my arm. I ran back to class and for the rest of the day I tried SO HARD to forget every thing but I just couldn’t. I don’t know what to do. What if I’m going crazy?

 

  • Charisma Martinez

 

Chapter Two: Dark Memories and Hard Truths

 

My heart is beating in my head, throughout my entire body. Memories seem to be coursing through my veins. When I was in kindergarten, and told my parents I missed Eliza, my cat, we have never had a cat. When I was in 5th grade and I was the only one in my grade still with “imaginary friends”. When I was in 7th grade and told my parents that I had seen my math teacher drowned by her ex boyfriend because she was seeing someone new. They got the notification that she passed 15 hours later. These, and many more were things I had tried SO hard to forget, but somehow there was always a voice in my head telling me to acknowledge. I’m trying so hard to hold back the tears but like they always do, they came.
 

My mom calls me down for dinner. I wipe away the tears I have been trying so hard to hide, and head down the stairs for dinner. Mom doesn’t talk during dinner, she’s on her computer, which is a relief, as I don’t want to talk to anybody right now. I finish and head back up to my room. I have to do something about this, I have to know what's going on, so I do what any logical person in this day and age would. Shaking, I type into the search bar on my phone “I see things that others don’t, I talk to things that shouldn’t exist, my body moves without my telling it, I speak to invisible people, I have really good predictions, whats wrong with me?”. I press the search button and close my eyes. I’m terrified of what the results could be. I finally get the courage to look at the screen. “Signs you were born medionic”, “Understand your Physic abilities”, “So you think you could be physic?”, “So you speak to ghosts?”, “How to come into touch with your psychic abilities”, “So you can predict the future?”, “Terrifying stories that prove mediums exist”. My head is spinning. What the frick is a medium? Physic? My heart beats hard in my chest, and suddenly I feel a tap on my shoulder.

 

Chapter Three: Want to play?

 

I scream and drop my phone. My head is racing, my eyes are blurry, and I beg “not now. Please not now. Not now. Please not now. Not now” . “Honey, calm down!” my mother, stands looking concerned next to my bed. “Oh it's you?! God, you scared me SO MUCH!” I let out my held breath, and my eyes adjust. “I’m sorry honey, I just came to let you know I have a date with Dave tonight, so your gonna be home alone for a while okay?” “yeah sure mom, just make sure you close the door on the way out okay?” “Got it, sorry I scared you. Love you honey” she kisses my forehead and walks towards out my open door. I pick up my phone again, and click on an article. “Are you physic?”.

If you’ve ever wondered whether or not you have physic and/or medionic abilities, take this simple quiz to find out!
 

Q1: Have you been an outcast all your life?

Yes

Q2: Do you ever hear someone calling your name, even if they are not?

Yes

Q3: Have you ever indulged in substance or alcohol abuse?

No

Q4: Have you ever played with, or considered playing with a ouija board?

Never heard of it

Q5: Have you ever felt someone pulling you or forcing your body to move, but nobody is there?

Yes

Q6: Have you ever heard a high pitched voice in your ear, but nobody else can hear it?

Yes

 

The quiz continues in this way and all of them seemed to add up. There's no way though. I can’t predict the future, I can’t talk to ghosts, and what is a Ouija board? I’m so confused. I continue to research. How can this be happening? Physics and Mediums aren't real. Plus even if they were I have signs from both so what's a mix of them?

 

“What's a mix of a physic and a medium” I type into my search bar.

 

A combination of a physic and a medium is called a Mystic. They can do things such as read the future AND talk to those who have passed.

 

Well, that answers my question. Could I be a Mystic? I mean could it be possible? I continue to research until I hear my mom downstairs. Maybe I should go get a snack and let her know that I’m okay, so she won’t worry, or more like pretend to worry. I walk down the stairs but nobody seems to be there, oh well maybe she’s in the bathroom.

 

“Mom?” no answer. “Mom?” I heard her come in, where is she? I continue to the fridge and I feel a chilling sensation. A cold hand wraps around my waist. Something whispers in my ear, its breath as cold as ice. “Come now,” it says, as if I have a choice, but yet, I don’t. I’m too scared to look, so I do what it says. I let it lead my body down the stairs, into the basement. The lights turn on and something crashes to the ground. The hand leads me to the parchment colored box on the ground, and on the top, is written “Ouija; want to play?”.

State
MI
Zip Code
48103