The tale of the writing

Submitted for approval of the midnight society

I called a tale The tale of the writing

I knew I was living in a haunted house ever since I can remember.  Cover doors and doors being opened randomly enclosed randomly as if someone was there but wasn’t. My parents always told me  the story of the old lady who was a cat hoarder.  But I did not see a friendly spirit or  feel anything friendly. That was before I went to bed and I had a very clean mirror to begin with when I went to bed there was no lipstick on it or anything of that matter except p maybe just pictures of my friends and I that was about it that was plastered all over the mirror just enough for me to see the reflection of my self.  

When I went to go to the bathroom at night it was bloody dark in my room and then there was a power outage. When I went back from the bathroom and did my business do usual. I ended up deciding to take the flashlight to the mirror when I took the flashlight to the mirror I found out that the mirror had a bludgeon and bloodied version of me staring at me as if I was dying of blunt force trauma. But the trauma part was real I was afraid of what I was seeing the mangled face in the blood and the brain spewing out of my own head in my reflection. I touch my face I found no blonde or gray matter on my face I just saw it in the mirror. When I went back to bed I was thinking it was just a nightmare. And a nightmare that was. Because I never really liked power outages to begin with they were horrible triggers for me because of my problems.

I thought they were dressed nightmares the Gordy image in the mirror they were supposed to be my reflection but really it wasn’t a dream when I saw in blood being written was the words you are next. I was frightened and screamed and told my parents they didn’t believe me until they saw a warrant they saw they thought I was hurting myself but I told him I wasn’t address pop there when I woke up.

That’s one way to sign to sit me down and tell me the story about the ghost of the cat holder there was some neighbourhood people that hate their particular woman because she who cats which was a formal neglect and she ended up being bludgeoned to death for the cat say that wise. After the woman was dead the cats were taken to an animal shelter to be safe. But she was very harmless lady very friendly but was always hated by the neighbors. That’s why she was dead and haunting my house.

When I learned of this and then I was in my reflection that I was seeing but the reflection of the old woman who was the cat hoarder being murdered I decided I wanted out of the house right away I didn’t want to know what other horrors were going to be there.

The end

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