The Novella Life of Illuscia Nester Himawari

    I'm sorry for the way I ended my last update, but I had little time to spare. My Daughter Marcy has been stuck, becoming a part of the house my husband and Stan are mortgaging now for days. First it started with her hand then it pulled her in further . It ate a priest and it retaliated when we tried to smash it apart. I thought we had exhausted all options by this point. But I was wrong. We've been wrong this entire time. And now that I can speak with a level head I can get the story straight. I called Tim as I raced to the house and told him what his brother was about to do. "Jesus. You need to call the cops," Tim told me. I thought about the power that the house seemed to exert over anyone that cane close to it. "No... we can't let this thing hurt more people. It controls anyone that steps foot inside. But I need your help. I think now I can fight it... but I’ll need you Tim, You know him better than any

    I don't know what I'm doing anymore. This house is affecting everyone that comes in contact with it. This house is alive, and whether you choose to believe that or not; I don't care. What matters is that I'm going to do whatever is necessary to save my daughter. Even if I don't fully understand. When this started ,my husband and I resorted to different methods to try and break our daughter free. We even attempted to contact a priest to exorcise the house. That led to the house retaliating and now, as crazy as it sounds; we are trying to appease the house to save her. But she isn't alone anymore. Over the course of a single afternoon, Stan and I watched as the small fingers that we saw pushing out from the wall formed into a complete hand. And then a wrist. Someone, or something; was trying to push its way out of the wall. Somehow Stan got his brother back on the phone. Tim has a friend that works third shift that tried to

    I don't know exactly when we went past our breaking point. Was it when this all started or when things got worse ? Either way, it's happened. There isn't much else I can describe about what has transpired here after the incident with the priest other than a complete and total loss of sanity. I think I was the first one to really lose it. Lack of sleep, trying to keep Marcy as comfortable as possible; and trying to keep a straight face myself despite the circumstances were likely the main cause. But the moment that really made me start to question everything was around lunch time yesterday. I've had to resort to a liquid diet for Marcy because of the way she is fused with the wall. She had only barely open her mouth on the left side and I'm feeding her with a straw. For the most part when this happens, she is quiet and cooperative because she is hungry. But yesterday something different happened. "Mommy.... why did th

    It's been quite a while since I have touched a bottle of alcohol. Had a problem with it when I was younger, but I kicked the habit when I found out that I was pregnant. I swore I would never even have a drop of the stuff again. But now... it's been three days and there isn't any hope in sight for my daughter. If you're just catching this for the first time, the problem started on Friday . Marcy was drawing on the wall in the back hallway of our three bedroom house, and then suddenly; she was unable to remove her right hand from the wall. Since that time we've tried every method known to science and it's left my husband Stan and I feeling rather desperate. It got so bad after we called Tim, her uncle; we resorted to drilling from the crawlspace under the house. Despite the impossibility of it; i can't deny what I am witnessing any longer... it does seem like she is being absorbed by the house.

    Something changed about four hours after I posted. Stan ran out to buy a soft bean bag chair for Marcy to rest in while I bit my nails and waited by the phone for another call from the EMT. Their suggestions weren't bad, but each one of them sounded more gruesome and torturous than the one prior to it. Acid, or maybe some sort of explosive, they said. It made me physically shake to imagine doing that to my little girl. I was tired and exhausted, but I still had some sanity left to know that I didn't want to make my little girl be in more pain. Especially now that her screams had mostly turned into whimpers as she rested, even crying pitifully in her sleep. I stepped away from her for a minute or two, just to regain some sense of composure; and checked all the suggestions that folks posted here. Some of it was quite appalling, suggesting that we kill her to save her the pain. But others suggested that we should attempt a cut from

    You know you’ve reached your breaking point when you come to a bunch of strangers asking for help. Well, I’m at my limit and I’ve had little sleep. It’s been over 24 hours since the incident happened and my husband and I still have no idea what to do, or how this even started. I’m laying on the floor now, my eyes bloodshot and weary from crying; holding my little girl up as she leans against the hallway wall and continues to sob in pain. She’s been having fits of pain more frequently for the past few hours, and I still don’t have a solution for her. All I know for sure is that I will take any suggestions possible. I’m ruffling her hair, soothingly whispering to her and trying to get her to calm down but it isn’t working. Nothing we have done has worked so far either. When I first heard her screams yesterday, I thought for sure it was a problem with one of her toys getting lost. Instead I turned the corner from the laundry room to se

    “Come on, Goddammit! Use the power I’ve given you. Fight back!”  His spike-knuckled fist slammed into my bare face, sending me flying through the air and into a nearby tree. Despite the tree’s time-hardened and hulking form, I went right through it as if it were merely cardboard. I landed roughly, first skidding over some rocks and then tumbling down a slope; coming to rest in a muddy depression several meters away.  Entangled in vines and covered in earthen debris, I tossed and turned amidst the muck; terror making me momentarily ignorant to the pain of The Thing’s Herculean punch. The sound of the air above whipping in response to the sudden appearance of something only served to hasten my limbs. I managed to regain a semblance of physical coordination and untangle myself; and, rising from the ditch, quickly scrambled toward a moss-covered mound. Hiding behind it, I assessed the situation, and quickly came to the grim realization that there was

  I always suspected that my dad’s barbershop was haunted. Heck, he used to make that claim himself. A lot of customers, particularly the old-timers, had their own little superstitions, favorite chairs, and days they avoided coming in for a haircut. My dad, the barber, was the worst of all, though. The man would only use one particular brand of scissors and another for electric razors. He used regular straight razors a good bit, too, except for one antique blade with a pearl handle that he refused to handle. Most curious of all; dad would always leave the last chair in the corner empty. No matter how packed the shop got, no one would be seated in that chair. He never told me why, only that it was tradition. Dad passed away a few months back. I found him at the barbershop, slumped in one of the chairs, looking for all of the world like he was sleeping. It was never my plan to get into the family business. As of last spring, I was still in college work

    What would you do if you could be invisible? Would you walk around naked ALL THE TIME? I did that for a while. It was alright. A little chilly, though. Would you stalk your celebrity crush and maybe get your own private celebrity sex tape? Don't lie. You totally would. And I did. Would you steal? Would you kill? Would you travel the world and see everything? How much depraved shit can you think of? Or would you use your power for good, instead of evil? Liar. I was born with the gift of invisibility. Or I guess you could call it a curse, depending on how you look at it. At first I didn’t realize my power. It bothered me for a long time. I would be standing there with a group of friends, talking about sports or music or whatever, and then suddenly they wouldn’t see me anymore. No matter what I said or did, they would just ignore me. Even my words didn’t register, as if I