Dear Martha,
Let me start off by saying that I don’t believe in things like ghosts or curses or demons, you can attest to that, but I also can’t quite explain what happened on the night of November 5th 2015. You might be confused at this part, since I don’t usually tell anyone about my childhood, but since I think my life will be ending soon I think I ought to at least tell someone about this story. Even if it is in writing form.
I was 14, almost 15, and this took place in the last week of summer before High School. My family and I were living in Arizona at the time, just outside of Phoenix, and we had a small dingy house at the end of a culdesac. The roof and the outside of the house was falling apart in the summer heat but my mom didn’t have the money to fix it or move anywhere else. So we stayed, we stayed right until it was unlivable, but this isn’t that story.
It was a Tuesday, my mom was at work and my older sister was out with her friends or something like that. So it was just me in the house, along with our dog George. He’s important to this story later but first I’ll tell you what I was doing. I was in the living room, sitting on the couch watching a movie. I had a bowl of popcorn next to me and George was laying at my feet.
It was hot, well it was always hot but that day was especially warm and the fan wasn’t helping much. I was considering going outside to see if that would help when I heard a noise. It was a distant wet thumping sound. Almost like a giant drop of rain.
I knew I wasn’t imagining things because the dog clearly heard it too, his ears perked up and he looked up at me as if to ask “What was that?”
I paused my movie and got off the couch, the air was stuffy and all I could smell was my own sweat mixed in with the saltiness of the popcorn. “Who’s there!” I called.
There was no answer and George went right back to laying down so I figured it came from outside. I was wrong, because the next time I heard the thump it sounded like it came from behind me. I paused the movie again and went to turn, only for something sticky and wet to grab either sides of my head and turn it back towards the TV. It was a cool weight on my head and I could feel cool water running down my neck but I could also feel it breathing against my skin as it whispered “Don’t. Stop. Watching.”
I was frozen in terror as the TV flickered, changing my movie from something mindless and fun to something horrifying. The characters started to bleed out on screen, one of them took an axe and the living room was filled with the sound of crunching bone as it hacked off the fingers of the youngest character. Her smiling face as it happened sticks with me even now.
Now I’ll admit, while this was happening I forgot about George. Which, given the circumstances, makes sense. So when he growled and that wet sticky weight was removed from my head I almost didn’t process it at first, but when I did I turned to see my brave little dog latched onto the leg of what I can only describe as an old woman drenched in water. She was dropping onto the floor and screaming her head off as she tried to dislodge him.
Her head turned to me and I remember that she had no eyes, giant gaping holes where were her eyes should have been as she screamed at me to look back at the TV. I didn’t. I simply stared as George continued to attack her, until she eventually faded right there in front of me. I looked back at the TV, the movie was normal again.
George died two weeks after this happened, from water in his lungs. I miss that dog. I miss him everyday, and I know that without him around she’ll come back. I’ve been seeing her, out of the corner of my eye. Standing in the hallway or in the doorway of my bedroom. That’s why I’m writing you this letter Martha, instead of sending an email or just calling you. She has dominion over screens and I’m terrified of what she’ll show me next.
Sincerely, your oldest friend, [REDACTED]
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