Rachael's Notebook

darkness

After telling her what happened she wanted to see. Kristin was a Bio Chem. Major with a minor in environmental science. She of all people wanted proof something paranormal was happening if science couldn’t prove it. Needless to say she was sleeping over.

We were in my room just talking, Kristin was quite happy nothing had happened and very smug that science had won again. Then she fell of the bed and landed on her stomach with her head facing the underside my bed. She swore but pulled something out from under my bed.

"Ew, Liz, I think you have something wet under your bed” In her hand was a composition notebook and all over her arm was a watery substance. Having slept in the very humid basement, my room was prone to flooding and condensation forming under beds, and couches and such so I replied. “It happens all the time. Sorry."

I grabbed the notebook and looked inside. There was two different people's writing in it. One looked like my youngest sister’s handwriting and the other maybe a friend's, but I highly doubted it, because it was in the most beautiful script I had ever seen. But what was really scary was what was written down in the other's writing.

I sat there reading my sister’s writing, realizing the school was not teaching her anything about proper grammar use and correct spelling. It was in question and answer form, Rachael seemed to ask a question, and the person in script would reply. The replies were very vulgar and had unnecessary swearing in it.

For example, she had asked how babies were made and the reply was nothing less than an erotic and violent detailed scene of fornication. As the questions progressed the answers went from being gross, to sickening, to disturbing, to scary. I was shaking in terror by the time I reached the last question, which was a question from my sister. She had asked, "What will happen to her if I’m not back in time?"

I stared at the book for a couple of minutes; looking back I should have taken this book thing a little seriously. I handed it to Kristin who bragged it and walked upstairs to use the bathroom. Upon walking back into my room, I found Kristin staring directly at the wall. She usually stood with grace and always remained straight in posture, but now her shoulders were hunched and her neck was craned out an inch from the wall, as though she was trying to look through it. Walking back to my bed I stopped next to her and asked her what she was doing. She replied in mummers and nonsensical gibberish. I shook her and told her to stop trying to scare me, but she only kept staring.