When I was younger My older sister loved to write me stories. The last story she wrote for me scared me, even though it wasn't a story it was a poem. The one part of the story that scared me the most was the poem towards the end of the story. I can't explain how to say this to you so I'm just gonna let you read it for yourself
She paints a pretty picture
But the story has a twist
Her paintbrush was her razor
And her canvas was her wrist
She paints a pretty picture
In a color that's blood red
And using her sharp paintbrush
She ends up finally dead
Her pretty pictures fading
Quite slowly up her arm
Blood no longer flows through her
She can no longer do her harm
Yes, she painted a pretty picture
But the story has a twist
You see, her mind was just her razor
And her heart was just her wrist
When I turned thirteen I understood what she meant
What she meant was self-harm
But what I didn't know... the last story was about her
As i was growing up I knew she struggled with depression
But here's the thing, She had died before I was born...... and I always saw her up until the time I was eleven. That's when she stopped appearing to me, but to our younger brother, I saw her sitting with him all the time when I got up in the night to check on him. One night she came to me and warned me, she told me that something evil was attached to the house, and to be careful in my room and my younger brothers room. "Why?" I murmured as to not wake our younger brother up. She replied with "Because this is the thing that drove me to kill myself in the first place. Just please be careful." after I had told her that I would, she said that something was coming and to hide myself and James. So I grabbed James, and hid under my blanket with him, hearing my bedroom door squeak open, and slam shut. That was what woke James up. I whispered softly to him telling him to stay quiet, and curl into my chest. I heard the thing breathing heavily for what seemed like hours but in reality, it was only ten minutes when IT left our sister told us it was safe to come out, but before we could it broke the door and saw our sister floating there staring at the door hoping and praying it didn't find us. It saw the shaking of the bed frame, and the covers and went to lift the blanket off of James and me, but I jumped up on the bed and hoped to god that I could drop kick the god damned thing away from James.
A/N this story is not completed, i'm working on completing it right now. so if you could wait a little while. thanks, your wonderful author Gabe
