Shortly after arriving at my new home, I quickly discovered that it wasn’t quite as idyllic as I’d hoped.

That’s not to say that it isn’t a nice house. On the contrary, it’s a spacious and clean Victorian-style home with several large bedrooms, a lavish living room and a sparkling kitchen. There are two opulent spiral staircases that seem to go on forever. The previous tenants were kind enough to include all of the furnishings, and the smell of new paint still permeates the air.

However, I’d barely settled in when I began to hear ominous whispering through the walls. I couldn’t always hear clearly what those voices were saying, but occasionally I could make out things like “…never wanted her…burn in hell…wish she’d die…”

I’d often find that during the night much of the furniture had been completely rearranged, or lights would be on in rooms I’d not been in. There were echoes of footfalls and of doors slamming shut and other loud noises that were impossible to ignore.

But what truly shook me was a singularly disturbing discovery in the attic. Scattered among the cobwebs and broken furniture were hundreds of crumpled and grotesque drawings; gruesome depictions of murder and gory dismemberment by a child-like hand in what appeared to be crayon.

I never slept. My thoughts were tortured relentlessly with the graphic images of malevolence and horror that I’d seen, and all I could think was what kind of sick and twisted mind must it take to conjure such hatred?

The longer I lived in the home, the more frightened I became. I never ventured outside, fearful that whatever might lurk within the house might be lurking without. It somehow seemed safer to confine myself to the cavernous luxury of a home that I could no longer enjoy.

Just when my suffering became unbearable, there occurred a brief respite from the haunting. Several days had passed and the house was blissfully silent.

Then the terror returned and I finally came face-to-face with the demonic ghoul that had long been toying with me.

I was sitting on the couch admiring the photographs within a random book I’d found. The language was foreign to me, but the pictures were fascinating. Suddenly I heard a loud bang followed by rapid pounding accompanied by a shrieking laughter so shrill and voluminous that my ears rang for days. The sounds became louder, and in a panic I ran towards the front door, hoping to escape.

Halfway there I froze, overcome with paralyzing fear and terror. The door was wide open.

Peering at me through the door was an enormous blue eye. It blinked once and then twice.

Suddenly, the ghastly beast screamed “Mooooommmyyy! My new dolly is moving around on her own!”

Just as quickly as it came, it fled, weeping.

I’ve since retreated to the attic, cowering beneath a blanket. I’ve thrown this letter out the window in the hopes that someone might find it.

Someone like you.