On the sixth night…no dream. Had I made it up? The entire week I was too scared to fall asleep. I would spend most of my time making lesson plans for my students or sitting at a coffee shop down the road just to get out of that room. I was so busy, I did not remove the painting yet. How could a painting cause bad dreams anyway? One sweltering hot afternoon I left the coffee shop earlier than usual to seek out some coolness in my apartment. I opened the door carefully as if not to disturb anyone inside, but I knew I was alone. Once inside I did not need the aircon, as my room always maintained a chilly atmosphere no matter how hot it was outside. Usually I would avoid it, but today the heat outside was too much to bear. I laid with my head at the foot of my bed and tried to fight my urge to sleep.

My eyes turned to the painting. I started counting the hundreds of branches on the tree. I counted and drifted slowly to sleep when I saw something else in the painting. I counted one, two, three, four, five…what was I counting? Almost asleep I squinted my eyes and when I realised what I was counting I held my hand over my mouth to stop me from screaming…the black figures were not all branches, they were hanging bodies.

That was the final straw. I was taking the painting down. Instead of asking the landlord I decided to rip it off myself at five in the morning. I pulled and pulled but the cheap wooden frame held firmly against the wall. I was so frustrated and it was getting late so I left the painting to get ready for work. Just as I turned around to leave I heard a scratching sound and then a low growl like a dog about to attack. What the hell was that? I walked to the painting, but it had changed. The girl was not crying or praying, she had her head snapped back and her eyes flaming red like a demon from hell. I screamed and stumbled back as I tried to get away. This time I was wide awake, this was not a dream. The painting started shaking and with a loud crack came falling to the bed. Behind it was a large hole in the wall that seemed to stretch back endlessly. How could a hole that deep be in this wall without me seeing into the next apartment? The next thing I saw shocked me even more…hair. Pitch black hair was slowly coming from the hole and falling down toward my bed. Not wanting to see this anymore I got up and attempted to run, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t look away from the black hole, when suddenly she appeared. The girl from the painting. She was crawling out of the wall while her dislocated jaw dragged under her face. She moved jaggedly as if her bones were all broken while dragging herself out. I wanted to scream but I couldn’t do anything! All of a sudden she flew toward me and grabbed my shoulders. I knew what would come next, I had been dreaming about it all week. She put her open mouth in front of my face and then the cat howl began. I closed my eyes and prayed. After several minutes I realised she was gone and her howling was gone too…it was just me, screaming alone in my room.

***

Tell us: Do you think she will move out of that haunted house?