Breyer House: The Ouija Experiment
You know that feeling you get? The one you can’t explain, but you know when someone is staring at you, or something is watching you. That base instinct to help you survive when a predator is watching you, hunting you? Trust that feeling; it may be the difference between life and death for you one day. The paranormal has a funny way of making itself known through feelings like this. Please take my warning to heart and learn from my mistakes. It is may already be too late for me to learn from them. Regret is a heavy burden, and I am not sure how much longer I have left. I can feel it: He will be here soon. The eyes outside the window are watching me as I write this, and the whispers in my ears are telling me my soon-to-be fate. I am hiding in one of the pews at the church on the edge of town, but I can’t stay here forever. I’m more scared than I have ever been in my life, but I know I have to go back out there. I have to face what I brought upon myself… I may be able to find the answer in this book, but I may be out of time. Hopefully, whoever finds it after me can finish this for me. So buckle up, dear reader; this is going to be a long one… For you to understand what happened, we have to go back to the beginning, to the moment that shaped me into who I am today. I was ten years old, and this Halloween was about to become one of the most unforgettable experiences of my childhood. My parents, thinking I was finally old enough, agreed to take me to my first haunted house attraction. I had pleaded and promised, swearing that I wouldn’t have nightmares and that I’d do anything they asked if they just took me. The convincing paid off, and I was ready to face the thrill, even if it meant doing extra chores around the house. It was at the old Breyer House, famous in my town for having supposed “real ghosts” that would walk the halls in the late hours. If you were in that house past midnight, you would supposedly experience this all for yourself, but no one believed in it except for the family who owned it. The night had finally arrived—Halloween, my absolute favorite time of the year. I was all set for trick-or-treating and the haunted house that followed. I was bursting with excitement. I got into my zombie costume and had my mom help me with the makeup. Then, with my orange pumpkin bucket in hand, I was ready to kick off the night. I could barely focus on trick-or-treating because all I could think about was that house. When my mom and dad finally told me it was time to go, I jumped up and down, both from overeating sugar and pure excitement for finally being able to go to that house. We drove over, and all I did was stare out the car’s window, watching the trees go by as we drove down the darkening road toward the Breyer House. The road turned to dirt, and before long, we arrived. I jumped out of the car barely half a second after we parked. I took in the house in all its terrifying and exciting glory. The house was old, and the white paint peeled everywhere, revealing the plain, aged wood underneath. The windows looked like they hadn’t been used in ages. It had an old porch that wrapped around the house and rickety-looking stairs leading up to the front door. A man and woman were standing there waiting with a small group of maybe six others. My dad led the way, me hot on his heels, as we walked up the old creaking stairs to be greeted by the man and woman. They introduced themselves as Mr. and Mrs. Breyer. I waved, sporting a big toothy grin missing one of my bottom teeth, and introduced myself. “Hi, I’m Kayla.” With a little wave. The couple laughed. “Well, hello there, little Kayla. You seem pretty excited.” Said Mr. Breyer. “Yes, I am, Mr. I’m gonna see me some ghosts,” I said back, still smiling. Mr. and Mrs. Breyer both laughed again, politely smiling down at me before turning back to the group and making his introduction, as did Mrs. Breyer. They then explained the group’s rules. “Don’t wander around by yourself, stay with the rest of the group. Don’t touch anything in the house; it is very old, and we don’t want any pieces of our family history being broken…” I zoned out, staring, turning around to look at the dark windows of the house; as I was, I could have sworn I saw a figure move past the windows as I watched. Shrugging, I returned to listening to Mr. Breyer as he finished his speech. “Lastly, enjoy yourself and remember you’re safe as long as you stay with us.” He gave a slight chuckle as he said that last part before saying. “All right, follow me.” The group followed Mr. and Mrs. Breyer inside the house. I followed behind my mom and dad in the back of the group, mesmerized by everything I saw. The house inside wasn’t as dark as it appeared on the outside. As we entered, lit candles were all over the inside, illuminating old paintings and the worn wooden walls. I listened briefly to what Mr. Breyer was saying about the house’s history, but I only cared to see if the ghosts were real. I had heard so much about this house from other kids at school. The original Breyer family lived in it, and they were murdered all together late at night by their eldest son, who had supposedly just gone crazy one night. Only one member of their family survived. However, it was the youngest son. He had woken up locked in his room and unable to get out, forced to listen to his own family being murdered. Some people believed he was possessed, others said it was witchcraft, but I now know the truth. I won’t spoil that for you just yet. I was zoned out thinking about this story when I realized I wasn’t with the group anymore but standing before a dark doorway leading down into the basement. There was no candlelight down there. Ghosts couldn’t be real, right? I told myself as I stared down into the blackness. Nothing would stop me from trying to prove that. That was until now. I decided that night to take my first step into the world of the paranormal, the REAL world of the supernatural. My parents found me that night in the bottom of that basement, shaking and wide-eyed, unable to even speak. I was terrified out of my mind. I couldn’t remember anything at first when I was questioned about what happened, but eventually, as I got older, bits and pieces of what happened slowly came back to me. I never spoke about what I remembered to anyone except my friends. The most prominent memory I have is wandering through the dark, feeling hands grab at me and whispers all around me. There was a brief flash of a figure standing in a circle of black-lit candles that burned red, screaming. Then, I remember my parents finding me with the rest of the group watching from the top of the stairs. I always thought it was for the best. I couldn’t remember what happened, but God, I wish I had because maybe my decision tonight wouldn’t have happened. I might even have pursued a different path in life, but there is nothing I can do to change that now. Ever since that night, I have been obsessed with the paranormal. As a child, I watched every movie and TV show. I read books about the supernatural and an unhealthy amount of Stephen King. Spoiler alert that hasn’t changed now that I am older. I had a small group of friends at school, and I didn’t really hang out with too many people. I was considered one of the “weird” kids, but that never bothered me. I was sitting at the lunch table in the cafeteria with Kate, Daniel, and Bryce—my small group of like-minded friends. Daniel was outgoing, and many people knew him at school because he played sports and participated in loads of extracurricular activities at school, but that didn’t stop him from hanging out with us. Kate was in the same boat. She was a perfect girl in school, popular on social media, and always wore makeup to match her curly blonde hair. She was very preppy, but get her talking about the ghosts, and she wouldn’t stop. Ever since she had some scary experiences when she was a kid at a summer camp, but she never told anyone else about it until she met us because she heard about what happened to me. Then there was Bryce, quiet and shy, a lot like myself, not very outgoing, but still fun to hang out with. He was the wealthy grandson of the Breyer family who had heard my story and wanted to share his scary stories, and we bonded over it. They were not as obsessed with the paranormal as I was, but still very interested in it. I started becoming friends with them shortly after returning to school after my experience at the Breyer House. All the kids in school had heard what happened to me and either thought I was somehow possessed by the Demon of the Breyer House or just weird—all except Kate, Daniel, and Bryce. We were all sitting together, chatting about the plans we had made for that night. “So, are we still on for tonight?” Bryce had asked excitedly. “Of course, you think I’d miss an opportunity like this?” I replied with a grin. We had made plans to sneak into the old Breyer House. Daniel had managed to secure a Ouija board, and Bryce, the grandson of the same Mr. and Mrs. Breyer, whom I had met all those years ago, had managed to get his hands on the key to the old Breyer House since his grandparents were out of town and trusted him to watch their house until they got back. The plan was simple: We would sneak into the house around midnight and try to talk to whatever had shown itself to me all those years ago in that dark basement. We would set up the Ouija board in the living room, light a few candles, and hope we could get in contact with whatever was in the house. “I’m literally both equally terrified and sooo excited,” Kate said, giving a little fast clap of excitement. “We are gonna be so famous if we manage to pull this off,” Daniel said. “I already have my camera ready, so we can record the whole thing.” “Good,” I said, “Remember, if anything too crazy starts to happen, we are out of there. None of us need to get hurt to prove ghosts are real.” They all nodded. The bell rang, indicating lunch had ended, so we returned to class. I had that feeling that I had all those years ago, like I was ten years old again, waiting for Halloween night. All I could think about the entire day had been the Breyer House. *What was going to happen tonight?* *Would this work?* *Can we really prove ghosts exist?* All these questions swirled around in my head until, finally, the final bell for the day rang, releasing us from school for the day. I quickly grabbed my backpack and practically sprinted outside to my car, hopping in and racing off home to get ready for the night. I sat around my room, staring at the posters lining the walls from movies like The Conjuring, Annabelle, Paranormal Activity, and Insidious. My bedroom looked like Halloween had puked all over the inside of my room. A bookshelf lined with nothing but horror novels sat on the other side of my room, decorated with Halloween decorations year-round, down to my bed sheets. I lay in bed for hours, drawing in my notebook, listening to horror stories on YouTube, and watching my phone count the hours until 11 pm. When the time finally came, I quietly got out of bed, put on my shoes, grabbed my keys, and snuck out my window. Luckily, I lived on the first floor, so I didn’t have to worry about much of a drop. I saw Bryce’s car already outside, lights off, waiting with two other figures inside. I ran over to the car and hopped in. “Took you long enough to get here,” I said jokingly to Bryce. “Yeah, well, we debated just going without you, but we decided at the last minute to come by and pick you up. I guess Daniel here thinks you could be of some use to the group.” He laughed. I slapped his shoulder, laughing as well. We drove off and couldn’t stop talking the whole way there about what we might see or might happen. It took around twenty minutes to get to the outskirts of town, but we finally hit the familiar dirt road leading to the Breyer House. The excitement was palpable in the air. I looked around at everyone in the car, each person staring out the windshield as the Breyer House came into view up ahead. The old house was illuminated in all its glory by the soft glow of the full moon overhead. I couldn’t help but let a smile spread across my face as I felt my heart racing from adrenaline and even a bit of fear kicking in. Bryce pulled up to the house and parked with the front of the car facing the road we came down in case we needed to get out of there fast. Bryce turned off the car, and we all climbed out. As we started walking up to the house, Daniel pulled out a video camera from his backpack. “All right, guys, the time has finally come,” he began turning it on, the red record light activating. “This is the best paranormal investigation team on the planet here to prove without a doubt that the stories of the Breyer House and ghosts are very real. First, we have our fearless driver and investigator, Bryce.” He pointed the camera at Bryce, and Bryce gave the camera a double thumbs up and a smile. “Next, we have our other investigator, Kate.” He mimicked a ghost-sounding oooh as he turned the camera to her. She smiled, flipped her long blonde hair, and blew a kiss at the camera. “Alrighty, now we come to our amazing lead investigator, Kayla.” The camera pointed at me. I smiled at the camera and gave it a shy wave. “Last, but certainly not least.” He started turning the camera to himself. “Is myself, Daniel, the most handsome and fearless member of this group and certainly the most talented investigator.” Bryce punched him in the shoulder, laughing, “Keep dreaming there, Daniel.” Daniel ignored what he said and kept recording, now turning the camera to the house. The moon provided just enough light for the Breyer House to show up on the camera without turning on the night vision. It looked scarier than before, with the lack of people and the entire place draped in complete darkness despite the moon’s eerie pale glow. “And here is the famous haunted Breyer House,” he said, making another ghostly oooh sound as he panned across the house with the camera. “All right, guys. Let’s head inside. Bryce, will you do the honors?” I said, gesturing to him to open the door. “No problem,” he said with a grin, pulling a small silver key out of his pocket and shoving it into the keyhole, turning the lock over with a click. “Voilà.” He pushed the door open, revealing the darkened interior of the house. I reached into my tiny black backpack I was wearing pulling out flashlights for everyone. We all flicked them on, illuminating the first room of the old house. It looked just like I remembered from my childhood. Bryce pulled out his lighter and lit candles throughout the room to give us better light. The warm orange glow illuminated the stairs more clearly. The wooden staircase leading up the second story of the house was almost directly to the right of the front door. I gazed up at the balcony at the top overlooking where we stood, and for a split second, I thought I had seen something move away from the edge of the balcony out of the light. Just a slight shift in the shadows, so I wasn’t even sure if I really saw something or if it was just a trick of the light. Daniel led the way to the living room, narrating the whole way there, telling the story of the murders in the house and how it became so famous. He even told the story of what happened to me. “Tonight is about proving the existence of these ghosts. Are they fact or fiction?” He asked the non-existent camera audience. As we walked into the living room, Bryce lit all the candles. We all made our way to the couches in front of the fireplace. The couches were old and not much to look at. The leather was cracked and peeling, and the color had faded significantly over the years. It honestly seemed like the Breyers only kept the house to make some extra money from tours during the Halloween season. Upkeep of the place definitely wasn’t their priority. “All right,” Daniel said excitedly, “Let’s get this party started.” He set his camera down on one of the couches so it could still record what we were doing and opened his backpack, revealing an Ouija board and planchette. He pulled them out and set them gently on the table. I reached into my bag, pulled out four black candles, and put them on the table. “Is everyone ready?” I asked, looking around at the group. They all nodded in agreement, and I sat down at the head of the table. The others sat around me so they could each reach the planchette for the board. “Let’s begin,” I said, looking around at each of them. Bryce lit each of the four candles, and we all placed our hands on the planchette. Immediately, I felt eyes on me, not just one but many. I looked around at the others, and their expressions told me they had sensed the same thing. Shaking off the feeling, I moved the planchette three times in a clockwise motion on the board and then spoke, “Is there anyone here who would like to talk with us?” The silence in the house was deafening, not even the sound of creaking from the old wooden boards; it was just silent. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Is there anyone here who wishes to speak to any of us?” “Come on, talk to us. We want to hear YOUR version of the story.” Bryce said. There were a few moments of nothing, then suddenly, like someone had just turned on an air conditioner, there was a cool breeze, and the candles flickered. The air grew heavier and colder, and a shiver ran up my spine. “Whoa,” Kate said, her voice shaking slightly. “I think something is definitely happening.” “Hell, yeah,” Daniel said aloud, turning to the camera. It looks like we have ourselves a real ghost.” The piece slowly came to life, moving to the top of the board to “yes.” I could feel the excitement growing in me, and it was etched across the faces of everyone else at the table. We had actually made contact with someone or something on the other side. “What is your name?” I asked aloud. The piece slid away from “yes” and slowly made its way across the board to “J… A… N… E…” “Wait, Jane? As in Jane Breyer?” Bryce asked. The piece moved back to “yes.” “That’s my great-great grandma,” Bryce said with a smile. “Well,” he began, “I’m your great-great-grandson.” The piece moved around the board as we asked question after question. *“Is there a life after this?” “In a way.”* The board had responded. *“Why haven’t you moved on from here.” “Can’t,”* The board said simply. *“What actually happened here?” “Basement. Floor.”* It spelled out. “What does that even mean?” Daniel asked, looking at all of us. “Don’t look at me,” Bryce responded. “I have actively avoided the basement of this house ever since what happened to Kayla.” He looked over at me. “Maybe there is more to the story than what we know now? What if some of the rumors about what really happened here are true? What if it was possession? Or even some form of witchcraft?” I responded. “It is possible, but we would have to head down there and take a look and I’m definitely not going alone,” Kate spoke up. The board remained silent as we discussed what to do, and then suddenly, it started moving again without any of us asking a direct question. “W…E… R… E… M… E…M…B…E…R…Y…O…U…K…A…Y…L…A…” *We remember you, Kayla. The words echoed in my mind.* Panic mode set in, and my heart started racing a thousand beats a minute. I started breathing more rapidly, and then I felt blood trickle down from my nose onto my lip, and then everything just went black. The next thing I remember was waking up on the couch with everyone staring at me. As my eyes began to focus, Kate spoke first. “Are you okay!?” She demanded the fear evident in her voice. “I’m honestly not sure. My head is pounding I feel like I just got hit over the head with a brick.” I said, sitting up slowly, swaying slightly, and rubbing my forehead. “Slow down there,” Daniel said, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder to steady me. He handed me a bottle of water, and I slowly took a few sips from it before handing it back. The board’s words came back into focus again: “We remember you, Kayla.” The board had spelled this out before I passed out. “I think whatever I saw in that basement when I was a child was trying to communicate with me just now,” I said slowly, considering each word. I could see the looks and concern as each of the group thought about what I had just said. “Does that mean that something else besides just the Beyer House ghosts might actually be here? I mean, we’ve all heard the old stories about the supposed Breyer House demon, but I mean, no one has ever had a supposed experience with it besides Kayla here.” Daniel said, looking to the others for answers that he couldn’t find yet himself. “Actually…” Bryce started slowly, “I have heard a few stories from my grandparents. Stories from when they were kids and used to play in this house. The real reason that we Breyers didn’t live here anymore and decided to move into town…” He paused. “When my grandpa was younger, he and his sister used to live in this house. They would play right here in this living room. Weird things kept happening in the house, but nothing that would ever really be concerning. Things sometimes were moved to a different place than someone had left them, or a door was opened that was previously closed—little things like that. One day, my grandpa and his sister were playing in the basement, which at the time was where they had a playroom with all their toys.” He shifted awkwardly as he spoke, taking another pause before continuing. “They said they saw a man down there chanting something before the basement went pitch black. They screamed and ran upstairs, but the door wouldn’t budge, so they screamed and cried until, eventually, their parents managed to break the door open. As the door swung open, my great grandparents saw a dark figure reaching out to grab the children for a split second before the light touched it, and then like that,” He made a poof sound, “It was gone.” We all just stared at him in shocked silence. Daniel was the first to break the silence, “What the hell, man? You couldn’t tell us this story before?” Bryce’s body suddenly went rigid as if every muscle in his body was frozen in time. Bryce gazed down to the floor and then began speaking slowly, his voice changing to a deeper tone with each word. “I’m sorry guys…but I couldn’t tell you guys this story… Not yet, at least…” “But now…” He began looking up at us. His eyes filled with hate. “The time is right…” He smiled at us, not with joy or happiness but dripping with pure malice. “Thank you… Friends…” That was the last thing he said before a strong gust of wind swirled through the room, and in an instant, the room was plunged into complete darkness. All the candles were completely blown out. “BRYCE!? BRYCE!?” Daniel called out, and then Kate did, and shortly after, I started yelling his name as well. “Where did he go!?” I asked. “Come on, man, this isn’t funny,” Daniel yelled out, the fear evident in his voice as he spoke, trying to sound tough. “I wanna go home now…” Kate spoke softly. “I think it is time for us to…” Her voice was cut short. “Kate?” I asked into the darkness. “Hello? Daniel, turn on your lighter.” With a flick, the small area between us was illuminated in a soft, warm glow, just enough to see a few inches in front of us. “Quick, let’s light some of the candles on the table again,” I told him, gesturing towards the table with the Ouija board. I got off the couch and followed him over to the table. As he lit each candle, the room started returning to focus just slightly. Both Bryce and Kate were just gone. Daniel shot me a look with a mixture of fear and anger. “We need to get out of here now. We can get outside and try to call the police, and I’ll deal with Bryce afterward.” He clenched his fist as he said Bryce’s name. I nodded at him and glanced at the Ouija board sitting on the table, the planchette still in the center of the board, just waiting for the next players to touch the piece. The piece began to move by itself, with no one guiding it anymore. “Daniel,” I spoke softly, pulling on his shirt sleeve, “Daniel! Look!” I pointed at the board. The board began to spell out a new word… I read them out loud as it did… “G…E…T…O…U…T…N…O…W…” “Get out now?” I said, panicking again. “Come on, let’s just go!” I pulled him by his arm toward the front door, trying to flick on my flashlight. It didn’t work the first few times, but with some forced effort, aka slapping the flashlight a few times, it finally turned on. As we left the room, I felt a warm breath behind my ear. It whispered, “You can’t hide from us, Kayla.” Then, a deep inhuman laugh sounded throughout the house, seemingly coming from every direction. My heart was pounding out of my chest as I pulled Daniel along. “We have to go now!” I screamed at him. “Wait!” Daniel yelled, stopping. “My camera—no one will believe us without it. I have to go back.”“Forget the stupid camera,” I said, pleading with him. We need to get out of here NOW!” “You go ahead of me; I’ll be fine.” “No, I am not going to leave you alone in this house, with God knows what. I am coming with you.” I said back, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. He nodded back at me and grabbed my hand, leading me back into the living room. The candles had gone out again, and the only light I could see was from my flashlight, which I showed around the room in all directions, trying my best to light the way. Daniel spotted the camera where he left it on the couch and ran over to it, picking it up. He turned the camera to himself and gave it a half-hearted smile, saying, “Well, that’s all, dear watchers, next step is getting the hell out of here.” Suddenly, a figure appeared behind him before he could step away from the couch. I could see the glint of something shiny in the figure’s hand; it was Bryce, his face barely visible behind Daniel. My voice caught in my throat as I tried to choke out the words, “Dan…Daniel… Look… Look out!” Daniel turned around, confused, and I watched as Bryce plunged a knife directly into the side of Daniel’s neck. I screamed, my hands going to my mouth… “Daniel!” Daniel stumbled a few steps back, dropping the camera before holding his hand up to his neck, “Why…?” Was all he could say before falling to the ground with a thud. Bryce just stood there motionless, the knife dripping fresh blood onto the old wooden floor. Something was wrong, though. He didn’t look like himself. I could see black lines tracing all over his face, and his eyes were glazed over pitch black. He just stood there motionless. I turned and ran out of the room back towards the front door. As soon as I got to the door, I pulled as hard as I could, but it didn’t budge at all. I kicked and punched it, trying to get it to open, but there was still nothing. “Damnit!” I screamed and then turned around, shining my light around the room, at the stairs, and then on the balcony. My light eventually fell on the door to the basement, which was wide open just underneath the staircase. I ran over to it, taking a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves before stepping inside. I quickly and quietly shut the door behind me and locked it with the latch on the inside. It was just as dark, my light barely cutting through it, revealing the steps leading down. I could smell the damp, dusty air of the basement as I descended one creaking step at a time. My breathing increased with every step I took, the fear from what happened when I was a child slowly trying to take over. “Come on, Kayla,” I said quietly, “You’ve got this. There has to be another way out.” As I reached the last step, I searched around the basement, looking for anything, a door, a hole in the wall, quiet anyway, out of this place rather than back up those stairs to what I could only assume was certain death. My mind drifted over what could have happened to Kate, *Where was she?* *Was she even alive?* A loud thud brought me back to reality. I jumped from the sound, and my heart raced even faster. “What the hell?” I said aloud, using my light to search around the room. I hadn’t realized how much stuff was actually in this basement before. There were tons of old paintings and dusty old bookshelves lining the walls—stacks of books piled up in different parts of the floor and an old circular rug. I walked over towards the bookshelves near the rug as quietly as possible, one step at a time; half a foot away from the shelf, I felt one of the floorboards give way under my foot slightly directly underneath the rug. I considered just continuing for a moment, but then my mind flashed back to what the board had spelled out. *“Basement. Floor.”* I leaned down, pulling the rug away from the floor, revealing the boards underneath. Not spotting anything unusual, I started to push them each with my hand until, eventually, one of them shifted unevenly. *Gotcha,* I thought to myself. I set my flashlight down and began pulling the board up from the floor. This revealed a small opening and something square wrapped in an old cloth. I carefully pulled it out, brushed the dust off, and set it in the light. I pulled at the edges of the cloth, letting it fall away, revealing the old leather bindings of a book. Opening the book to the first page, I read what was written on the cover page. *Jack Breyer* I knew that name; it was the name of the oldest son of the original Breyer family who died in the house, supposedly murdered by this exact same son. I began flipping through the pages, trying to read what was on them, and my eyes eventually fell upon a drawing of a pentagram. It had words scrawled throughout the pages in Latin describing its purpose. My eyes eventually fell on a specific phrase written larger than the rest at the top of the page. *Sacrificium lucrari opes* Luckily, I had been taking Latin in school, being such a nerd for the paranormal, so I could understand what this meant easily. It simply translated to sacrifice for wealth. The slow realization hit me about why they keep this house: it isn’t just for some Halloween attraction but something more sinister. The reason the Breyer family remained so wealthy all these years wasn’t just some successful business but something else. Their family had sacrificed people; more specifically, this Jack Breyer had been the first, it seemed. *Did that mean Bryce knew about this all along?* I thought to myself. Suddenly, a loud thud sounded on the door to the basement. Then another, and another. Letting out a sharp breath, I searched around frantically with my flashlight, looking for somewhere to hide, clutching the book in my other hand. *This book was the key to stopping them.* My eyes fell on an uneven line in the wooden boards on the other side of the room’s wall. Running over, I pulled and pushed, looking for a way to open it. I could feel a cool breeze on my face coming through the crack in the wall. *This had to be the way out,* I thought. Looking around, I spotted a hole in the wood next to the crack in the wall and pushed my finger inside. A metallic click sounded, and I fell forward as the wall in front of me gave way, rotating inwards. I landed on my face in the dirt but quickly hopped to my feet and pushed the door closed behind me. As I did so, a loud crash and the sound of splintering wood came from the door to the basement above me. I listened through the crack in the door as slow; heavy footsteps echoed through the silent basement as Bryce descended the stairs. “Oh, Kayla.” A voice called out. It sounded nothing like Bryce… It was deeper and more guttural. It barely sounded human. “I know you’re in here… Come out, come out wherever you are…” He called out again in a mocking tone. I watched as he looked around the basement, my eyes adjusting just enough to see his silhouette. His head was locked in the place on the floor where I had pulled the book from. “I see you found my journal, Kayla. You know it isn’t very nice to steal from your friends.” A shocking realization hit me at that moment: *Was Bryce actually Jack Breyer?* I had known Bryce my whole life; it couldn’t be as simple as that. I slowly backed away from the doorway and slowly began making my way in the opposite direction toward the breeze of the outside air. Eventually, I stumbled out of an opening at the end of the tunnel, the moonlight bathing me in its pale glow. Clicking off my flashlight, I fell to my knees, everything hitting me all at once, and I sobbed. *Was Daniel really dead? And Kate?* *What do I do now?* I can’t think of this now. Wiping my eyes, I took a shaky breath and stood up, looking around to see where the tunnel had let me out. It seemed like I was only a hundred meters or so from the house. I couldn’t stay that close; I needed to leave and try and get help. I turned and ran, not looking back once. Tears streamed down my face as branches and bushes cut and scratched me. I could hear disembodied voices and sounds all around me as I ran. There were whispers in my ear that he was coming and others telling me that I would die a horrible death. Things like, “Your soul is his.” And then another voice said, “Don’t stop; get out.” It seemed that the cacophony of voices were both for and against my survival. Eventually, I stumbled out onto the main road, coming out of the woods, sweat dripping down my face and burning my eyes. My legs burned with every fresh step, but I pushed myself forward. *The church… I have to get to the church—was all I could think of*. *It had to be close.* As I continued running, a streetlight appeared up ahead and then another. I could barely make out the entrance to the road leading up to the church. I sprinted over to it and ran up the path. When the church came into view up ahead, I ran straight up to the front door and swung it open before closing the door behind me and quickly locking it. I ran over to one of the chairs next to the door and used it to block the door handle before running to one of the pews and hiding under it out of view of the windows. Now we come to where this story started: hiding in this church, hoping and praying for someone to come and save me, but I think I have slowly realized I am alone. I will have to go out there and face Bryce eventually. The sun should have risen hours ago, but I haven’t been able to reach a single person on the phone. I’m unsure if this story will be able to post or not, but I will try anyway. The most I can do is hope at this point. If you’re reading this, I must have figured something out, and I will tell you what I have learned when I have the chance. If you have had any similar experiences or have any ideas on how to stop this cycle of death from continuing, I am begging for your help; there has to be some way to end this completely… Credit: The Weaver Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on Creepypasta.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed under any circumstance.