CHAPTER THREE
CURSE

"Not always. Spirits can attach themselves to buildings as well as people," I said, looking at them. Roger's expression darkened, and I could tell it irritated him.

"I'm talking to your parents here, kid," Roger snapped, his voice sharp.

"My son has the same gifts I do," my mom interjected, standing up for me. "He's the one who convinced us to come here. He saw the spirit in a vision."

I was getting annoyed now. "I may seem like a kid, but I've seen things you can't even imagine, and I've made it out the other side. You can trust me," I said, my tone firm.

"We have to get out of here," Carolyn said, her voice filled with worry.

"I'm afraid that's not going to help," Dad said, his gaze fixed on them. "Lorraine and I have seen something too. Go ahead," he nodded at us.

"We've been seeing the dark entity," Mom continued, looking at me before speaking again. "It haunts your house and your land. First, when we came through your door, it latched onto your back. And again, with the girls, when we walked into the living room. It doesn't matter where you go—this entity has latched onto your family and is feeding off you. That explains the bruises you keep waking up with. It's not going away, and we need to stop it before it hurts you and your family."

"Even if we leave?" Carolyn asked, her voice trembling.

"Yes," I said, taking a deep breath. "It'll follow you."

"Sometimes, when you get haunted, it's like stepping on gum. You take it with you," my dad said, his voice heavy with experience. Carolyn's face grew pale, and I could see her fear deepen.

"Look, I've gotta tell you, you have a lot of spirits in this house, but this one... this one's the worst. It's full of hate," Mom said. I could feel its hate too—it despised that their family was happy.

"Okay, so what do we do? Can we call a priest?" Roger asked, his voice full of uncertainty.

"I wish it were that easy," Dad replied, shaking his head. "An exorcism is an archaic procedure. It requires years of training, and even then, I've seen it go horribly wrong. But before we can even get that far, the church has to authorize it. That means we need to investigate, gather evidence, and provide proof—that's the hard part."

We all stood up, heading outside.

"Have your children been baptized?" Dad asked as we descended the steps of the porch.

"Uh, no. We never got around to it," Roger admitted, looking guilty. "We're not really a churchgoing family."

"Well, you may want to rethink that," Dad said. "Our presence here could make things worse."

"Why?" Carolyn asked, confusion in her voice.

"Because we're a threat," I said, meeting her gaze. "And whatever this spirit is, it's not going to like us being here."

"So far, it hasn't done anything violent, and that's a good sign," Dad added, trying to reassure them. "But we're going to have our guy do some research on the property to see what we're up against."

I whispered to Carolyn, "My parents are the best. You guys are going to be just fine."

She smiled faintly and placed her hand on my shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered.

Later, back at our house, I headed into the living room, looking through old books and files I'd found in the library.

"Hey, buddy. What are you up to?" my dad asked as he entered the room and sat down next to me.

"Just looking through my research," I said, still flipping through pages.

"Find anything good?" Dad asked, smiling.

"I found something about what the locals called the curse," I replied, looking up at him. "Everyone who's owned the property has died under mysterious circumstances. It's believed that the property was cursed by the first owner."

"That's great work, buddy," Dad said, ruffling my hair before putting his headphones on to listen to the tape.

Later, after Judy had gone to bed, my mom, dad, and I sat down at the table. Dad turned on the tape player, and it began to play.

"My name is Ed Warren. It's November 1st, 1971. I'm sitting here with Carolyn Perron, who, with her family, has been experiencing supernatural occurrences... Okay, go ahead, from the first occurrence," the tape started. But then we noticed something strange—Carolyn didn't speak, which was odd because I had been there when she did.

"Nothing," Dad said, looking at my mom. "That's strange. Is there a chance something's wrong with the tape?"

"I don't know," I said, glancing between them. "Did you two find anything?"

"Only what I told you," I added, a bit disappointed.

Mom picked up a photo and handed it to us. "Lots. I mean, it's no wonder they're going through what they are."

She passed us a photo of the house—an old one. "That's the original farmhouse. It was built in 1863 by a man named Judson Sherman. He was married to a woman, Ed... she's related to Mary Towne Estye."

"Wait, wasn't she one of the women accused of witchcraft in Salem?" I asked, looking at my mom.

"Yeah, she was hanged during the trials," Mom replied.

"Wow," I murmured, looking at the old photos.

"After Judson got married, they had a baby. When the baby was seven days old, Judson caught his wife sacrificing it in front of the fireplace. She ran out to that tree by the dock, climbed up, proclaimed her love to Satan, cursed anyone who tried to take her land, and hung herself," Mom continued, before picking up another document.

"Time of death was pronounced at 3:07 in the morning," she said solemnly.

"Wait... didn't the Perrons say the clocks stopped, the smell, and the cold all happened at 3:07? It can't be a coincidence," I said, my voice tight with realization.

"That explains a few things," Dad said, his voice low.

"Yeah, so does this," Mom said, picking up a book-like object with two photos inside. She pointed to one woman. "She had a boy named Rory who mysteriously disappeared in the woods. Then, she killed herself in the cellar. And that's not all," she said, spreading out a map. "The original 200-acre farm has since been subdivided and sold off. There was another boy who drowned in a pond here. He lived in a house over here, and a woman who worked as a maid in a neighboring home—she committed suicide too."

"The curse," I said, my heart pounding as I looked at them.

"They didn't have a name for it, but in my research, they called it the curse. They didn't understand what was happening there, but they knew it was something dark," I said, a chill running down my spine.

"People who took her land," Dad murmured, his eyes wide with fear.

Before we could say anything more, the tape suddenly clicked on by itself, playing once more:

"I'm sitting here with Carolyn Perron, who, with her family, has been experiencing supernatural occurrences... Okay, go ahead, from the first occurrence."

We heard a loud wheezing in the background, followed by voices—a woman wailing and girls screaming. My eyes flicked to the clock. It was 03:07 in the morning.

The next morning, Drew and I headed back to the house with the camper van to bring the equipment, while Mom and Dad traveled in their car. As we stood near the van, a car approached.

"Here's Brad," Mom said as Brad got out of the car.

"You find it okay?" Dad asked, looking at Brad.

"Oh, yeah," Brad replied, sounding pleased with himself.

"Drew, this is Officer Brad," Mom introduced Drew to Brad, while my dad began unloading the camper.

"Officer Brad Hamilton, Harrisville, Rhode Island PD," Brad said, shaking Drew's hand before turning his attention to the house.

"Brad, this isn't *Top Gun*, you can take off the shades," I said sarcastically, making him laugh.

End Of Chapter 3