Jack laid in the prison-like bed. How can anyone sleep in this thing? It's so creepy! Jack tossed and turned the bed, though being many years old, not the only reason why sweet slumber would not come to him. One reason was the creepy noises he heard. The oak tree outside of the bedroom cast moving shadows and it always looked like someone was watching him from the outside. There was one outreaching branch that was so long that it sometimes attacked the bay's window and made a loud noise. It also didn't help that it looked like a bony pointer finger; like death's skeleton hand pointing to him and marking him as his next victim. No, he wouldn't get sleep tonight.

Then there was the other problem. The thing he saw and heard many hours before. He had first thought it was a ghost, but what if it was an intruder? He didn't know if they were still inside the house. Many of the previous tenants left the house claiming that it was haunted the first day and never came back. It was his first night here and he was sleeping in the supposed ghost's bed. He cursed himself for putting his mattress in the truck first. Maybe it was a good thing that he couldn't sleep. If he didn't sleep that meant that no one could kill him in his sleep or at least he'd had a fighting chance of survival.

"This is just my luck," Jack said. The use of the word luck brought back a memory for Jack. It was before his school building burnt down. That day, he had gotten so angry at his bullies that they got into a fight. It wasn't unusual for them to fight, but this was in the bathroom. The bobbed and arrived and he managed to hit the other boy once, but the older boy also managed to hit him in the head. Jack's nose was broken and his eyes were tearing up making his vision and bit burly. In his fury, he missed the boy and punched one of the bathroom's mirrors. They all gasped in shock and the fight had ended. The bully laughed at him claiming that now he had seven years of bad luck and the nickname 'Bad Luck Jack' was born.

Somehow in the creepy house, Jack began to fall asleep. He didn't remember when he did or how, but what he doesn't remember is warming up to the sound of crying. It sounded like a friend was crying. It made Jack want to comfort this girl, but that want to comfort quickly faded away once he realized where he was. He was in the Victorian house and someone else was maybe still with him. Was it the intruder crying over breaking into my house? Jack pondered this thought but ultimately didn't think it was true. Why would someone cry in this house?

Nonetheless, Jack decided to check out the noise. Maybe he was hearing it wrong. Maybe it was something else making the noise; an animal perhaps.

Walking out of the bedroom with the bed, he decided down the stairs. Each slow step greeted him with a creek of some kind like a weird, broken piano. Thankfully he didn't fall down the stairs. When he was down the stairs he blinked. He then took his phone and used it as a flashlight. It was much easier to see and he could now move quicker than before.

Jack listened some more and made his way to the kitchen. It sounded like it was coming from the kitchen, but it was empty. To his right was a closet, a counter, and a table all against or incorporated into the wall. In front of him were two windows. The only thing to Jack's left was the sink,  another counter, and another staircase that went upstairs to another hall which was closer to the bathroom. Jack's eyes glazed to his left a little longer. There was one other place that they could have hidden. The staircase went up, but it also went down.

Even with his flashlight, he felt very scared as he descended the stairs for a second time, this time at night with a person on the other side. Who may or may not want to kill him. He stopped at the bottom which was cold concrete. The floor became a deterrent for him; an impediment or hindrance; a reason why he should just go back to bed and wait until morning.

Jack's phone stunned upon the locks, chains, and boards that made it evident that whoever or whatever was behind the door was something that was to be kept out of; like it was a secret. The crying continued and it was definitely coming from behind the door.

He knocked upon the wood making the chains rattle from the gentle force. "Um...h-hello?" He said, but with his voice filled with fear and uncertainty, it sounded more like a question. It also didn't help that his voice cracked. The crying had ceased with a gasp. They know I'm here. What will they do? He cleared his throat and with feigned confidence, he asked, "Are you okay?"

There was silence in the air, but he could hear the fainting of movement from the other side. It sounded like a gentle zephyr. He waited and waited some more. It reminded him of being in school during a test when the only sound you hear is the ticking of the clock. It's a race to the end as you scramble to get done on time. When he couldn't hear anything else he was tempted to walk away.

He turned around when he heard it. "Please don't leave."

The voice was faint and it sounded like it belonged to a child because it was so small. He turned around to face the door. "I won't go," he said in return, but his mind wouldn't shut up about a possible intruder baiting him in order to kill him.

"It was just a joke," the girl from the other side said.

"What do you mean?"

"They always leave."

"Leave what?"

"Leave the house; leave me."

Jackson took a step closer, putting his face against the door with all of its accessories. "What do you mean?"

"I'm stuck in here."

.~👻~.

Shalom Seedings!
What was the worse night sleep you have ever gotten and why?
For me, it's for two reasons.
1) My room is cold. At night it is not cold, but in the morning it is and I hare waking up ready because of the cold and do not go back to sleep.
2) My parents sometimes watch movies when I try to sleep which is annoying because I can hear it from my bedroom and it sometimes keeps me up.
3) I wake up sad. It's never a good thing to have up sad, but sometimes I watch up sad and it's never a good experience. I don't like when it happens, but I feel like I can't change it sometimes.