I was 9 years old when my parents bought this
new house on Revolutionary road, Connecticut. Bored by busy city life, they
wanted a calm and isolated place to live by. It was 18th century
architectural marvel, ivy-dispersed,
hidden behind trees, high-ceilinged and packed with corridors.
The house was abandoned by its owners 10 years ago. To be sure, our new house had a degree of
disrepute. Local gossip believed that it show off three “presences”: a woman
who stalked the ground floor, an elderly doctor forever racing up its stairs
searching for a dying grandson. There was even what appeared to be the indispensable
bloodstain that could not be removed, since covered with carpet. Some
say it was haunted house and evil spirits choose this house for their sinful chanting.
One of the neighbors also told my father that the owners elder son was
mysterious died in crimson pool of blood one night and after that, they left the
house and went somewhere unknown.


The moment I enter
the house, it felt weird. The house was in devastating situation and needs
urgent re-modeling.  It looks like a haunted
house which was being colonized by ghostly spirits of the departed
who may have been former inhabitants or were familiar with the property.
Fireplace in master bedroom had a fresh pile of ashes which my parents actually
over-looked. The house had five rooms, including a kitchen and 3 attached
bathrooms. Servant quarters were also located inside the walled boundary few
yards away from the main enterance.It also had a front and backyards. And yet
there was something unsettling about the house, like it is already occupied and
we are intruders. It never felt quite empty. Footsteps heard, door slammed on
their own etc.

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remember the first night I had in our new house. I was kept awake all night. I
heard strange noises like something in a foreign language. It sensed like someone
is dancing around a fire. It reminded me of a book I read few months ago about Mesoamericans who used to do ‘Dance of Flyers’
(an ancient form of dance) as a way to
conciliate the gods and end the drought.

Next morning, I looked like hell. My mother
asked me if I slept well last night in my new room, I said, yes as I didn’t
want to frighten her with whatever I heard all night.


One Saturday, I was
in the upstairs bedroom of the right-side duplex.  This bedroom was directly above my parent’s
bedroom.  We were well into the renovation
of the room.  I was curious after
everything we had found in the walls. And off course what was happening with me
after he shifted into this house. I wanted to snoop around and see what else I
could find. There was something seriously wrong with this house. After all. All
myths are somehow based on something happened somewhere at sometime. I climbed
up on a broad closet shelf that was about chest high.  There was nothing to see.  It was just a closet with a pole for
clothing.  But the higher, third tier,
looked interesting.  I pulled myself onto
the higher, much smaller, shelf.  On the
ceiling of this area, which wasn’t much bigger than a cubby hole, there was a
removable ceiling panel.  None of us had
opened it before.  I removed the panel.
It was very heavy and difficult to move. I pulled it with all the energy I had.  It was an attic access.  Dust came down with the panel.  Judging from how much dust fell, no one had
been in that attic for years.      

I reached my arm up
into the hole and began to feel around. If the floor was sound, I intended to
poke my head up in there and look around. 
As I was feeling around, my hand hit off something hard.  It felt like a book.  I slid it out.  The book was completely covered in a solid
layer of dust as it had been there for years. I was intrigued because someone
took the effort to hide this book. There must be something significant about
this book.  It must have belonged to
someone who lived here before.  I smiled
to myself, a mystery! 

I hit the dust off
it.  It was a red hard back book with a
gold pentagram on the cover.  At the
time, not knowing what a pentagram was, I called it the “pointy star
book.”  I assumed that, since the book
had been hidden, it must have been someone’s secret. 

At that moment, I decided
that this book was too interesting to tell my folks about.  I wanted to have more time to look it over
myself. They might have taken it away from me if they knew where I found it.  I replaced the attic access panel, swept away
the dust, jumped down from the shelf, and headed toward the door.  I paused and put the book up my blouse.  I didn’t want to risk anyone seeing what I
had.  I peaked in the hallway and looked
down the stairs to make sure no one was coming. 
I tiptoed the short distance out of the room, darted down the hallway,
and went into my room.  I closed the
door.  I was so excited that my palms
were sweating.  My pulse was racing.  I started to flip through the pages.  It didn’t take much examination to figure out
that this was no ordinary book.  My eyes
scanned down the pages and I picked out words I could make out here and
there.  It was a book about spells and
witchcraft.  It had words and scary
images. It had magical signs all over it. There were pictures of the devil and
demons.  I came across one picture that
made me pause.  This picture featured a
fancy decorative amulet.  There were words all around the outside of
the necklace.  I think the words were in Latin.
The pages contained both spells and stories. 
I was frightened a bit but my inquisitiveness took over my fear.

The more I read, the
more curious I became.  I think my
curiosity was fueled because of my upbringing. 
My parents were not involved with any organized religion.  We did not attend church or talk about God in
our house.  I went to church just once
with my mother.  It was not long after we
moved in to the house.  I liked the
church. Maybe that is one place where evil cannot enter. The people were
friendly and welcoming.  After services,
they took time to personally speak with us and they invited us back.  I remember the church offering to pick me up
so I could attend services even if my mother didn’t.  That never happened though and the church
ended up moving.

Friends at school
talked about going to church.  Why didn’t
we go?  I asked my mother about it.  She told me that she felt we should be free
to decide about God when we were older. 
I was always curious about God. 
This curiosity included learning about the good that God
represented.  But I was also curious
about evil.  Who or what was God
protecting us from?  Why He created evil
for? If we have to follow Good only? How could evil be destroyed?

My desire to know
both good and evil meant I was also curious about the devil.  When I started looking over the images in the
book, I immediately felt that there was a link to all of this.  It all seemed to be connected.  Maybe I was supposed to find this book. Maybe
because Evil choose me. Maybe because evil always inspired me so much.I found a
hidden book, it was only a few feet from the boarded-up staircase, and just
across the room from the wall with the photographs and coins. 

The book scared
me.  But, along with that fear, there was
a thrill because it was my secret.  No
one else knew about my find.  Of all the
places my folks could have started remodeling, they chose this room.  It felt like something had to have influenced
my family to start with renovating this room. 
There must be something left undone.

I knew the book was
too mature for me.  I didn’t understand
most of the words. They were above my level of understanding. The pictures were
grotesque and frightening.  I wondered
why someone bought this book.  I wondered
who hid the book. Most of all, I wondered why they abandoned it. What made
someone to hid this book and what it is used for.    

I kept the book
hidden in my room.  I felt compelled to
spend all my free time reading this mysterious book. I was getting used to
reading it. It made me felt divine. I was getting a thrill from reading
it.  I also felt this “charge” in the air
of my room.  It was as if the forces in
the house that wanted me to find this book were also interested in me reading
it.  When I laid on my floor, propped up
on my elbows reading through the pages of the book, I felt like there were many
unseen eyes all watching me and I am not alone anymore.

Just like I had this
sense of encouragement to keep on reading, there was another small voice inside
of me in opposition.  This voice was
telling me to stop reading the book.  Put
it down.  Give it to your parents.  Throw it away.  The voice prompted me that there was good
reason for this book to scare me. That was Good VS Evil.  I ignored that voice.  Instead, I was thinking more and more about
the power this red spell book would give me if I studied it.   It could resist reading it. It felt
something was drawing me towards it.

Not only did I study
the book at home but this book went with me to school as well.  I changed. 
I became paranoid and protective of the book.  I was uncharacteristically introverted at
school.  I only had minimal contacts with
other students.  I started missing lunch
breaks as well and dedicated that time reading this as well.This was so
different from how I was before the book. 
I would always be the kid up for a game of chase, riding the see saw, or
playing jump rope games.  But not after
the book came into my life. 


After this
“treasure” entered my life I wanted to take it with me everywhere.  I was its guardian angel. Before I left for
school, I would hide the book in my backpack.   
During recess, I carried my book bag outside with me.  I left the concrete playground and walked
toward the woods.  Only when I found a
safe spot, far from the playground teachers, would I then sit down and pull the
book out. 

The spell I kept
coming back to related to the amulet.  It
was a love spell. Wow, I had no idea that words, said in a certain order and
with a certain intention, could make someone love me.  The book promised that the spell was supposed
to cause the “intended” to instantly fall in love with the person who recited
the spell.  Now, that was power! 

Again, that small
voice tried to warn me.  It said to my
mind, “these are evil thoughts.”  Yes,
even at the age of nine, I knew it was wrong for one person to try to control
another person’s thoughts and emotions. 
I successfully convinced myself to ignore the voice.  After all, how could love ever be evil?






I got up and went
off to school with my book in my bag. 
This had become my routine.  What
made this day different was that I felt an unexplainable urgency to share the
book with my closest school friend.  I
was confidant she would be impressed with my discovery. She would be as intrigued
by this book as I was. But I was wrong. 
She was not receptive.  She was
bored.  She gave the book no more than
ten seconds of attention before she decided it was nonsense and that she would
rather take a ride on the sliding board than to spend another second looking at
my boring book.  She tossed the book back
at me.  I was disappointed by her

I caught the book
and carefully placed it back in my bag. 
I was angry and confused.  Why
didn’t the book excite her like it had me? I stubbornly concluded that she
didn’t understand the power of the book like I did.  She was not meant to read it anyway.

I remember that I
was anxious to get home and look at this magical book some more.  I felt like I had failed in some way at
making her see how special the book was. 
I was hurt that she didn’t value the book. After all, she was my best friend;
she would have given it a look. Of everyone else, I thought her worthy of
showing this book to. I thought the book was precious.  After all, it offered a way to make people
love me.  I also remember that, above all
else, I had to keep my folks from learning that I had this book.  I knew they would take it from me and I
wasn’t willing to take that risk.  I
became increasingly paranoid of a teacher discovery my book too.  I have safeguarded it.

Just to be
completely safe, I decided not to take the book back to school with me anymore.  I couldn’t be away from the book entirely
though.  I opened it to my favorite spell
with the amulet.  I traced the picture
and the Latin words onto a blank sheet of paper.  I folded up the paper and placed it in my
coat pocket.  I kept my hand on it whenever
I wore the coat.   I just wanted to be
sure it’s with me all the time.  If I was
sad at school, I would go off by myself and pull the paper out.  I would stare at the drawing and run my
fingers over the words.  I would silently
sound out the words around the picture. 
I was careful not to speak them out loud.  I had to get this spell right because I had a
boy I liked and these magic words were going to make him love me.

My friend from the
playground slide wanted me to come over to her home for a sleep over.  After how she looked at my book and ignored
it, I wasn’t really in the mood to visit her house and stay over. But then I
thought she might like my book this time. I asked my mother for permission and
she agreed. I went with her straight after school. I was wearing my uniform and
still had my paper in the coat’s pocket. I had the red witchcraft book in my
bag as well.  I was determined to make
her look at it and give it the attention it deserved.  I had to wait for just the right time to
bring it up. 

We watched
television and eat pop corns. Her mother called out for dinner and we sat on
the dining table with her parents and younger sister. Her mother was very nice
to me and asked about my hobbies. We had a nice chit chat over the delicious
meal. Her mother was indeed a good cook.

We left for her room
once the dinner is done. We looked at all the neat junk in her bedroom.  She liked to make small pieces of jewelry for
herself. My friend liked to make custom barrettes. 
She would weave ribbons on the barrette and add beads to the long tails
of the barrettes. She even made me a beautiful bracelet out of pink and golden
beads. I also helped her make a couple. 
I thought that if I showed an interest in her hobby that maybe, she
would look at my book again. Maybe, she would also like what I like to do. I
patiently waited for my turn to share.   

When it was bed time
we camped out in the living room.  I
thought to myself, finally, we can read over the book together and pick out
spells to try. All that time in her house, I was gathering courage to talk to
her about the book. Finally; I reached into my bag and pulled out the pointy
star book. She was hesitant to hold it at first but finally She took the book
into her hands and started looking at it. This time she really did look it
over. But it didn’t go well. 


My friend and I were
both very young and I think she must have been more sheltered by her parents
than I ever had been. Her parents used to spend more time with her everyday no
matter how tired or worn out they would have been. I had seen my share of
horror movies.  Just in our quick
overview of the book, the pictures terrified her.  She was shaking, and she actually started to
cry. I closed the book immediately and started consoling her. I told her that
there is nothing to be afraid of. It’s just another horror book. She threatened
to show her parents my book if I didn’t stop talking about it instantly. I
closed the book and put it back into my bag. I never thought she would be that
much scared of what I love a lot.

We sat quietly for a
while. It was a rainy and cold night. Emily’s house was surrounded by dense trees.
It looks scarier when it rains. Lying on bed, I was unable to sleep. While
listening to the rumbling sounds of storm outside, I thought about the book.

Suddenly, the window
glass shattered and scattered all over the floor. Emily and I jumped out of bed
and started screaming with fear. Rain water started pouring in the room like a
water duct. Emily rushed towards the door and tried to open it, but it was
closed. She started kicking it but in vain. I suddenly thought about my book
and ran towards my bag to grab it before water ruins it.  We again tried opening the door but it was
locked as if someone has pulled heavy furniture behind it. Water was constantly
coming in the room and we were down into it till our knees. We jumped on the
bed and hugged each other tight and started crying for help. Mama, Dad where
are you? Emily yelled with fright. It was pitching dark and we were panic
stricken. I suddenly pulled my hands into my pocket and took out the paper. The
Latin words were gone, they just literally disappeared. The Spell has been

Door slammed open
and shut on its own.  There was someone
behind the door. He called my name. He was asking me to come close. I knew him.
I knew he was the same boy at school I used to read Latin words for. I wanted
him to fall in love with me and now he has come for me. He has arrived to take
me with him. The evil spell has begun.  “I
Love you”, “Come to me honeybunch”, his wheezy voice rose higher and higher as
his face dashed in the door way. I shrieked as I saw his face. He had a hideous
appearance. His face was as cold and white like winter’s moon. He had facial
hairs as tough as boar’s quills. His legs were stiff and skinny.  His creepy skeletonized hand reached out and
clutched my hand. He started dragging me towards him. Emily resisted and did
not let me go. He grabbed her with hair and threw her away. She laid there
screaming in agony.  He then turned
towards me, don’t you love me? How can I ever harm you my love? He whispered. He
held me with one hand and put his lips on mine. “Let me kiss you and you will
be mine forever” I could feel his foul smell on my face. My knees were
trembling with fear. At one moment, I felt they have become paralyzed.

Let me go, I screamed
in misery. Tears rolled down from my cheeks like pearls.

Is this something
you learned from your book? I mean scaring people around you with your dreadful

I heard Emily’s
voice. How could she be so rude to me? I thought to myself.  I opened my eyes and looked around. i jumped
out of bed and Good Lord, I was dreaming. It was just a dream. My knees were
knocking with both fear and happiness. I looked around and out of the window. Window
glass was still intact as it was earlier. Sun has come up and it was fine sunny
morning. I was still breathing heavily. Droplets of sweat rolled down from my
forehead. I could not believe it was a nightmare. I have been through hell. It was
indeed one of the most horrendous nightmares ever.  I could still feel the frostiness of his hands
on my face. Chill ran through my spine and freezed my legs. How could you be so
cold and rigid towards someone you love? Do I still want him to love me? I thought
to myself. All of a sudden, I reached out my coat’s pocket and took out the
paper. I held it in my hands and slowly opened it. My hands shivering and my
eyes wide open. My lips trembled as I looked at it. The Latin Words were gone.


I got dressed and
left for school . Emily gave me the cold shoulder in the morning.  I was too much in shock to have a breakfast. I
was quite and panic stricken all the way to school. What if it became reality? What
if he really in love with me? And the Latin Words? What I am supposed to do
now? My mind was racing and it was unstoppable.it was me who invited evil into
my life. Now I have to bear the consequences.


 I assume Emily’s parents called mine and told
them about the book.  They told them how
terrified Emily was to see that. How full of evil images that book was. The
book disappeared from my room the following school day. Nobody said anything to
me about it. They didn’t even inquire where I got that book from.  I came into my room, expecting to read it,
and it was gone.  I knew where I left
it.  I searched the house and I couldn’t
find it.  I was too afraid of my possible
punishment to ask my folks about the book.    

As for my friend, I
was not invited back to her house.  She
stopped playing with me at recess. I was completely left alone. The spirit
pushing me to recruit her had deceived me. 
I didn’t gain love from this book. 
I lost my best friend. 












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