"The Visitors"
(Based on a true story... Truly)

"My first 'Visit' was when I was four years old. I was in the living room, playing with my Lego, like I usually did. My parents, and older brother Geoff weren't home, and my eldest brother, Jonathan was asleep in his room. I heard a light tapping at the window. I looked up to see a completely white man (his whole body, even his 'Mr. Magoo' hat was even white) staring at me, and suddenly walked past. Now, where the livingroom was, it was off the ground, so the man was floating! This scared me a lot, and I screamed for my brother. Running up the stairs, thinking that I hurt myself, he was all panicky. I told him what happened, and he didn't believe me, he just yelled at me and went back to his bed room..."



__________________________________Present Day_______________________________


It was pitch black. No sound. No sight. No touch. No taste. No smell. Just black. He felt safe, secure, as if he was being held in his mother's arms as a child. The warm feeling that surrounded him made his heart glow.
Too bad he had to awake from his peaceful slumber, groggily glancing at the digital clock on his night table. Digital, because it was the only type of clock he could read. It read 5:59 am. Flick. Now 6:00 am.
He often wondered what it would be like to do all those insignificant things: Riding a bike, reading 24 hour clocks, tying his shoes; they were all pointless little jobs in his life that meant nothing to him, though he wondered if they would make life easier.
He grumbled, getting up, and stretched. Looking around the lit room, thanks to his table lamp he made his way to the door, opened it as quietly as he could and slipped out. It was a perfect get-a-way from his tiny haven. No meat on his bones, none at all. People would think that he was a starving lad, his ribs showing, the same with his pelvic bones. But in reality, he was rarely ever hungry. He was like a dog; he would only eat if food was in front of him.
Tip-toeing down the stairs, little creaks were heard. No wonder. The home he, his parents, dog and cat resided in was a thirty year-old shack that was poorly constructed when they bought it. His father said that he wanted something to do in his retirement, so this is the home they got. A small home in a small hamlet; Gilford, which was a small corner of a large area called Innisfil, Ontario.
Our mysterious lad was 15 years-old, and, as quote of his older brother, was "an adult trapped inside a child's body". He was that mature. So mature he had even voted for the Federal Government a few times instead his parents.
Turning on the computer, he gazed around, seeming a little nervous, feeling as if he was being watched. He knew by exactly who...or what, too. You see, Tim, Yes, his name is Tim. I apologize for not mentioning this earlier, but well... Never mind.
Anyway, Tim wasn't like any ordinary teenage teenager (Yes, you read that right.). He was mature for his age, as I have already told you, he also was a hard-core computer nerd and writer. But that's not all. Tim's senses were sharper than usual, and he had two extra senses.
Yes, seven senses. The sixth? He could see spirits of the dead, and people using the astral plane. Tho it wasn't as strong as it should have been, he was glad. Although seeing half bodied spirits and outlines of ghosts scared him witless. The seventh? Well that took place in his mind. He was psychic. Not the kind of psychic as you'd think. He was more psychic with emotions than anything else.
Tim grumbled, no one online on the Instant Messenger that he used. He yawns, leaning his head back against the chair and closed his eyes, remembering a time when he was nine years old.
He was roller-blading in the garage, all alone, when suddenly he felt something weird around him. Suddenly, Tim felt something grab his leg, but when he turned around, nothing was there. He was so scared he dashed out of the garage and up to the house, his roller-blades still on.
"Eh-Oh!" dinged the Instant Messenger. Tim slowly opened his eyes, and peered at the computer screen. His close friend from Australia, Vee had contacted him.
he typed, yawning. Vee didn't answer for a little while.
You see, Vee was somewhat the same as Tim in the Spirit World; She would visited by spirits, but they were always full-bodied, and usually had something to say, and were usually spirits of her dead family and friends. Tim had asked vee how she could stand it with the random screaming and footsteps, etc, ad she just said that she's gotten so used to it doesn't bother her anymore.
Tim sniffed, looking around the dark room, sensing that spirits were gathering around him. "Dammit..." he muttered. The spirits started to surround him, the mental pressure slowly getting to him.
"For God's sake!" Tim told whatever was in the air. "Leave me alone! I did nothing to you!" The spirits didn't listen, they just stood there, watching him, some drawing closer. Tim yelped to Vee. The spirits were overwhelming. They were so strong that Tim started to cry for no reason, almost screaming "Go away! Go away!!!"
Tim woke up sometime around noon, and rubbed his eyes. He usually did this in the summer and weekends; Taking naps if he really needed to.
He looked up at the stucco ceiling, remembering the events of that morning and yawned, shivering slightly.
He noticed something queer just then. There was a small face in the stucco. Tim squinted, and tried to examine the face. It just stared at him. The face disappeared! Tim searched the ceiling frantically for it, and stopped when it reappeared. Tim squinted again, confused.
The face suddenly turned to him, grinning and disappeared, and suddenly all these spirits flew at him, their mouths open wide, as if trying to eat him. "Aaahh!!" Tim yelped and hid under the covers.

* * *

The time was about 8:00 pm, and Tim was in front of the computer as usual. His dad was watching TV, and his mom in the next room. Tim sighed, leaning back into his chair.
"Hey, Tim!" His dad called to him. Tim turned his head a little to his dad, an not so interested look on his face. "Did you know that Celine Dion went to sing somewhere, and she one a-" "A million dollars?" Tim interrupted, yawning. "Yea... How did you know?" Tim's dad asked, a little bewildered. Tim shrugged. "'Dunno... I just knew." He sais honestly and turned back to the computer screen.
Tim typed to one of Tim's best online friends, Heather.
Heather was a Wiccan. Tim had told her about his situation, and gave him a useful spell to ward off spirits by hanging a mirror on the wall in his room opposite of his door. He did that, but when he took down the mirror, well, guess what?
Heather sighed, not knowing what else to do. Heather had been Visited once before, by a spirit named Allen. He was an angry spirit, she had said. Every time he was angry he'd give her nightmares. But one night, she woke up and Allen was sitting on the end of her bed, and they just talked.
Tim wondered if Allen was one of the original spirits that lived him his home, I mean how do you explain the moaning coming from his bedroom, crashing and coughing sounds from upstairs when home alone? And don't forget the doppelganger in the mirror, which just keeps coming in clearer and clearer!
Tim sighed, and said goodbye to his friend when she had to go, so he just signed off as well. Tim closed his eyes before getting up, hearing his mom cussing from the next room when she would screw up on whatever she was doing.

* * *

It was 4:30 pm the next day, and the spirits were bugging him constantly, not letting up. Tim pleaded to his friend Jacob. Jacob asked.
Jacob replied a little later with a No reply. Tin waited a little, remembering past Visits, like that one time when two spirits thought it would be funny to spin his bed around and make him dizzy. Jacob finally replied.
Tim slowly looked over at his left shoulder, and saw a faint out-line of a hand there. "Gehh...what the...?" Tim slowly looked up, behind him, and saw an outline of a thin, male figure. Jacob replied. "Oh...my...God..." Tim said in a hushed whisper, amazed.
The figure stepped closer, and moved to Tim's left, staring down at him. Jacob explained. The spirit out-line faded away. I sent the spirits away for now. Everything's okay. Tim smiled. Tim laughed. Jacob laughed too. Tim replied. Jacob replied, and Tim sighed off.
Tim watched out the window, the next Monday afternoon, coming home from school. The bus screeched to a halt as a couple kids got off for their house. Tim packed up his bags, since his stop was next. A few minutes went by, and the bus went to a slowing, but screeching halt. Tim got up, slinging his bag over his shoulder, and walked off the bus.
Tim just stared up at the house, that seemed to sink into the terra. He didn't notice the bus rolling away. He just stared at his home from the end of the drive way. Thinking. Knowing. Knowing that this was the first house ever that he's lived in that he's been frightened to enter...
Tim slowly made his way up the driveway, opened the door, entered and closed the door. Click. The door was locked now, and Tim was in the belly of the Hell that he had been so scared of... Not knowing what was to happen next...





End.