11:55
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
I sit in my armchair, staring at the wall. I want to look, but I'm not strong enough.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
I can't tell where the tapping comes from. It could come from anywhere.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
The tapping is getting closer, but I don't look. I drill a hole in the wall with my eyes.
The cursed grandfather clock finally, finally, let out the chime of midnight. The tapping ceased. I let out the breath I was holding. I get up from my chair to go to bed.
My parents moved to this house when my grandmother died. I was 5? Maybe 6? My mom inherited the house from her mother, I will inherit this house when she passes, and my daughter will inherit the house when I pass. Generations of my family, the first-born girls, have lived in this house. My grandmother had to be here and that meant my mother had to be here. I never got the luxury of getting to leave, even for a little while. My mother died when I was young and I hate her for it. I've never been free.
You probably think I'm crazy, don't you? Everyone I've ever thought I could trust thought so. Why don't I just leave? Set the house on fire? Destroy that grandfather clock and be done with it? It's not that simple. I have to be here. I have to. I've tried to leave. I tried to go to college. I tried going on trips. I tried not being here at 11:55 but…
I am not crazy. Believe me.
I. Am. Not. Crazy.
What I am going to tell you sounds like it could not, should not be true, but maybe you'll understand.
Every night at 11:55, the grandfather clock chimes and I open my eyes. I will sit in the ancient rocking chair facing the wall with that stupid, silent grandfather clock behind me. It doesn't matter where in the world I am, I will open my eyes and sit in the rocking chair in this house. I could be in a crowd of people at 11:54 and at 11:55, I won't be there. No one will remember me.
You would think that I could do whatever I want, right? I could rob a bank, teleport with pockets full of cash, and never face the consequences. You would think, but that's how my mother died. She appeared in the chair with the money stuffed down her throat because she thought that maybe, just maybe, this "power" we have was actually a gift. No. In fact, every time you aren't in the house to sit in the chair, you get punished. The punishments vary. My father vanished because my mother had the foolish idea of escaping to a different country. My mother told me that my grandmother had several other siblings that disappeared while my great grandmother tried to fight against whatever this is. My Grandmother was the only one left.
Are you seeing what I mean? I have to be here. And just like my mother and my grandmother, the house will provide a partner to me. One that is eerily perfect. One that is too accepting. One that doesn't feel... human, just so I have a daughter. It's disgusting. It devastated me when my father disappeared, but now I look at those eyes in the family photos and don't see a man. I see him for what he is. This damn house's sick and cruel way of keeping my family here.
But I've been trying to figure it out. This whole mess. Is it really the house? Considering that I don't get punished if I'm in a different part of the house when it is 11:55 leads me to believe so, but... What if it is the grandfather clock? The internal parts of the clock only work from 11:55 to midnight. Other than that, it is silent and the hands of the clock are perpetually at 11:54. I've tried destroying that clock. I've thrown it out. I've taken a hammer to it. I've tipped it over. It doesn't matter. At 11:55, it is behind me, telling me it's time to take part in this ritual.
What is it, what is it, what is it? I've quizzed my family about why this is happening. Why us? Why is our family tortured like this? Why the daughters? But no one will answer me. In fact, some pretend that it doesn't exist, as if my father just disappeared into thin air for no reason. My mother was one of these people before my grandmother died. Before she went crazy. She pretended that this never existed. She tried making me believe I was the crazy one, but I saw it. I saw my grandmother appear at 11:55 in that rocking chair. I knew then and I know now that she had magically appeared there. I didn't just not see her in that rocking chair. I didn't realize that she was unresponsive for five whole minutes as sweat and tears dripped down her face. Everything was real. Everything.
I'm rambling. I can't be doing that. I have to stay focused. Stay focused.
Anyway, I'm going to see it. Whatever makes the noises. I am going to force myself to look away from the wall and look. I don't know why it is trying to make me look away from the wall. It's not like I can tear my eyes away from this spot on the wall that's imprinted into my soul. My eyes burn anytime they waver in the slightest. Even the occasional blink sends white hot electricity down my spine. I hear tapping, scratching on the walls and the floor behind. Sometimes, something will run what feels like a finger down my arm just outside of my line of sight. Sometimes, the... whatever it is, whispers my name and I swear it is trying to tell me something, but it is speaking too low for me to hear. It doesn't matter. I am... compelled to just stare until my eyes water, blinking as quickly as I can so I feel as little pain as possible.
But I have to do this. I have to see what is doing this. If anything is doing this at all. Maybe, I will look and nothing will be there. Maybe I am crazy... Maybe all of this is in my head.
But it's not. I have proof. Tangible proof. This curse killed my friend. I... Killed my friend. I was driving her home and... It happened. I forgot the time. I didn't think. I didn't think. I didn't think. The grandfather clock chimed, and I was in the chair. But… she wasn't in the driver's seat. I read the report. No one was in the driver's seat when the ambulance arrived. The collision happened on the driver side so they chalked it up to her not wearing a seatbelt. But I know. I know. I was there. I was in the driver’s seat and then I was whisked away by that thing. It did this to her. Not me. She just wanted a ride home. She didn't deserve this.
But I am going to end this. The first step to solving a problem is knowing it, and I can't know it if I don't look. So I'm going to. Then, I will find someone to help me. Someone who will believe me. I will document my research. That's what this is, right? Research?
I will return. I will. I will tell you everything I find. I will.
