Somebody Touched m My Foot

Do you remember what it was like when you were a kid? All the fond memories of innocence and curiosities? The incidents and weird things happening that writes your story which shaped who you are? For me, my childhood was pretty bland. I was just like any normal kid, loved to play outside under the sun, and was even considered a tomboy. My family was pretty ordinary too, father worked a decent job, working for the government, and my mother was a housewife. I have an older brother, and two little brother, which made me the only daughter my parents had. A rose among thorns, people would describe me, referring to me being the only daughter among the filthy brothers I had.

I remembered briefly, that at the age of 12, I was at the peak of my rebellion. I don't think that I was a bad child, but I was constantly fighting with everyone around me. I was a little bit distance with my parents, siblings, and have very few friends. I was constantly angry and sensitive, which pushes people away. It was around 2002 and in those days emo rock music was the trend, with depressing bands booming like after rain mushrooms.

I could still remember my favourite bands which includes Sum41, My Chemical Romance, and Linkin Park, just to name a few. Their music's, which sounded so melodious then, now like a cringing shriek to my 30 year old ear. I was quite into the scene too, with my black outfit, shitty croppy hairstyles and thick black eyeliner which I drew around my eyes. People would comment that I looked similar to a panda or a sick insomniac person who hadn't slept for several days. To me, I looked pretty fly and cute (I can't help cringing myself).

Despite being a rebellious little shit, my education was pretty impressive. I was a bright student. However, because of the constant fighting with my parents and siblings, I became moody and depressed, and at that time, being a weird twelve year old, my aim was to escape from home. I wanted to be away from home, but running away was not my plan. I told you I was smart. I don't want to ruin my future just because I couldn't get along with my family. Instead I studied very hard to get away from home by applying myself into one of the prestigious boarding school in the country.

After having all straight A's, in my UPSR, I got accepted to the boarding school of my dream. UPSR is a Primary School Achievement Test, an exam for standard six middle schoolers to evaluate which school you will be accepted for the next level of your education, which is high school. It was a pretty big deal and I was very happy I scored all 5A's. Both my parents were all over the moon too and they bought me everything I wanted to prepare my journey for boarding school life.

I was very excited as well leaving, because I could get away, not only from my family, but from the house that we were living in. Yes, the house. I forgot to mention the haunted house that we were living at the time, which is the core of this story. We had lived there for almost 10 years, despite having weird things happening most of the time, throughout my childhood. The house, to me, is truly a living hell. But I always kept how I felt about it to myself, never told any of my family members. In fact, all of us kept our stories to ourselves.

I would return home once or twice a month, and I would tell you that being in boarding school does not change how angry and depressed I was at home. Whenever I was home, the quarrel with my family never did stop. Without any reasons at all, we would despise each other, spitting on each other's faces. Looking back, as I am writing this story, I realized that all the things that happens, the fighting, the hitting, the quarrelling, it was because by the house.

The things inside the house, living with us, made us constantly hated each other. The house felt hot too, like living inside an oven. We would sweat a lot, eventhough we were sitting in the living room, fan on full blast, watching the television and doing nothing. Sweats would just roll down your skin with no reasons.I heard stories that spirits could do that. You feel hot when they're near you, not cold like how the rumors told us. They can also make lovers hated each other and breaking families apart.

The house was a double story house with four bedrooms. It was quite a big house, compared to the monthly rent, which was pretty low. I don't know where my father found the house but we were happy and grateful for it. It was spacious and beautiful, however the house comes with some baggage that we learned to tolerate over the years. When night arrives, the house transforms into a completely different scene. It became very creepy.

One of my neighbour owns a pair of dogs, both German shepherd, both loud and active. Both were the kind of dogs that would bark at anything on sight. People, cats, birds, literally anything that passes by their house. Did I mention they were loud? These two dogs would howl and bark throughout the night, every night, continuously until sunrise. And throughout the night, you could also hear someone walking, dragging their sandals against the concrete floor.

The first few month when we were living there, we had a hard time sleeping. Occasionally we would peer outside our window to see if there's anyone outside, disturbing the dogs, but there was no one. As time went by, we kind of adjusted to it. In fact, if we did not hear the dogs barking, we would think something was wrong, either the dogs were dead or they were sick and were sent to the vet.

On some nights we could hear noises like something was walking on our attic. Sometimes they were the sound of loud thumping and sometimes it were just some soft scratches. We never thought anything of it, just assume that it was probably rats or cats scurrying around. Sure there were some incidents that bothered us, such as hearing dishes being washed and arranged loudly, the sound of clanging metal cutleries. When we decided to have a look at the kitchen, the sound would stop and, of course nobody was there.

There was also one occasion, we heard something-we assumed the laundry basket that we placed at the top of the stairs, just outside the bathroom, to collect dirty clothes- fell noisily down the stairs, but when we take a look, nothing was amiss, the laundry basket was still at its place. Last but not least, of course there was a constant feeling that something or someone was string at us.

However there's this one incident that happened to me that I could never forget. It still send chills through my spine. It was one time during the holidays, I went home for a couple of days. Like usual, I had a big fight with my parents, and although it was just half past eight in the evening, I decided to cry myself to sleep. I turned off the lights and slumped my face into my pillow and started crying heavily.

A few seconds later into crying, I heard a weeping sound. I thought it was just my imagination and paid no mind at it and continue my crying. The weeping continues, together with a weaving sound. The hair behind my neck stood straight. I sat upright and scan the room. It was dark. I forgot to mention that in my room, there's a bathroom that could no longer function. So the bathroom were used as a storage area instead. My mother puts a lot of junks in there.

When I scanned the room, the weeping stopped. A ruffling sound appeared and I could swear that it was coming from the unused bathroom. I concentrated my eyes through the opened bathroom door, and my face fell. I could see a white silhouette with black raggedy hair peeking from the bathroom door. I immediately pull myself under the cover and pretended to sleep.

A few moments passed by and I couldn't remember when I fell asleep. All I could remember was how I woke up. My head was under the cover, it was so hot and I was drenched with sweat. I felt something was touching and pinching my feet. That is how I woke up. I did not move for a while, but when I felt the second pinch, I threw myself up, kicking and punching, and ran downstairs, where the rest of my family was sitting in the living room watching TV.

I sat quietly beside my brother, still feeling the shock at what just happened. My mother was the first one who noticed my pale face. That's how mothers are. They noticed if something was wrong. I quickly hugged her, my heart beating fast. That was the first time I felt so scared in my life. My mother somehow knew what happened and assured me not to speak a word, to wait until the next day.

The next day, I spilled everything on what just happened. My mother's respond was "Serves you right for shouting at me".

-The End-