Graceful Assassin

I’m bored and have nothing better to do. So I’ma talk about my paranormal experiences.

#1: The ghost that tried to kill me (The Axe Man)

When I was younger me and my mom lived in a 3 story town house. The first floor was a entryway of sorts that led to a large kitchen and next to it on the right of it was a door to the backyard and to the right of it was a small bathroom and the laundry room. Up the flight of stairs was the main living room with a balcony and a brick fireplace and a large utility closet full of brooms and vacuums and coats and boxes and crap. Up th other set of stairs was the master bedroom (my mom’s), the main full bathroom, and lastly my room complete with walk in closet and bay-window. I was scared of my room, via another ghost, but I not talking about that one. It was more of a watcher than anything else. The Axe Man is the star of this one. I call him the Axe Man because, well, he carried a large ax with him. 

He was a large man, could never really see his face, with a large build. I always though he had black or dark brown hair, but whatever. He wore a white wife-beater and light washed jeans and black military-esq boots.

Anyway, I slept in my mom’s room most of the time, if not all of the time, because she worked the graveyard shift (har har) at Kaiser as a Histo-Tech. My babysitter at the time would be sleeping in the living room and every Thursday night, I would have the same dream. It was that man walking up the walkway, opening the front door, walking up all the stairs til he got to my mom’s room, where I was. He’d always disappear in the doorway, so I never really thought anything of it until one time I woke up and he was still there, only to fade into the darkness of the hallway. This continued, with him progressing further and further into the bedroom each Thursday night.

One Thursday night however, a earthquake hit. It was minor and just shook the house a little bit. I woke up with a start and saw that despite the earthquake, he was still coming. All of a sudden tho, I heard something break. It was a porcelain doll that had been in my family for a long time. I looked over and watched it smash against the floor and then looked up to the doorway. The Axe Man that I have grown to fear dissipated into what looked like sand. I never saw him again.

I believe, for whatever reason, he was attached to that doll. We still have it, here in our new house. We have a new doll now, also made of porcelain. She doesn’t have anything attached to her.

She moves on her own. I call her Elinore.