By: Greta Vagedes
I know there’s someone there. Forever and always watching me. Forever and always.
My name is Blissa Marie Callicur. Bliss means “perfect joy”. I always thought that was funny. I guess for a time my life could’ve been considered “perfect”, but those days are long gone. It all happened 3 years ago today. I was sitting in Science, my last period of the day. My friend, Scout, was leaning over to ask me about the homework.
“Hey Bliss,” she whispered, “I wasn’t paying attention, what was our homework?” I sighed.
“We don’t have any homework,” I whispered back.
“Oh,” she said. “That’s surprising.” I was nodding when the bell for bus riders rang. Scout grabbed her Chromebook and practically skipped to the door.
“It’s finally the weekend!” She called over her shoulder, “See you on Monday Bliss.”
“Bye” I yelled after her. Only three non-bus riders were left in the classroom, not including me. Two were playing games on their Chromebooks. One had gotten up to examine the fish tanks in the back of the room. The teacher had started typing on her computer. I sat in my chair waiting for the second bell to ring. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something—a person wearing all black. I looked around the classroom once again. Everything was as it should be. So who was behind me? I tried to look at the person but they always seemed to be at the corner of my vision, no matter where I turned. Trying to focus on the figure was impossible, though, I’m not sure why. All I knew was that whatever it was, was a person.
Was something haunting me? I wasn’t sure. I’d never believed in ghosts or specters. I tried to come up with a logical explanation for the figure but it never came to me. After what seemed like an eternity the second bell rang. I almost ran out of the classroom, eager to get away from the strange person. I soon realized that getting out of the classroom wasn’t the answer to my problems. Everywhere I went the figure followed at the corner of my vision. I could hear its footsteps and feel its breath on my back.
As soon as I got home I rushed to the mirror. I don’t know what I was expecting to see. The figure was standing in the corner of the mirror. I could tell now that they had long, greasy, black hair covering their face. They were wearing a torn, black dress. The figure seemed to be female though I wasn’t sure. It stood there, breathing, and I had a feeling it was watching me.
I’m not one to be frightened by things I can’t explain. I can usually keep in even head in stressful situations. This time was different. For the rest of the evening, I paced my bedroom trying to find a place where the figure wasn’t behind me. I didn’t find it. Finally, dark came and my eyes slowly started to droop. I changed into my pajamas, turned off the light, and crawled into bed. Once I wake up in the morning, it’ll be gone. I thought to myself. I was finally starting to fall asleep when I felt the mattress sink beside me. There was a slight creak and I was suddenly wide awake. I didn’t dare breathe. The figure was a person alright, and they were lying in my bed! I could feel their breath on my neck. Greasy tips of hair tickled my back. I wanted to scream and run but I couldn’t move. I was paralyzed by fear. I didn’t know what to do. Frozen, horrified, and barely breathing I waited in my bed for the morning that seemed to never come.
I didn’t sleep that night. When sunlight finally crept through my bedroom window I was able to breathe again. I waited another hour before finally slipping out of bed, slowly and carefully. I didn’t want to wake the strange ghost. I decided in my many hours of wakefulness it was in fact a ghost, coming to haunt me for some unknown reason. I wondered if it would continue to follow me forever. I quickly shut down that thought. I didn’t think I could ever endure a night like that again.
I looked back at the bed, expecting to see the figure that had haunted me all night, but it wasn’t there. Moments later, the ghost reappeared in the corner of my vision. I was barely able to endure the rest of the day. My friends kept commenting about my far-off looks and lack of attention span but I didn’t care. I was constantly having panic attacks and extreme anxiety. Finally, one of my teachers sent me to guidance. I tried to explain the ghost but no matter how I phrased it, the story sounded silly.
Apparently, my story was able to convince the guidance counselor of my condition. 2 days later I was diagnosed with schizophrenia, a chronic brain disorder that impacts less than 1% of the U.S. population. I can’t control my hallucinations and the only treatment I have is therapy and medications. That day I realized “scary stories” don’t have to be made up. They can be real life. There is probably someone in your life right now experiencing a real-life horror story. 3 years later, my ghost is a part of me now. I barely notice their breath on my back or the weight on the other side of my bed. In fact, the only time I ever notice them is when I hear words echoing in my mind, forever and always. Forever and always.