The Secret Journal- A mysterious story

The Echoes of Elysium House

Maya Thorne was looking at the bland wall of Elysium House, solemn but majestic mansion standing in the outskirts shadowed by old trees. This old estate which was passed down from a great-uncle whom was rarely mentioned was as much a bane as it was an obligation. When she entered the room and touched the wooden oak door she had the feeling that the whole house was breathing and even the whispers of past times were heard in her ears. Little did she know that the house which was filled with echoes was waiting for her to create more of them. 

 The first week was calm and any incident throughout the week was only entertaining things concerning the sorting out of her late relative’s items. The room was overlaid with the smell of old wood, and there was something else that Jalia immediately picked as a putrid one, something she could not exactly put her finger on. A curious idea came suddenly to her as she was searching through a pile of old books covered with dust one day she found the journal. Wrapped in black leather and having a very unseen clasp on it, it appeared to be alive and telling secrets to her. 

 She quickly sat on the wooden floor that had a few thick cracks in it and began to flip open the journal. The writing was rushed and heavy with ink marks of where the individual had been trying to come up with what to write. The entries spoke of bizarre happenings: shadows that flickered on walls and were alive in the corners, low voices that called my name in vacuum of a corridor, and a vague figure that was glancing back from the window. The last among them made her shiver as if being warned not to spend too much time within Elysium House. Looking at the message written at the front it said ; ‘It feeds on your fear’ and at the back: ‘soon you may not recognize yourself’. 

Doubt fought with interest in her as she continued to read. It wrote about her family who used to wander in those palaces, beings that were somewhat spectral and somewhat ominous. In the margins of several pages, hurried scrawls hinted at something sinister: practices, apparitions, and the most terrifying of all – an object which nobody would even dare to comment about. The nightly activities started soon after that — sly at first. Some doors she heard opened with a sigh during the night when they should have been closed and silent, a vague shape that was alive in the corner of her vision. 

 Maya tried to explain all those things away as the noises which the house makes, the wood changing, etc. However, when night approached, something changed, and dread crept in unknown eyes narrowed, watching from the darkness. It was dark when she was reading the journal in her room with only the candle to provide light; thinking when a loud knock caused her to jump. Every time Elizabeth brushed her hair she got the impression of a chill at the nape of her neck as though the very house were an entity that was whispering the history it held. 

 A week later the disturbances increased in vigor. She continued to have horrid dreams—a figures entering a bedroom, distorting its face and motioning at her to approach. She woke up soaked in the perspiration bat her heart pounding as she decided that she would come face to face with whatever it was that was haunting Elysium House. The following day she focused on the journal in a bid to know more about the mysterious creature. 

 One of them was: “I had to leave. ” “And once it decides you’re worth it, there is no backing out. ” Anxiety set in now knowing the fears she had established over her were accepted by it. Each time she sighed, each time she lost a grip on her thoughts she sensed the oppressive presence looming, patiently, searching for vulnerability. 

But the day arrived she failed to ignore the signals anymore. Sitting by the stove she herself documented her own feelings in an answer to journal’s entries. Nonetheless, however, when she came back she’d once again recognize the words slowly and laboriously scribbled the previous night as not her own. Letters had become shifted, words had started to twist themselves around in odd patterns with great merry-making in her head. It wrote to him, "You are not alone here, we are family now. ” The words were sour and scratched into the flesh. 

 Shіt! Maya stood paralyze as reality dawned on her. The events that she had witnessed were not delusions or product of her disturbed mind but the real essence of the house: living and always greedily waiting. A tense feeling Of fear quickly enveloped her. The very journal which she was writing in contributing to her being the part of ancestors’ suffering and becoming the victim of this journal. 

 It is thus the night of fear when she proceeds to start her ritual by herself. Blessed with wisdom and velour, she moved through the corridors of Elysium House where darkness breathed and the shadows ravenously reached for her determination. This time there was heated aggression in her words: “I refuse you!” 

 But five minutes later it was as if the very walls itself alternated with laughter. She watched the smoke rising from the sage as she noticed another person grabbing her arm with a cold and sweaty hand. The journal fell from her hands and lay on the floor, spine opened and pages flying as if possessed by the same kind of wind as her fear, new drawings left from the generous of her ancestors’ faces, distorted in terror and pain. 

“Listen to me,” she said as loud as she found courage within her ‘I am not your heir!’ Time froze. The house breathed in, or more correctly exhaled, a deep breath. 

 There was only silence, and gradually the shadows drew back, beaten by an unknown enemy, and for the first time in my life I saw her standing alone, fighting for breath, shaking uncontrollably. However, when she turned onto the journal, it was completely blank. The writing that had previously threatened and written doom had faded away and what remained was the steady beat of her pulse. 

 Maya fell to her knees, she started crying bitterly. Was it all in her mind her mind? A test of her sanity or something like that, it was just the kind of case that could annoy her. The large mansion was completely silent when she trailed off, but a feeling in her breast told her she had gotten away—for now. She would not be a prisoner of the large house. They shall rebuild Elysium House from scratch, yes, but she has no energy left for such things, she only remained determined and weary, she packed her things, she would not stay here one moment longer. 

 As she wheeled around to leave, voices that had faded into the eeriness of the hall whispered once more, ”Run while you can. Remember, we are with you omnipresent. ” 

 And with that, she stepped outside, the house disappeared from her vision but lingered at the back of her mind, as a ever present monster that never fully lets go of something or someone once they’ve claimed it. Accepting such a legacy she learnt simply did not entail inheriting a home it also entailed living up to a gloom that fell as heavily as shades on her.