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I got a text from a blocked number titled “A gift from my neighbor.” It appears to be excerpts from a religious woman’s diary. I thought this site would be the best place to post it. I found the photo online, and it sort of matched the woman's description. These ghost amulet "dolls" come from Thailand, and are the result of taking the ashes and oils of a dead infant or fetus. I won't go into specifics, but you can visit the site posted under my Sources.

Entry 23

Today after church during fellowship a conversation with Adam my neighbor escalated into a strange conversation about ghosts. I told him to bring it up to the preacher, as I wasn't familiar or interested with the "paranormal". I did notice he had slurred speech and dark circles under his eyes, apparently from many restless nights. That's when he snapped at me, "I thought that I could at least trust my own f'***ing neighbor. You're such a f'***ing hypocrite, what did our Lord say?! Oh yeah! Love thy neighbor! That means you at least hear a guy out!" It was about that time that Deacon Peter and Pastor Michael ushered him and myself from the banquet hall, telling us that talk of ghosts was “disturbing the flock”. Needless to say I was startled by this outburst, and offended that my own pastor would assume I had instigated such a blasphemous conversation.

Entry 24

Adam I suppose has not forgotten about yesterday... he was staring at my house for two hours from his window last night and tonight as well. I suppose that I should ask him what’s on his mind someday.

Entry 25

Something extremely strange happened today... so strange in fact that I feel the need to recount most of what has transpired for future reference. I came home from work and found an odd and admittedly freaky looking doll thing on my doorstep. Upon picking it up I noticed it was greasy and had a pungent odor of burnt hair about it… what appeared to be human hair was protruding from what looked like its head. My first impression was that it was a voodoo doll, as I picked it up I sensed someone or something watching me. As I looked around I caught a glimpse of the curtain in the window of my neighbor's house moving, the same window he was staring out every night since our quarrel at the church. As a Christian I’m not concerned with the paranormal, I know that Jesus is on my side, and that’s all the paranormal I need in my life. I couldn't let this man disrupt the peace of my home with his intruding gaze and these newly developing mystical shenanigans. I took the doll to his house and rang the doorbell. After waiting what seemed like forever, he answered with a cold smile .

"Well howdy neighbor, I see you got my message!" he said boisterously. I was curious: "And just what message is that?" He had a blank look on his sunken face. "If God loves me so much, why won't he answer my prayers?” I responded with disdain, why was evading the main issue at hand? I responded with: "What prayers will the Lord not provide for with an answer or sign?" His false grin disappeared "That's just the thing... I have too many answers... come on inside while I explain." I was cautious at first, noting how unkempt his house seemed, and how disgusting the interior of his house must be. After I crossed the threshold and my eyes adjusted to the darker ambiance I noticed a sparsely decorated and extremely clean living room with a leather reclining chair by a psychologist's hypnosis sofa. The only other furnishing I noticed was a display case filled with what I assumed was memorabilia from his service days. I paused in front of the display and noticed that among the medals and pictures there was an empty box. I leaned in to inspect it and upon closer inspection I noticed a shipping label with his address as the return and delivery address. He had a seat in the leather recliner, leaving me in the hypnosis subject's sofa (I sat upright so as not to be susceptible to anything suspicious). "I saw you noticed my display case." he said. "Yes, I didn't know you were so decorated." He smiled and said "All that four tours of 'Nam did for me was add weight to my chest, darling."

I was wondering why he had been staring at my home, and presented my issue delicately "I noticed you staring at my home from your window last night... is there something that interests you?" He wasn't affected by my question in the least. "Nothing interesting, just the same night every night..." I couldn't help but ignore his blatant indifference to my concerns, but out of politeness I changed the topic. I then asked him what he meant by saying he had "too many answers". He was obviously brewing something behind his baggy listless eyes. "What I meant is that when I pray for all the answers... the answers to all I've done, all the bulls*** judgments... to just leave me alone, they never do. I... I am sick of them tearing away at me, and there’s not much left to tear at. The only thing that keeps me going is that the fate I face if I just end it is WAY worse than sleep deprivation. I thought maybe you might be someone that could help a neighbor out, like a good Christian?"

“How can I help?” I asked, wondering how I might help a depressed veteran struggling with suicidal thoughts. “You’re serious?” he asked with a look of bewilderment. “Yeah, just tell me what I can do to help you sleep at night. And please remember that suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem, and therefore a sin.” I was admittedly skeptical about how effective any help I could give would be to someone with a mental disorder. “Well alright Sister... you know that doll you found on your doorstep?” “Yeah-“, “Well if you could take it off my hands, I might actually get some shut-eye and not spend my every waking second contemplating giving up on everything.”

“Anything dear!” I wondered how taking this freaky thing could possibly help him get some sleep, but I'm sure it's a small price to pay for a contented life. I agreed to take the thing off his hands and I saw a sudden glimmer of life in his eyes. He hastily fished a pen out of his pocket and wrote something on the box, my address. He handed the box to me, ushered me out of his house, and slammed the door.

I had not noticed how late it had become while I was talking with him, three hours passed by in what seemed like thirty minutes. As I walked home I noticed the box in which I put the doll began to get ice cold, every step I took was arduous and every breath was exhausting. Sensing something was wrong I decided to knock on Adam’s door to ask more about the box. I struggled to knock on the door, and as I was about to yell for him I heard a muffled gunshot sound come from inside.

I opened the door as quick as I could. The once clean interior was a mess of dust, the floorboards rickety, there was no furniture, and on one of the floor, ceiling and one of the walls was a brownish red stain, no one had inhabited this home in years. Startled, I resisted the overwhelming urge to run and investigate. As I was scanning the room I stepped through a floorboard. I struggled to pull myself out, but as pulled my leg from the crevice I saw a glimmer of something metallic under the floorboard. I picked out of the dark what appeared to be military dog tags, and on one of the plates I read the name Adam Rhomberg. I don’t know if I was guided by God or my neighbor's ghost, but everything slowed down as I quickly processed what had transpired. I had begun to second-guess everything I had been taught by the church.

I crawled from the hole abandoning the box and struggled to get home. I feel like what happened was possibly a miracle, and I may have been sent by God to set a weary soul free. When I got to my doorstep I noticed something that froze the blood in my veins… the box I thought I had abandoned at my neighbor's was sitting on my stoop. I am a good Christian woman, and whatever this madness is that I have been subjected to I surely didn’t deserve! The agents of Satan must be put to an end! I must cleanse this doll of its evil! After rubbing blessed oil on the doll and box I will sleep easily knowing I have thwarted Satan.

Entry 26

I am stuck here in bed, the very image of sloth. The whispering and scratching kept me up all night. Tubman can’t get in! I can only hear him scratching, scratching at the windows and the door… meowing incessantly! All attempts to reach out to my preacher and neighbors are silenced. There’s no phone service at my home, instead of a dial tone I hear blood-curdling screams and maniacal laughter. What was once my home has become my prison, and I suspect this Satanic little doll is the warden holding me.  I am sure the Lord will embrace me and put this all to an end. This frail human body will die of thirst before my spirit is broken!

Entry 27

Why won’t it leave my bedside?

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