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Silence

I was always a quiet child.

I never liked interacting with the other children so I always sat in a dark space. The children laughed at me but I didn't care, I just kept reading (which is my favourite passtime). I kept hidden in the shadows through elementry, highschool, collage, until I got a masters degree in journalisim. Now I am working for a new boss in a new area pretty far away so I ended up selling my apartment and moved in a new house. I was never curious of the history behind the house, what occured in it, what secrets it held, I honestly was happy that it had a roof and heating installed. As I finished unboxing on the first day, I went up to the attic (which was so large I decided it would  serve as my bedroom) and look throuh some of the things left behind by the prvious owner, a man who died in his late 80s, mostly just dusty old books. Flipping through some of them, I came across one that was incredibly strange that stood out among the rest. The outside was made of old leather with the word "Silence" written on it, but inside there were just empty pages, lines with no words on them except for the back of the book which had two words written in the middle.

Wolę ciszę

Being partially drunk I read it out aloud, and passed out on the bed not knowing what had just happened.


For the past couple of days after that nothing had really changed. This one new girl in the office who came in a day after me is being really nice to me and flirting but I could care less. This all changed one night when I was alone in my attic reading a book and I heard a creek in the floorboards and when I turned  my heart lept in fright. A man in a completly black robe and dress shoes stood silently in the middle of the room. There wasn't a sign of hair, as I could not see any part of his head or body, just the black shoes adn a white mask with black hollow eye sockets and a lock over where the mouth should be.

"Who are you" I asked scared to death."How did you get in my house"

as I said that he vanished before my eyes.

After a period of two years the thing came back several times during the night so I wrote about it.


       Last night it visited me for the 33rd time in counting. At first whenever I tried to talk to it it would disapear when I spoke and leave for that night. Perhaps he or she or it only stays when there's silence I thought. I tested that theory and I was right! The first time I didn't talk to it I just stayed in my beed and read when it appeared and to my suprise, it pulled out a book of it's ow written out in another language (it wears black goves, still no sign of other clothes), grabbed a nearby chair and read along beside me. We didn't say anything the entire night and when I woke up in the morning, it was gone. We've done this for many nights and sometimes, we just stare out the attic window into the  pitch black darkness of the night. For some strange reason I've had fun. I enjoy it's company. I'm wondering how long this will go on now as I really don't want it too go. The strange thing is that whenever the creature is nearby it seems to be almost sapping my energy. Another thing i've noticed is that I've started to try to open up to people more, why am I suddenly changing. I've looked all this up on the internet and what I found was horrifying, one video shows the cloaked figure doing arious actions which kill other, choking, stabbing, and most commonly snapping necks. It seems that out of all the people, me and possibly others from the past, have befriended it. (end of journal entry)

 He died 66 years after he opened the book and spoke those words.

He got married, had kids, and moved up suffienciently in the ecomany, so in other words, he died happy.

Many friends, co-workers, and family members came to his funeral because of what a great person he was since people said he opened up more to them. It was very foggy that cold winters day. One of the mourners (the deseasesd's younger son,age 25) noticed one particular man at the funeral. He wore a black cloak that enveloped him with black dress shoes as he always did, and his face was covered by a strange mask. The young man went over to him after the burial and asked how he knew his father; but got no response. The man backed up suddenly, as the cloaked figure started to cry bloody tears from empty black sockets. It got up, walked away and as it looked back

It spoke the only sentence it ever will  Nigdy nie lubiłem załzawione pożegnania, ale żegnaj przyjacielu.

And walked away into the fog and disappeared as if it was never there.

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