It was a cold December night. A young boy by the name of Michael Kenton is sitting in his room playing with his toy trains. Michael is eight years old with jet black hair and emerald eyes. His room is lit by a fire in the fireplace. Michael’s Uncle opened the door and told him “I’m locking the playroom for the night, is there anything you want out of it?” Michael shook his head and his Uncle closed the door. Michael had never been allowed in the playroom at night, he would hear weird noises when he went to use the bathroom, odd creaks and moans that just didn’t make sense in an empty room. Michael put away his trains and laid down for bed. The next morning Michael woke up with his uncle standing at the foot of his bed. He was a very tall man coming in at 6’2 with a large bald spot in the middle of his black and grey hair and green eyes the color of grass. He didn’t look very happy before he said “Michael, did you go into the playroom last night?” Michael looked at him confused, “No, I put my toys away and went to sleep Uncle.” Michael’s Uncle’s face went from angry to flushed in less than a second. “Uncle are you okay? You look funny.” He took a few minutes to respond but he looked up and said “Yes Michael…Just fine. Come on now, you’re going to be late for school.” Michael jumped up and started getting dressed he was excited about his first day at a new school. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but he knew better than to ask questions when it came to that room it was always off limits. Michael put on his uniform a red polo shirt with the school crest on it and khaki pants all freshly ironed by his uncle. Michael was only in third grade, but he had already been moved into the advanced classes at his last school. He grabbed his backpack and walked out the door anxious to get his day started. As he walked down the hallway he stopped at the playroom and looked through the open door. It looked like they had been robbed or at the very least vandalized, the toys were all over the floor and the bean bag chair Michael sat on when he read was in the opposite corner upside down. The entire doorframe was covered in scratch marks that weren’t there the night before. Michael felt a chill rush down his spine, and he hurried downstairs to the car. It was storming outside in Denver, Colorado and was pretty cold. The rain was pounding down so hard Michael’s uncle had to make a few stops on the way because he couldn’t see very well but they made it to Michael’s school, Saint Mary’s Academy. Once at the right stop Michael was quickly ushered inside by a woman in a raincoat. Michael walked to his classroom, room 532 with Sister Love and looked around. Michael’s family wasn’t very religious, but Saint Mary’s offered the best education around and that was important to his family. Michael sat down at his desk and began his regular day of adding and subtracting. It was almost noon and Sister Love said, “Alright boys and girls, let’s sit down for story time.” Everybody cheered and sat down in the circle. Michael didn’t have any friends in this class, so he wasn’t sure where to sit so he looked around. He decided on a spot by the edge of the circle next to three boys. Sister Love sat in her rocking chair and said “Today, instead of me telling a story, each of you are going to tell a story.”
The class looked at each other and smiled. “Also, we have a new student joining us today, Let’s start with him! Everybody say hi to Michael!” “Took you long enough” Michael whispered. Michael didn’t really know what to tell everybody, not very much had happened but then he remembered…The playroom! Michael walked up in front of the class and looked around nervously. He smiled and began to tell his story about the noises and rules of his playroom. As he finished, Sister Love was looking at him horrified, as were the rest of the children. Michael realized he had scared them and maybe said too much so he thought quickly and said, “I’m joking, I just wasn’t sure what to say, I saw that in a movie.” he waited for the tension to break. Then the children slowly broke into giggles and Michael returned to his spot feeling accomplished. As the rest of the day went by nothing else interesting happened. Michael walked out of the school when the bell rang and waited on his Uncle to pick him up. Once he was in the back seat with his seatbelt on his uncle turned around and said “ I put new locks on the playroom and I don’t want you in there at all for a while.” Michael nodded his head and turned his attention to the window as they headed home. It was still pouring rain as they pulled into the driveway, so Michael’s uncle put his jacket over him for cover as they ran inside. Michael spent the day in his room watching the rain and reading a book. He had decided that he needed to see inside the playroom at night. He had read about taping locks so they couldn’t shut all the way and could be opened. So, he snuck downstairs and found the scotch tape in the kitchen drawer, he creeped back upstairs, carefully adjusted the tape on the locks and went to his room. He pretended to be asleep when his uncle said goodnight and before his uncle even closed his door, Michael’s feet hit the floor walking across his room. He slowly opened his door and creeped into the hallway. Every creak seemed as loud as a hammer hitting a nail. He walked up to the playroom door and opened it slowly. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, a white figure that looked like a person but not as well. The figure smiled at him. “We’ve been waiting on you Michael.” the voice sent chills down his spine. It was cold, it froze the air in front of him. The figure waved his finger and somehow pulled Michael forward, He waved it again and slammed the door shut. “We knew your curiosity would get the best of you.” Michael looked up into this thing’s eyes, they were nothing more than black holes, and realized, he wasn’t scared he was angry. “Who is we?” The figure smiled again. “We are the spirits that haunt this house… we’ve been waiting for someone that we could possess.” as he finished speaking two more figures appeared, they were just as eerie. The three enclosed him and Michael realized suddenly…he couldn’t move. His arms and legs wouldn’t listen and as the ghosts began to chant he heard a noise. A very loud slamming noise and Michael realized it was someone banging on the other side of the door. Then he heard his uncle’s voice from behind it shouting in another language. When his uncle stopped shouting the ghosts followed suit and stopped chanting. One of the ghosts said “He devotes his life to keeping us locked in here but speaks our language” then the original ghost responded in the same dialect. The third said “Are you sure? He could be equipped for war.” “…Aye, I’ve made sure he can’t harm us” and he waved his finger to open the door. Michael’s uncle entered wearing his robe and wielding a book and rod. He looked the boy in the eyes “I love you Michael, I’m sorry this happened I should have prepared you” and Michael was flung from the room. As he flew out the door slammed shut behind him. Michael hit the wall and fell unconscious until the morning when he was awoken by EMT’s. “Son? Son are you with us?” Michael took a while to respond but when he did, he realized where he was “Where’s my uncle? Is he okay?” The EMT looked at him confused and concerned. “Son you’re the only soul here” Michael looked across the hall at the playroom which had been blocked off by crime scene tape, the door was shut. “What’s in there?” The EMT followed his gaze “I’m not sure you’d have to ask the officers son” The EMT wrapped a blanket around him and carried him down to the ambulance away from the room and maybe his uncle. Michael watched the house until it faded out of sight feeling helpless. He never saw his Uncle again and with that being the last of his family he was put with other people to continue his raising. He often thought about that night and that house wondering what happened to his uncle and where he was. Michael is twenty seven now and can barely remember the incident, but he can sometimes still see that figure that took his uncle from him and he can always hear the language of the dead in his dreams…