The Story of Mallory Ann James

I just moved into a mansion and i found a diary. It belonged to a little girl, probably the girl who had my room last but when we bought the place we were told that no ones lived here since 1964...


1. the diary

I just moved in to this house, something about it makes me, feel like im being watched. Im here with my two brothers and my mom and dad. We all have our own room. I got the little girls room, it had a weird pink pattern on the walls. It was the twice of the size of my last room. It had two window, one on the north and one on east side. the room wasn't a squared room, it was more octagon shaped. I walked to one of the windows, I push aside the curtains and saw a doll..being hung.? There was something written on her head...I think it said Mallory but Im not for sure. The doll had long brown curly hair and blue eyes. The rope that was around her neck led up into the wooden panel. I pulled on the rope and the panel fell down but the panel wasn't the only thing that fell, a book, key and a small box fell with it. They were all dusty, like they haven't been touched in ten years. I first picked up the book and blew off some of the dust and saw something engraved on the dark brown leather cover, it said,"To my beloved Mallory, from Harold"...I wonder who Mallory and Harold are...I opened up to the first page. It was written in a neat handwriting.

2:07 P.M.,March 3rd, 1963

I don't get the point of me writing my thoughts down in this dreadful book. It's not as if anyone else is going to read it. I told my "father" I didn't want it but he insisted. My mother said he was a good person but if he was a good person why would he hurt us. I always hated him, ever since she met him. He tries to be nice to me in front of my mom and calls me Mal but we all know that's not really him. The real him is the opposite, he made my mom cry and he gave her bruises and made her bleed...He was never my actual father, my actual father died a couple years ago when I was 9 and ever since Harolds been in the picture. As if he took my dads spot, as if my mom never loved my dad. 

One day I will have my revenge on Harold, I'll do what ever it takes.

9:43 P.M.,March 3rd, 1963

He hit her again, she was crying, I tried to stop him but that only got me hurt. My little brother watched the whole thing, he's only 6. I told him to go to his room but he just froze. He just stood there until Harold apologized to my mom and went down stairs. I kept telling her we need to leave here and go far away but she said never to say that because he might hear. My little brother slept in my room tonight because he was too scared to sleep by himself and he didnt want to sleep with my mom and Harold.

I was about to read the next day until someone knocked on my door and I quickly closed the curtains and shoved the doll, book, key and the small box inside a big chest not seeing what's inside of it. "come in" I yell..There was no answer so I got up and opened the door and looked down the hall, no one was there. I walk down the hall looking inside of the rooms to see if anyone else was up here with me but no one else was...So i started to walk down the stairs when i felt this cold breeze that made me jump and fall down the stairs. The last thing i remember is a girl, that looked like she was 11 or 12 laughing...


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