Cora Applebaum arrived home to great excitement within the family. Her parents had been successful in buying the house on Dyson Street and it meant a room for her. Sharing with your sister was no fun she had come to understand and so she embraced the move and all it meant for her.
Cora was given the room next to her parents and her sister Rachel the one down the end of the corridor.
On her first night in the room, Cora couldn’t help but feel a degree of unease. It was a new environment she thought, of course, it would feel strange. She had already unpacked a lot of her stuff and had begun to make the room her own.
In the morning, she noticed one of her posters she had the night before stuck to her wall was lying on the floor. The next morning her dressing table chair had been turned around the wrong way.
Things like this happened every night and the growing sense of unease within the room had not changed. In fact, it seemed to Cora to be getting worse.
By the end of the first week, the breathing had begun. She’d awaken in the middle of the night with the realisation that she could definitely hear someone breathing. She’d turned on her bedside lamp and to discover the room was as it should be.
She alerted her parents to the issue and after a week of them being woken with her screams at first and then persistent calling out they took her to see a psychologist. His recommendation was to get Cora to write down what she saw and heard. That way he reasoned she’d come to understand what she was saying was all about her imagination. This suited Cora as she loved to write.
So, began the creation of a folder on her laptop: ‘Haunted’.
Her initial entries were about things being moved. She found it hard to describe the breathing. At first, she thought it was her imagination but it was becoming a regular feature of her nights.
Like so much that happens she came to accept the breathing until she felt the cold. It descended with the breathing, she found it chilling, her body began to shake, she could all but feel the breath on her.
After twenty entries about the events of each evening, she went back to see her counsellor. He marvelled at her imagination, told her to continue and soon the events of each night would cease.
Cora was no so confident.