The Cheshire House Eight

Hello Journal,

My hair looks pretty good but the color came out not the same. The picture on the container shows a very light lavender on the model. But it was several shades darker on me. Sure it came out nice but I wonder why it's not the same.

Anywho.

Dana showed me how to dye my hair, by bleaching my hair. It wasn't too hard. Smelled about as good as you'd expect hair-dye to smell. But other than that, I was enjoying myself. I have been spending the past few hours running my fingers through it. And my hair hasn't been crunchy at all or even fried like I feared. Just lusciously soft lavender hair. That I probably have to dye back to black before I go to school. Mom would probably cut off all my hair if I don't.

I don't wanna experience that...again.

I know that sounds completely terrible and anyone would think bad. But my Mom warned me to not do anything weird to my hair. I hadn't dyed it, I just curled it without permission. My hair looked fine. To me, it looked perfectly fine. Of course my Mom hit the roof and she took the scissors to my hair. She cut my hair so short that I looked like a little kid. So you could imagine how the next day of school was like. This was about three years ago, I think.

My brain kind of hid it away as I tried to repress it.

Anyway, it's a great look for me that I'll change about two weeks before summer is over. Dana said it wouldn't be too hard to change back to black. Which is great and we finished doing all of this over an hour ago. It's currently three in the afternoon. I'm spending time in the little room now. It's been good. Again, no weird dreams. There hadn't been any disturbing noises.

I've been touring the room for a bit and have found nothing exciting. Well nothing so far. The books on this shelf that I hadn't noticed before. The bookshelf itself is in a dumb place. Right over the doorway. Sure the door wasn't too big, it was something I had to crawl through. At any rate I'll check through it after I check out the room. There's only about three of them in the shelf. Two look like old fashioned storybooks.

One looks like a journal, like you are.

You know what? I'm just going to read the thing. The room really has nothing that I haven't seen before and I wanna be sure of what it is. So I'll just stop writing for a little bit. It probably isn't anything all that interesting but whatever. I got nothing else to do.

Okay so, some of the books are indeed just story books. Two of them definitely are at least. And one of the books is a journal. The journal is this odd old faded burgundy color. I think it's made of fabric but I'm not completely sure what kind of fabric it is. Whatever it is,it's very soft. Durable as well. I kind of don't understand why I hadn't noticed it before. There's no lock on it either. So I guess it's obviously not a kid's. This room wasn't just for kid's either. Kind of like the public library.

But more convenient.

Anyway, it seems to be a journal of a boy. He has written that he's around my age. His name is sorta hard to read. This guy's handwriting is lovely in all but the cursive is just so..I can't describe it. All I can make out at first was that his first name is "Trevor". In this entry, he describes that his Father gave him this to record what was going on. And he makes it sound like his dad is doing some odd experiment on people.

Less like he was into doing some occult stuff. But more like he wanted to cheat death like every other mad scientist. Less Victor Frankenstein and more like zombie territory. It seems complicated as well. I feel like his Father is going to do something wrong to this kid. And I ain't too sure why I feel this way.

...he's giving him pills that make him sick. Violently sick. Like he vomits after every time he takes one of the pills. And he's taken to hiding them in the wall of the room...the room I'm in. There's no description of what wall he did it in. I can't believe someone would do something so sick to their own kid. I wonder if this is real or not. It just seems too big a coincidence to be a real book and I'm worried. Do I call my Mom about this? Do I call anyone about this fucking book other than maybe Raven. I don't know what to tell her to get her to come over. I mean, how am I going to explain this to her?

I need to stop reading this journal and put it back. It's not like I'm being compelled by some force to continue. Right now I'm acting like an idiot person in a remarkably horrible Creepypasta. One who dies and somehow uploads their story to a website.

But I want to know more about Trevor and why this happened. It-it's just so disturbing. I wonder if his family still live here. Descendants or something like that. Maybe he got out...the journal stops about thirty pages to the end. The page I'm on is halfway through this. So far he's witnessed his Dad sewing dead body's in Frankenstein manner. He even wrote that. That his father was acting like Victor Frankenstein but more driven. Less with caring for others and more wanting to keep a body for himself. For some strange need to keep living on past the normal years for a human to live. Trevor's words were getting progressively more panicked. A month had passed for this entry and it was during the winter months. Early December from the date. The year was about eighteen-something. His hand-writing wasn't perfectly clear...his words were about his Father wanting him to do something for him.

The something wasn't clear either.

But you could tell that it was something worthy of patricide as he shakily wrote in his journal. His plan was to take his father's hatchet and bury it in his skull. The entry seems horribly rushed as if he's writing it down to tell someone in case he failed. So someone would find it or something to that effect. I'm still unsure of what he wanted to try. But it was desperate. Like he felt these would be his last words he'd ever write.

I...I'm wondering though...he said that he lived with his Father, Mother, and his two siblings. A baby brother and older sister. The older sister had fled the house with a friend ten pages into the journal. But he never mentioned what became of his Mother or his baby brother. I've been trying to read what had happened to them, there's nothing. So I'm putting this back.

It's giving me this feeling like I'm being watched.

When I turned around, nothing is there. No one. Yet...I still feel like I have to leave the room now. Flicking the light off, I scurried out of there right now...not writing. I just started after I locked the storage room. The-the noises are back. Great big banging noises like something wants out of the room. I-I'll write when I get the chance. For now I gotta call someone. I gotta call Raven.

I'll be back soon,

Morticia.

________________________

PS: I was...Raven says she's spending the night here. When she came in,the noises didn't stop at all. And I watched her as she ran up the stairs with this odd container in her hand. I think it was salt.

The noises stopped a few minutes later, she chewed me out after this. Asking me why I hadn't told her about it. And I felt like a dork when I explained it. Then she told me that I was a nerd for not telling her. After she chewed me out, she said she's staying. Right now she's ordering us some pizza. I feel so much safer now. We'll deal with whatever it is tomorrow, I'll be fine. As long as I'm not alone tonight. I'll be perfectly fine. Just like in horror movies. Not being alone is safer than being the lone idiot without a phone or weapon.