The Whispers of Jane Doe

Dear Julian,

I feel like I should apologize for passing on that cursed thing to you, though I guess you’re just as skeptical as Jessie and the mere mention of the word “curse” has made you roll your eyes. Honestly, I wish I could share your skepticism at times.

Jessie has been looking over my shoulder, trying to see what I’m writing because he thinks it’s a big joke. To be fair, I often minimized the effect it had on me because we already had enough to worry about. And maybe I didn’t want to think about it too much.

If you haven’t opened the box yet, you should do it now, before I freak you out even further. You’ll see the item I’ve convinced Jessie to ship to you isn’t all that bad. It’s only a hairclip. A pretty one, sure, with rusted metal teeth that squeak when you press to open them, and a marigold flower on top, sculpted out of what I think is citrine quartz. It isn’t valuable, in case you’re wondering. I once had the piece evaluated and the most I got offered for it was twenty dollars.

Pretty as it might be, I’ve never wanted this thing in our house because it’s always given off… perhaps the best way to put it is “a bad energy”. Does that make sense to you? I often struggle to explain this to people who aren’t from my culture. In my household, these types of conversations were common. If my mother even suspected an item to have “bad energy”, she’d get it out of the house immediately.

Jessie shakes his head whenever I say things like this, and I don’t blame him. I never claimed this is valid or that it makes logical sense. It is simply true to me.

The moment Jessie got that hairclip out of his pocket, I knew there was something unpleasant about it. It was more than just my general hesitation on having previously owned items in the home. That hairclip was Bad, I don’t know how else to describe it. Chill-down-your-spine Bad. Look-over-shoulder Bad. And now, it would sit on Sophia’s bookshelf for the next five years.

I’d be lying if I said dread has consumed my every waking hour since I got that thing in the house, but I wasn’t thrilled either. Mostly, knowing it was there, waiting on the bookshelf, nagged me somewhere in the back of my head. I was always aware of it, like a leak on the roof that you’re meant to fix but never does. It bothers you if you remember it’s there, so you train yourself to never remember.

Allie used to stand guard next to it, eyes on it as her tail wagged from one side to another. Sophia would tut her if she caught her staring.

“Silly dog. That’s not a chew toy.”

I pointed that out to Jessie. Clearly, there was something wrong with that thing. He asked me what I meant by that, but that was as far as I could go.

Something.

There was something wrong with it.

What?

Something.

Something bad. Something off. Something… just… something.

He didn’t get it, but he said, “Tina, if it makes you feel better, I can get rid of it.”

Yes!, I thought. Let’s do that.

I put it in the trash that very second.

Only five minutes later, we caught Sophia taking it back to her room, muttering to herself.

“No, no, no. That’s not where this goes, Jessie. Silly boy”

Jessie’s attempt to explain the hairclip was old and belonged in the trash caused his mother to snap at him. And then she started screaming about something unrelated. I hope you never have to see someone you love deteriorate in front of you, Julian. It isn’t a pretty sight.

I told Jessie to let her keep it. He was already heartbroken and I didn’t want to aggravate the situation any further.

Nothing horrible happened. No one was possessed and no ghostly lady was spotted looking for her long-lost hairclip. Sometimes, Allie would wander into Sophia’s room and whine at the thing, as if asking it to come outside with her to dig holes in the ground. Otherwise, life went on.

In five years, there was only one occasion that truly freaked me out. This was maybe a year ago. Sophia’s mental state had already declined significantly, to the point that she’d barely move or speak, and Allie had passed away, making the house even more eerily quiet at night.

I got out of bed around 2 am to get a glass of water and decided to check on Sophia just to make sure she was alright. The nurse we’d hired hadn’t come that night for some personal reason I can’t recall.

Her bedside lamp was on - she refused to sleep with the lights off - and I could see her silhouette reflected on the opposite wall. She was standing, and I didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad one. She whimpered. A soft, sad whimper. I knew it was Sophia, but my heart still tried to leap out of my chest. That was it. The something. The ghost of Jane Doe was here to get her hairclip back. And she’d stab us with the pointy end for good measure.

Sophia continued to whimper. I made out the words.

“Poor thing… poor, poor thing.”

I did my best to swallow my fear. There was nothing there. She was just a confused, old lady who needed to go back to bed.

I pushed the door open and asked, “Sophie? Is everything alright? Do you need help?”

She was hunched near the bookcase, staring at the marigold. Her fingers were stroking the petals gently, like it was a scared animal. The lamplight was faint. When she turned, her face was covered in shadow. I could see the shades her wrinkles left on her forehead, but she looked at me with a childish sadness, a little girl who’d just been confronted with a bird with a broken wing.

“She needs help, Tina. She can’t get out.”

It’d been at least a few weeks since I’d heard her say a word, and even then it had been more a grunt than a cohesive thought. That night, though, she had managed a clear sentence and even gotten my name right. I should have seen it as a sign of improvement, but it just left a bad taste in my mouth. It wasn’t natural.

“It’s alright, Sophie.”

“No, no. She needs help. Can you help her?”

She held up the hairclip with both hands and presented it to me. The yellow stone in the center sparked in the light like an evil eye. I didn’t want to touch it, but she was holding it up, expecting me to take it and do something about it.

Expecting me to set her free.

I took that thing with a shaking hand and hoped nothing would jump out of it and take a hold of my soul. But nothing happened. It was just an old hairclip. Pretty, beaten, and definitely cursed, even if I couldn’t prove it.

“Yes,” I managed to say. “Yes, alright, I’ll see what I can do. Let’s go back to bed now, okay?”

She replied with a tired “okay”. After that, she fell asleep as soon as I pulled the covers over her shoulders.

I was still holding the hairclip. The air conditioning had made the stone freezing cold and I couldn’t wait to let go of it. I dropped it on the bookshelf, more or less where it always sat, and hurried out of the room.

In my haste, I can’t be sure who talked to me. Logically, I know it was Sophia, but the way the hairs on the back of my neck stood up suggests something else. One word, quiet and clear, said straight into my ear.

Out.

I was in such a hurry to get back under my own covers that I caused our entire bed to shake when I lied down. Jessie opened his eyes and looked at me.

“You okay?”

“Your mom was out of bed. She’s asleep now.”

“M’kay…”

He closed his eyes.

I hardly blinked all night. Every crack and sigh made me jump.

Sophia didn’t mention it again. The next morning, she was back to being her unresponsive self. If she’d been lucid that night, she didn’t retain anything from our conversation and never asked me to get whoever that was “out” again.

Sophia needs more help than we can provide now, so we’re moving her to a home. And we’re finally getting rid of the cursed hairclip. I doubt you’ll find it nearly as threatening, and I don’t think it will whisper to you in the dead of night. But if it does, I’m sorry.

And if it asks you to get her out, whoever she is, please don’t.

Regards,

Cristina