I never believed in the supernatural until I inherited my grandma’s old house. It was a beautiful estate, surrounded by lush gardens and towering trees, but it had a dark history. My grandma was a recluse, and she rarely ventured out of her house. She was always muttering to herself and had a strange fascination with the occult.
One day, while cleaning out the attic, I stumbled upon a dusty old box filled with strange books, candles, and pentagrams. The books were in Latin, and I couldn’t decipher a single word. But something about them fascinated me. I started reading them at night, under the flickering light of the candles.
That’s when I started experiencing strange things. At first, it was just a cold draft or a creaking floorboard. But then I started hearing voices, whispers in the darkness. And then one night, I woke up to find my cat, Mr. Whiskers, staring at me with glowing red eyes.
I tried to brush it off as my imagination, but things started getting worse. I found strange symbols etched into the walls of my house, and my pets started acting strangely. My dog, Max, refused to go into certain rooms, and my parrot, Polly, started mimicking voices I’d never heard before.
I tried to ignore it all and go about my business, but then I started noticing strange people lurking around my property. They wore black robes and carried torches, and they always seemed to be watching me.
One night, while I was sleeping, I heard a loud banging at my door. When I opened it, I found myself face to face with a group of hooded figures. They grabbed me and dragged me into the woods behind my house.
I found myself in the middle of a satanic cult ritual. They were chanting in Latin and sacrificing animals on an altar. My pets were there too, tied up and terrified.
I tried to run, but they caught me and dragged me back to the altar. That’s when I saw it – a huge demon with red eyes and horns. It was the source of all the evil in my house.
I thought I was going to die that night, but then something miraculous happened. Mr. Whiskers leaped from his bindings and attacked the demon. The other pets joined in, biting and clawing at the cultists.
In the chaos, I managed to break free and run back to my house. When I looked back, the demon was gone, and the cultists were scattered in all directions.
I called the police and reported everything that had happened. They found evidence of the cult’s activities in the woods behind my house, but they never caught any of them.
To this day, I still have nightmares about that night. But I’m grateful for my pets. They saved my life and protected me from something truly evil.