What meets the eye...

What meets the eye...

Look me in the eye. What do you see? A happy little girl, smileing back at you? A sweet lagh and long blond hair? They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul. But if you see a happy girl by looking deep into my eyes; you are so wrong. When I look in the mirror I see anger. A unknown face. Disepointment. Regrets. Lonelyness. Not a bright smile and shine hair. So now look me in the eye. What do you see? Can you see who I am? Who am I?

It started when my parens and I went for a trip to Bermuda. We had never traveled over sea before and all of us were really exited. We had eaven rentet the cutest little house were we were going to stay for two hwole weeks. Just mum, dad and me. Like we used to before grandmother suddenly pased away two years ago. After her suddent death mum was so mad and didnt lissen to anybody. She had just blocked everyone out and sat in her bed for months. It was a horrible time for all of us. Spesialy for mum. But now she was so much bether and she smiled again. She eaven made brabefest sometimes and went with me to the mall. It was good to have her back.

The trip started in Cuba. Not far awey form Bahamas really. But we were goning all the way to Bermuda. Like a big happy family of thre people loveing echother. We went on the chip and found oure room. It wasn't a big room, but it was cind of cosy. It was a very small room with three beds, and an eaven smaller bathroom and a tiney tyney closet that proberbly was just big anough to fit my bag. So I pushed my stuff under my bed in the corner. «Im so glad we're just staying here for one night,» dad said. «or else I think I would choke in here.» we all laghed. It wans'nt funny really, but we knew that dad thought it was so mum and I just laghed to be polight and dad belived it every time.

The first day was cind of boring. We didn't do much. Well.. It wasn't much to do eather, so I sat in the room reading this book allmost the whole day. The book were called ''Flinght 19''. the title hadn't realy got to me. But the school insisted that we read a book in the summer vication so I just grabed the first I saw and went home. When I started reading, it was all about this flight mition from Florida thet went wrong. It realy got to me. It was like I have ben reading for a minute and when I looked at the clock I had ben sitting there for three or foure hours. It was an amasing book. And I loved it. Spesialy sinse it was all about the Bermuda Treangle that went from Miami to San Juan to Bermuda. Whate a minute! Bermuda? That's were I was heading. From Cuba to Bermuda. I found a map that lied in the draer to see where we were heading. I draw the lines from Bermuda to San Juan and Miami. It formed a Treangle. Oh my God! We were heading rigt into the Bermuda Treangle!

When mum and dad came back to the room I told them what I had foud out, but they didn't belive me. «It's just a story, deare. Nothing to be afraid of.» But I wasn't so shore. What if it was true? What if we went to oure dedth and I was the only one to know? What was I going to do? No.. I should lisen to dad. It was only a silly book. Maybe there were many stories about planes, ships and peoples that had ben missing in this spesific area, but that didn't mean they were all true. Fishermen and plane disepare all the time, never to be sean again. It didn't mean that this place were spesyally exposed. It was just a silly story. But still, I didn't want to sleep that nigtht. I just lied awake in my bed stearyng at the roof. Praying that nothing wrong would happend.

Orund 7 AM I was waked by a door slamming. I'm not realy that jumpy but right now I was. My eies were wide open and my heart were beating like a horrorkane. I thougt it was just a bad dream and were about to go back to sleep when I notices something were missing. Or more spesific, -someone! My mum and dad was gone. I didn't think that it could have any normal explination at the time, like they had went to the bar or someting like that, and that was good, because it was noting like that, had hapen either. I trew on a big jacket and went out looking for my parents.

I went into the passage. «Hello? Anyone here?» I wispered. I didn't want to wake anyone in case they were all sleeping. I walked softly on my toes, trying not to make a single sound. I passed many other rooms. Some of the doors were closed, and some were open. I realy din't want to look inside the open-door rooms, but I did anyway. No one to see anywere. All the rooms were empty. «Something must be wrong,» I said to myselfe. «this isn't right.»

I kept on walking in the dark passage in my big, big jacket and my wide open eies, trying to find the stares that led to the uper deck, but I couldn't seem to finde them anywere. Suddenly I heared something. I turned around realy fast. Like when you get youre fingers burned and you automaticly snap youre hand away from the heat. Where did the sound come from? I stood totaly still. I didn't eaven take a singel breath. There it was again! It came from one of the crossing passages. I locked around and slowly I creeped in the diraction of the sound. It was like someone tride to come out. Hiting and scratshing the door in a desperate need of getting out. I saw a door moveing. Getting pushed out like when you push a door with all youre strength but without tuching the door handle. It stoped for some seconds and then it started again. It repited itselfe meny times and I jumped everytime.

Then I stood rigt in front of the door. My knees were shakeing so bad that they olmost drowned the noice from the room. I decided to take town the door handle and see wat was inside. I toock a step back and lent forwerd to reach the door handle. I tuched it with one of my fingers and later my whole hand were rapped tightly around it. My hand was swetty and my breath went thick like I was about to fade. I figured that it was much beter to just throw up the door, then to open it slowly. Who- or whatever that was incide this room proberly wanted to get the hell away from this room, so if I opened the door slowely I would just get the door in my face.

I took a big, last breth before I went for the door. I knew in my heart that this was all so wrong. That I realy shouldn't open this door, but something inside me told me that I had to find out what's behind this door. I pulled down the door handle. The door were slammed up, but not by me. I took a few steps back until I hit the wall behind me. I was like glued to the wall. With wide open eies I was wateing for what was incide the room, but nothing happend. It was so quiet that you would jump to the moon just by hearing a single pin hit the floor.

Suddenly a blach shadow run out of the room. I went cold as ice while I still were glude to the wall. What ever runed out of the room, it stoped just a few doors away. I steard at the creature. «What are you?!» I screamed. But it didn't answer. It just stared at me like it never had seen a liveing humen beaing before. For all I know, it might not.

I started to relise that the ting that looked at me actually were a humen beaing itselfe. Why not? The boat were floating around in the middle of the Bermuda Treangle. How can I know this thing weren't a person who just have ben hypnotized or something like that. The more I thougt about it, the more sertent I got. The thing looking at me, weren't a ting, but a pasanger on this ship to Bermuda, just as I was. The only thing was that it didn't behave like a human. It was breathing heverly and bend forword with its arm hanging almost in the grown. More like a zombie, like you see in all the old, bad horror movies.

Suddenly the thing started running again. I figuured out it was best to just go back to my room, but when have I ever done what's best? I run after it. Up the stares to the uper deck and all the way to the tip of the ship.

All the passangers were gatherd togeter and just stood there locking into the wather and makeing this horrible sounds. Like they were all handicapped and chokeing at the same time. Suddenly I saw that one of the things or zomies or what ever this was jumping over bord. Into the sea. Then an other one and an other one. In just seconds, halfe the people had jumped into the ocean. Thats when I got the eie on my parents. I ran to them and tried to make them come with me. But they didn't eaven seem to notice that I was there. I whaved my hans in front of them and tried to drag them back to the room. But they didn't move an inche. It was like they hade got paranormal strenth and were just glued to the floor like the tables on McDonals. I was so terrefied. Scared that this was the end of everything.

My parents started walking to the very tip of the chip. I drag theyr arms, but it had no afect what so ever. And then. They jumped. Just like that. Not eaven a single goodbye. They just jumped over bord never to be seen again. Like I wasn't there. Like they didn't care that I saw the hole thing. They just jumped. And that was it. No more mum and dougter shopping. No more dad singing while makeing brakefest. No more us. Ever!

So now when you look into a pritty, little girls shiny, blue eyes, don't let the first thing you notice be her looks, her body or her hair. If you look a little deeper into her eyes, you might see the story thats behind them. So look me in the eye. What do you see? This beautiful blue eyes have seen horrible things. Things you only can imagen. Can you see it? The terrifyed look she's giveing you? I'm telling you my story to warn you. This place is nothing to joke with. You might think it's just a horror story about a little girl who want some atention. But this is real. This place exsists. So look me in the eie, now, and tell me what you see. This eyes carry meny seacrets. Some are told and some are never to be released.

FØLG MEG

Følg meg..

Det jeg nå skal fortelle er en selvopplevd historie. Det skjedde en kveld jeg skulle opp til hytta til en kompiss av meg. Siden vi begge hadde hytte på fjellet og det ikke gikk ann å kjøre bil, så måtte jeg gå på ski. Det var ikke så veldig lange stykket. Bare ca. en kilometer og når jeg kom opp til hytta til Fritjof, for det var det han het, så koste vi oss og spilte kort og fortalte historier. Det var da han fortalte historien om de tre guttene som var i akkuratt denne hytta...«det var en gang tre unge gutter som bodde på en liten gård ikke langt fra denne hytta. Faktisk så eide foreldrene deres denne hytta. To av guttene var tvillinger. Hans og Bendik. De var begge 15 år. Også var det en litt yngere gutt da, Petter. Han var bare 8 år gammel. I denne lille familien så hadde de en slik tradisjon at når guttene fylte 15 år, skulle de ta den lange skituren fra gården og opp til hytta, overnatte og gå ned igjen. Dette var veldig mange år siden så de kledde seg opp med skinkapper og tre-ski og skinnfeller de skulle bruke som dyner oppe på hytta. Lille 8 år gamle Petter fikk også mast seg med på denne turen. De klemte mamma og pappa farvel og dro ut på den 3-timers skituren. Ute i skisporene var det sol og fuglene sang mellom greinene. Hans og Bendig gikk og plystret på en sang de akkuratt hadde hørt en av naboguttene synge på. Mens stakars Petter ikke helt klarte og følge med på plystringen, men han nynnet litt i takt.
Pluttserlig hørte Petter en kvist brekke av et fotrinn bak seg. Han snudde seg brott og fikk øynene på en vakker ung pike som gikk i en hvit silkekjole. Kjolen hadde ikke armer og piken gikk barbeint. Alikevel, ennå det var midt på vineren, så hun ikke ut til å fryse. Piken fiklet med det lange, blonde, krøllete håret sitt. Huden hennes var som en nyfødt baby. Og øynene hennes var himmel-blåe. Blåere en det klareste vann. Piken begynte å synge med den vakreste stemmen han noen gang hadde hørt. Piken kikket bort på han. Sang sangen sin og begyne å gå vekk fra dem. Petter ropte på Hans og Bendik. “se!!” ropte han og løp mot de to eldre brødrene hans. Han pekte bort der piken hadde stått, men hun var søkk borte. “ikke tull nå, Petter,” sa hans. “nå må vi komme oss opp på hytta. I denne farten er vi ikke der før midnatt. Raska på folkens.” “men jeg er sikker på at jeg så..” Petter pekte en gang til i retning av pken. “så hva?” sa bendik. “en pike.” “en pike? Her?” sa Hans overfladisk. “hun sang. Og det var vakkert.” “pøh!” Hans nølte. “er ikke du litt for ung for å tenke på vakre piker som synger?” sa han nølende og tittet usikkert ned på broren sin.Vel oppe på hytta begynte guttene og pakke ut sakene. Petter måtte så klart ligge i midten siden han var så redd, så de redde opp til alle tre i dobbeltsenga. Så satte de seg ute i stua å begynte og prate og spille et spill de kaldte “dødmans skute”. Det gikk ut på at den som hadde nøkkelen skulle velge en ting, den som hadde skipet, skulle gjjøre. Pluttserlig hørte Hans en vakker pike-stemme synge de vakreste toner i ennen av trange gangen søm førte til utgangsdøren. Han skjønte at dettte ikke var riktig. De skulle jo være alene her. Hans kikket intenst etter stemmen. Nesten hypnotisert. Han følte seg herlig lett, som om han fløy gjennom rommet i det han stabbet ut mot utgangsdøren. Bendik fikk øye på Hans og lurte hva han skulle, men Hans bare fortsatte rett mot døren. “HANS!!!” skrek Bendik, men Hans enset han ikke engang. Pluttserlig kunne Bendik også høre denne vakre kvinnestemmen. Han gikk mot Hans. Nå sto de rett ved siden av verandre. De åpnet døren, og utenfår sto en vakker ung pike. Hvit silkekjole og lagt blondt hår. Hun sang de vakreste toner. Hans og Bendik var hodestups forelsket. Piken hvisket med en stemme ingen mann på denne jord kunne motstå. “føølg meeg..” visket hun. “føølg meeg..” gutten tok et skritt ut i den kalde snøen. Det var mørkt og bøåste kaldt, men guttene ville bare se mer av denne vakre piken. De fulgte etter stammen inn i det mørket snøfallet. Petter skjønte hva guttene bar seg ut på. For han husket piken fra skituren opp så han tomlet rett bak dem for å passe på at de ikke gjorde noe dumt. Da han kom ganske nær dem så han hvor de var på veg hen. De gikk rett opp mot Grimmepiggen. Det var et så bratt fjell at ingen mann noen gang hadde satt sin fot på det. Og hvis de hadde det, så hadde de aldri blitt sett igjen. For det var der Huldra bodde. Han løp opp mot brødrene sine og begynte å dra dem i klærne og skrike og hyle. Men det eneste guttene hørte. Var en ung pikes stemme hviske på dem. “føølg meeg.. føølg meeg..” og guttene fulgte etter. Nå hadde guttene kommet helt opp på spissen av Grimmepiggen. De hørte piken viske etter dem. Ut mot kanten. “føølg meeg.. føølg meeg..” guttene gikk helt ut på kanten. “FØØØLG MEEEG!!!” skrek piken med en heselig stemme som fikk hele fjellet til og riste. Snøen de sto på begynte og løsne og guttene bar nedover fjellveggen. De skrek og skrek for de hviste hva som hadde skjedd. Pluttserlig ble alt stille. Det eneste som var igen var en liten gutts gråt, en gråt over sine tapte brødre. Han løp ned mot hytta igjen for og hente et parr ski og si hva som hedde skjedd til foreldrene. En liten redd og fortomlet gutt på 8 år hadde akkuratt settt brødrene sine falle utfor et stup og slått halvt i hjel. Hele tiden mens han løp på skia hjem, så han en pike-sjikkelse bak seg. Hun sang til han, men gutten snudde seg ikke får å se et sekund.
“mamma! Pappa!” Petter løp gråtende inn til foreldrenes soverom. “det var en jente og Hans og Bendik gikk og så falt de å nå er de bort!” moren og faren ble fortvilet med gutten sin dit brødrene hadde forsvunnet.
I flere dager og netter lette den stakkars foreldrene etter sine to tapte sønner uten lykke. De tok til konklusjon at det var huldra som hadde lokket sønnene deres inn i fjelet.
De la mat og penger. Gull og alt annet verdifult de hadde, ved fjellet. I håp omat huldra skulle gi tilbake sønnene deres. Og huldra låvte dem at sønnene skulle komme tilbake i god beholl. Men årene gikk. Mmoren døde. Faren døde. Petter døde. Alt som var igjen av denne familien var denne hytta og et tapt minne av to 15-år gamle gutters latter som ronget i fjellene. Hvis du er ute på kalde snødager kan man fortsatt se gutten iført ssine gamle drakter. På veg hvem til foreldrene sine. For huldra holder Altid løfte sitt.
“jaja. Det var vel synd for den familien” sa jeg og lo litt, ve snakket og lo litt til og etter en stund ble det mørkt. “jeg tror nok jeg burda sette kursen hjemmover.” sa jeg og reiste meg fra stolen. “det har ver kos å være her, men jeg vil ikke gå hjem i snøstorm.” “ja, det er nok sant. Pass deg for huldra da,” lo han. “hvis du ser en vakker ung pike så ikke følg etter henne. “hehe, neida.” “hade da.” “hade.” jeg vinket forvel og gikk ut døra. Spente på meg skia og begynte på hjemmoverturen. Det var veldig mørkt og snø og vind pisket meg i ansiktet. Forran meg på vgen kunne jeg skimte to unge gutter. De kan ikke ha vært mere enn 15-16 år. De hadde utrolig merkerlige klær på deg. Med skinnfellersurra rundt seg og e tråd surret rundt livet. Når de kom nærmere så jeg at heller ikke skia var av nyeste modell. De var av tre og så ut som om de skulle falle fra verandre. Den ene gutten gikk og bar på en lykt forran seg. De så meg ikke en gang opp i ansiktet. De bare gikk rett forbi meg. Jeg hørte de viske noe i det de gik forbi. “følg meg.” hvisket de, men i det jeg snudde meg for å se etter dem, var de søkk borte...