Creative Writing: Middle Rooms

David, the priest never went back to the house again. He just gave us a rosary made from quartz beads; he went out from that place forever, not before telling us that we should perform the same ceremony on the upper floor, where the evil spirits dwelled.
That wasn’t any news since I was a child I had always known that the middle rooms housed “evil forces” and that were places filled with suffering and even hatred. When I was very little I sometimes played there, but later when the old lady began to appear, I swore I would never get in there again.
Anyways, since the day of the ceremony, it was evident that the atmosphere in the house was heavier. Every morning I would find dead little birds, humidity stains on the walls, and dozens of worms

I wore it that way because Águeda asked me to, he wanted it to protect me, but during the night, I took my shirt off to put on the pajamas when dozens of little balls and quartz cubes rolled down to the floor and landed far away from my feet. I tried to pick them up but I thought it over and I swept them under the bed. When the quartz began to get lost in the darkness a sound as boiling oil or snaps of something burning could be heard. I didn’t hear the hateful little voices, there were just evident the sounds of something which is roasted on the fire. I would have loved to see smoke or those rats running out of the house, but that didn’t happen, only the

So I didn’t talk about it.
-The dream catcher is going to help your boy. Don’t move it from there, until you are totally sure that that damned thing is no longer around. Then you will be able to unpin it and bury it far away from here.
It appeared to be an ancient ritual. But as things were, I decided to do what Anton said and to follow his instructions. After all, it meant protection to Damien and I couldn’t play with that.
In my kid’s bedroom, I saw the little dream catcher pinned to the wall next to his bed. It was a piece of fabric, with red thread embroidery, with small decorations and tiny feathers. I smiled at the amulet, but I trusted in Anton.
Damien was lying on his bed; he saw the amulet and smiled too. My beautiful son, in spite of the bad times we were going through, still kept a good mood. He was certainly stronger and more intelligent than I had ever been when I was a kid. At his age, I was a bundle of nerves. He wasn’t. That boy possessed a huge internal strength and he didn’t let anything intimidate