Growing up, I always had an interest in all things horror-related—horror movies, horror stories, horror documentaries, and many more. Perhaps it was because I liked the adrenaline rush, or maybe I wanted to be different from others. While all girls my age watched princesses and fairies, I indulged in cursed stories. I remember thinking I was better than all of them.
One of the stories I listened to was about a ritual called “Bloody Mary.” Although there are many versions of the story, the one I heard involved being in the bathroom, lighting twelve candles, closing the lights and the door while having a window open. According to superstitions, if you repeat “Bloody Mary” three times out loud and blow out the twelve lit candles at midnight, the ghost of Bloody Mary is supposed to come and take your soul.
One night, my parents were away, and I was home alone. I thought it would be a good idea to do the “Bloody Mary” ritual, so I did. I lit the twelve candles, closed the door, turned off the lights, and opened the window. My voice was shaking when I said “Bloody Mary” three times out loud. Whatever happened after I blew the candles out, I remember feeling a huge weight off my shoulders, and I felt like everything changed. You might wonder what changed. The thing that changed was my life. I remember thinking to myself, “All this time, I believed that horror stories were true, but they are all lies.”
I felt devastated because the only reason I enjoyed horror stories was that I believed they were real. Now, the enjoyment was gone, and I thought there was no point in enjoying unreal beliefs.
That night I went to bed and had a dream. In my dream, there was a figure I always envisioned Bloody Mary to be. She told me that she noticed me. I woke up sweating and breathing heavily. I realized that the ritual might have worked, and I went back to sleep. After that night, nothing extraordinary happened, and I have been living my life without any problems while still maintaining an interest in horror-related subjects.