My wooden dresser

February 24, 2025

by Magali

2 min read

Story Premise 2 min read (397 words)

"A long time ago, people were crazy about spirits and guardian charms. You could find them in every shop, little pins with tiny wings. Everyone had one on their coat. There were also books everywhere, telling stories about people meeting angels. Someone gave me a book that promised to teach how to call one. Looking […]"

A long time ago, people were crazy about spirits and guardian charms. You could find them in every shop, little pins with tiny wings. Everyone had one on their coat. There were also books everywhere, telling stories about people meeting angels.

Someone gave me a book that promised to teach how to call one. Looking back, I don’t think that was a good idea. But at the time, I was young and curious. I was home alone, so I thought, “Why not try?” I don’t remember the exact steps, but I know I had to say some special words. I grabbed a notebook, a pen, and began reading the chant.

At first, nothing happened. Then, thoughts started popping into my head—words that rhymed. It was like something was whispering them to me, and I just wrote them down. I asked for a name, and I got one. But as soon as I did, the air in the room changed.

The space around me felt heavy, like something huge was standing there. My wooden dresser made cracking sounds as if it was shifting on its own. Then I saw something strange—tiny gold flecks falling from nowhere, like glitter floating down from the ceiling. Instead of feeling safe, I was terrified.

I begged whatever it was to leave. My fear was too strong. I ran into the bathroom and shut the door. I stood in front of the sink, squeezing my eyes shut, still whispering for it to go away.

Then, out of nowhere, I felt something. A cold touch, pressing right in the middle of my back.

I gasped and spun around, but nothing was there. The room went back to normal. No sounds, no glittering lights. I let out a shaky breath, relieved that it was over.

But my back still felt cold. I lifted my shirt and looked in the mirror. Right between my shoulders was a giant purple mark, like a bruise. It didn’t hurt, but it was clear as day. I felt sick just looking at it.

Later, when my boyfriend came home, I told him everything. I showed him my back—but the mark was gone. Like it had never been there at all.

I never tried calling anything again. And I got rid of that book.

Even now, I wonder… what did I really invite that night?

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