When I was seventeen years old, my family spent the summer in an old cabin in Oregon that my dad bought. My parents loved it, but I didn't, mostly because of the evil presence that lived there. P.S. I live in Tacoma now.
I don't remember much of the first day but I do remember my first moments there when I was unpacking. The parts of the walls that weren't peeled away was an aged beige that was awful.
I think my first experience I remember was the third morning. My mother was upset that one of her spoons went missing. I thought it was just a weird coincidence. I mean spoons go missing all the time.
Later that afternoon, another "coincidence" happened. My mother thought she saw a rat crawl into the bookshelf. My father got a broom and went downstairs to investigate. After a while, we got worried when he didn't come back but my mother was too afraid to go downstairs so I had to go. I got a flashlight and walked down the creaky basement. As I got downstairs, The flashlight went off and I just stood there in fear scared like a little boy. The lights would not turn on. I noticed a dim light near the end at the hall and noticed it was my fathers. I was like OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! I was freaking out. I heard a loud roar coming from the behind me. I turned and noticed my father asleep on the floor. He must have past out. I woke him up and he jumped with so much fear I almost fell to the floor. He cried "Anthony" and collapsed. My mom rushed him to the hospital where they found out he had a heart Attack.
We didn't go home until my dad was discharged from the hospital. When we got home, the seemingly empty house, was a mess.
Books were flung around on the floor and carpets were torn up. Dolls were headless and priceless china now broken into little pieces. Strangely, the unworking basement light was now a glowing yellow.
I ran downstairs and screamed so loud that my parents could have thought I was being murdered. There was blood or paint all over the walls. About a hundred times, the same message was splattered on every space of wall.
DARK ANTHONY.
I remember my father saying the name Anthony before collapsing.
My mother was insisting that maybe we should leave or it was some cruel joke or a robbery. Unlikely, I thought. What robber steals nothing and only writes in red and breaks things.
The next day: I drove my parent's car to a library in Portland and went on one of the computers.
I typed in something like
CLACKAMAS ANTHONY
I got one interesting result.
October 25 1968
Murder in small town kills child, mother.
In what has already said to be one of the most brutal murders in Oregon's history was here in this cabin in Clackamas, Oregon.The two dead are 8 year old Anthony Brosco and 37 year old mother Debbie Brosco were found repeatedly stabbed in the throat by an unknown object.
Officer Brad Ridley spoke on the deadly killing
"It was disgusting, blood everywhere, The boy..." He was crying "He was stabbed in the throat 12 times and once in each palm and most wounds, while not fatal, some were deadly. His Mother suffered 20 wounds to the throat and died instantly".
I was thinking
"What sick person does this"
I found another report.
The suspect in the grizzly murders of Debbie Brosco, 37 and son Anthony, 8 has been arrested.
32 year old Robert Churchill was arrested by Oregon state authorities early Monday near the Portland border.
I did some research and found that Robert Churchill was sent to a mental asylum in north Carolina where he died in 1980.
Later that night, I was sleeping when I was awoken by the sensation of stabbing. I saw my father, bloody and pale with the blackest of eyes that were not my father's. I managed to push him aside and run.
I later found out the blood was my mother's.
I ran from the house and called the police. My father was caught hours later in the woods, dead.
Ever since then, I have lived in fear of death.
Earlier this year, I did some research on the house and found that the people who moved in had been murdered and the only survivor, a 33 year old uncle, had said that a boy named dark Anthony had haunted them.
(P.S. he committed suicide)
Now I am at a dead end, forever wondering what really happened.
I was thinking
"What sick person does this"
I found another report.
The suspect in the grizzly murders of Debbie Brosco, 37 and son Anthony, 8 has been arrested.
32 year old Robert Churchill was arrested by Oregon state authorities early Monday near the Portland border.
I did some research and found that Robert Churchill was sent to a mental asylum in north Carolina where he died in 1980.
Later that night, I was sleeping when I was awoken by the sensation of stabbing. I saw my father, bloody and pale with the blackest of eyes that were not my father's. I managed to push him aside and run.
I later found out the blood was my mother's.
I ran from the house and called the police. My father was caught hours later in the woods, dead.
Ever since then, I have lived in fear of death.
Earlier this year, I did some research on the house and found that the people who moved in had been murdered and the only survivor, a 33 year old uncle, had said that a boy named dark Anthony had haunted them.
(P.S. he committed suicide)
Now I am at a dead end, forever wondering what really happened.
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