Stories Appear in Chronological, Descending Order

Scroll all the way down to read the first entry. 

"Stories by D: HER 3 A.M. Visits"

Stories by D: Cave from Hell

The two shadows lurked at me; I could see the whites of their eyes. They did not seem to want to cross the beam of light. I thought to myself, 'Oh great, they're vampires!' The novels by the indomitable and infamous Anne Rice circled in my head. I pictured Rice's protagonist, undead characters in my head and how they avoided light of any kind. Fucking tangent. My inability to focus always bests me when I am faced with anxiety of this magnitude. Yeah, like I am faced with ghosts, goblins, and maybe vampires all the time. This kind of anxiety was off the damn chart. The figures started walking closer to me. Once they passed the sunbeam, I figured they were no vampires - at least not like the one's in a Rice vampire novel. One of the figures was that of Bridget's and the other one was that of Jason's. I asked them where I was and what they wanted. Neither of them made attempts at responding to my questions or to even say anything remotely astute; they each looked like mannequins. My belly was hurting more, but I managed to walk closer to them. I was holding my side as if I had a gaping wound to protect. Bridget moved and started to act coherent, and she said she wanted to go home. I wanted to answer her with, 'yeah me too, bitch!' But, I stayed calm and kept my mouth shut. I was going to just stare at the both of them until one or both spoke to me. Just then, Jason started to turn around, as if to leave, so I ran toward him. He stopped and faced me. The chill in the cave became more cold. He said I "was supposed to leave the girl at her home and leave." I was not going to justify the decisions I had made. I really wanted to tell him, "fuck you!" But, I held back. Bridget started walking back to the shadowy corridor, but she fell down. Jason went to her and picked her up in his arms. It was so easy for him to do that. He carried her like she was a rag doll. I followed behind, having to walk fast because Jason was tall with long legs, so his pace was double that of mine. My side was hurting, but I was determined to keep up with Jason's cadence. He stopped not long after entering the dark hallway and placed Bridget on some boulders. He turned around and looked at me with a sinister grimace. Before I could react, he was next to me - he slithered his way like a snake. I could feel his hands on my forearms as if he was trying to lift me up, but I scrambled about and made myself free and ran. He was right in front of me, so I ran another direction, but there he was in front of me again. The cave was getting more cold. I was feeling clammy. I was afraid of what Jason's intentions were for me. He managed to pull me up and over the side of a stone wall. I don't recall how high the stony barrier was, but it was enough to send me far and fast. I landed hard. My entire body felt like it was broken. He was hovering over me with that eerie look, beckoning me or daring me to move. I had no intentions of making any sudden movements. I didn't have to move, Jason grabbed at me again and threw me against the rock wall. I hit my head. I didn't faint, but I knew I probably had a concussion. Jason started laughing at me. The chamber was getting colder and there was a malodorous smell starting to creep - like ammonia and sulfur combined. Jason was pushing me around, but he was no longer touching me. He was willing me to be thrown around the cave like I was nothing. I was in so much pain, but it failed in comparison to the fear Jason instilled in me. I knew I was going to die. I thought about the fake altar. I thought about my religious views - or lack of them. But, it was too late and unfair to second guess whatever faith I held for certain things and people. The dogma alone was not enough to behest my convictions of late. If I was going to die, I was going to do so without begging for mercy or being sorry for not being a believer. 

Stories by D: Discombobulated and Dazed

I woke up in this cavernous space with sand and small spiny rocks poking at my underside. I remembered the tree with the goose-pen opening, which I had chosen to enter for refuge from Bridget's mania, but I did not recall how I had come to arrive at this strange, unknown space. It didn't make sense. But, like everything else for the past several months, nothing made sense.  I was too logical to take things for what they were. I got up carefully to investigate my new surroundings. But, I had to be careful because my belly was injured, and I still did not know the extent of the injury. I looked at my hands, but they were clean from the blood I had wiped from my wounded side. I did not find not one single tear in my shirt that should have been made from the sharp branch Bridget had used as she assaulted me, and upon lifting my shirt, there was no wound. I was not maimed whatsoever, and although I could not see any evidence of Bridget's attack, I could still feel the pain of her discombobulated rage. I thought to myself, 'am I the one who was confused?' Adding to the fact that no physical mutilation had been done to my belly, not a single tear to my shirt, and not knowing how I ended up in this cave, I was starting to second guess the ride-share from its very inception. But, I had doubted myself too soon as I saw two figures appear at the dark opening of the cave. The light was beaming from an opening near the top shaft of the cave. The way the light was allowed to enter the cave cast shadows on anything too far away from where I was. But, the two figures crept closer to me, and as they got closer to the lighted path, they stopped. I could barely see their eyes. One of them appeared to smile; all I could see was its teeth, they were a deep white color. I was still too dazed from the fact that I could not recall how I had come to be in this cold, damp underground chamber, but I wanted to see what the hell those two things were. Fear had left my body as curiousity overcame the fright with stark displeasure. I wanted answers, and I fucking wanted them now. 

Stories by D: Lost and Afraid

Jason's SUV vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. It just disappeared into thin air. I rubbed my eyes in shock - as if that was going to help me see better. I felt like a stupid character in a cartoon; like when the coyote was always bested by that smarmy roadrunner. In this case, I was the foolish coyote with Acme dynamite in my hands - and it was getting ready to explode. I was so enraged that Jason would just leave like that. The audacity to show up and just leave like he did was enough to make me want to get in my vehicle and leave Bridget behind. After all, I wasn't responsible for her. I was paid to do a job, and I did it. I was not paid to continue on this ridiculous romp. I forgot for a second that Bridget had become provoked a few minutes ago, for some unknown reason (unknown to me), and attacked me. I had my back to her. I quickly turned around, but it was too late; she had run at me again, this time, she was wielding a large pointed stick. By the time Bridget got close enough to me, I couldn't move. I felt a pain in the side of my belly. I looked down and saw nothing, but the pain was present. I ran away as fast as I could - even as the pain was bearing down on me and causing me to get dizzy. I was running in a meandering manner, remembering from active shooter training that running in a zig-zag, random manner makes a target less easy to hit. I figured it also applied when running from a crazed person. I got to a place that appeared dense in foliage; in other words . . .  more trees. So, I headed in that direction hoping to be protected by the thick tree coverage. I was still zig-zagging when I saw a huge tree with a large opening in its trunk, like a goosepen. I quickly decided to seek refuge in the bore. I grabbed my stomach and noticed blood on my hands. The "crazy bitch" had stabbed me hard enough to penetrate my skin. It was too dark to notice how large the stab wound was. The hint of glimmer from the crescent moon was barely enough to allow me to notice the red of my blood, but the light was not enough for me to scan the damage done to my belly. I was getting sleepy, not from being tired but more likely from the blood loss. I knew I was going to pass out. I was scared that Bridget would end up finding me, and I would be too fatigued or unconscious to fight her off. Deep, unabated fear set in, and I had no plan-of-action - or knowledge that I would even survive this maniacal event.

Stories by D: Fight or Flight

As I called Jason's cell, I could tell that Bridget was getting restless. She was pacing back and forth in front of my vehicle, muttering something to herself. I could not hear or understand what she was saying or if it was even English - or even a human language. It was just creepy, Bridget was creepy, hell, this whole ordeal was creepy. I kept calling Jason, hanging up and calling . . . I was hellbent to get the son-of-a-bitch on the line. Suddenly, Bridget ran up to me and proceeded to knock the phone from my hand and wrenched her arm around my neck. I fought back and pushed her aside, but she ran at me once again. I moved away and managed to grab one of her arms and slung her around until my arms were able to grab her from behind in a locked position. She fought back and managed to turn herself around, but I grabbed her neck with both hands. She stopped fighting me, as if she wanted to die. Her body writhed as my thoughtless hands grabbed tighter. I must have been in a trance with my amygdala in fight-or-flight mode, and I had no intentions of letting tonight be my "last rodeo" on this earth. But, I snapped back into reality with enough time to let go of Bridget's neck until she collapsed to the ground. I became afraid that she might die, but she opened her eyes and grabbed at her neck as she struggled to breathe; she looked like someone with dyspnea. She took a while to get up. I was too afraid to go near her. I was already creeped out by the thought of her almost dying and having to handle a cold corpse. However, it was the idea that she might physically harm me again that kept me at bay. By the time Bridget recovered enough to get up, Jason was calling me back. I had dropped the stupid phone during the ordeal with Bridget, so there I was scrambling like poor Helen Keller with no idea where the phone was. My hearing had sustained damage 20 years ago. I had been left with 90% hearing in my right ear and almost none in my left. Plus, my eyes were in terrible shape. I guess one could say I had much physical impairment for a person of my not-so-old age. I finally managed to find the phone, with no help at all from the drama queen who was acting all victimized, just staring at me. By the time I answered, Jason had hung up. I returned the call to no avail; he was not picking up. I tried several more times for the next 30 minutes to get Jason on the phone, but he was unreachable - again. I wondered with disgust where he was and why he was being so difficult to contact. Bridget was starting to recover and went back to pacing back and forth in front of my vehicle like a maniac talking to a ghost. I was getting pissed, Bridget was getting pissed, and I wondered if somewhere out there, Jason was getting pissed, too. Honestly, I didn't know, and I didn't care about how he was feeling. I just wanted this night to end already so I could be rid of Bridget and Jason. I decided to go sit down inside my vehicle when two bright lights, leading the way for what appeared to be Jason's black SUV, suddenly appeared. As the lights got closer, I could tell that Jason was in the back seat as he had been earlier this evening when I picked up Bridget at the hotel. I wondered if Jason was some kind of millionaire, royalty, or something else important that made requisite of being driven around like that. I was just glad to see him, but my anger was at a high level, so all I could think of was yelling at him once he exited the vehicle. 

Stories by D: The Ride-Share Pax Has a Name

 As I opened the door to the young woman's apartment, I noticed a familiar smell and aura – neither was a good thing. I had just driven her here to this strange neighborhood. It was kind of shocking to me that I had never been to this part of town in all the 30 years since I moved here. It was actually a long drive from town, and the area gave off vibes of a spectral hamlet. The foyer was musty and cold. The farther we walked inside the young woman's home, the worse the smell became and the colder the temperature felt. As  I said, the place seemed familiar – I immediately thought that it was all worse than my house. That's when it hit me, the familiarity was because of the otherworldly smells and senses found at my own house, especially when HER would appear. I helped the young woman to the couch, which was situated toward the back of what I would guess was the living room. She started fighting me a lot more than she did along the walkway from my vehicle to her apartment's front door. She was like the proverbial "bird in a cage" trying really hard in all her rage to escape the woes of the tempest and rains. It took all I had to calm her down. I almost offered to take her home with me, but deep down, I knew that would be a stupid thing to do. She finally sat down on the couch, but she kept saying she did not want to be there; finally, she screamed that she "could not stay there." Her tone sent chills down my spine. I told her that I would not leave her alone, then I proceeded to grab my cell. I was going to call the young man who had initiated the ride-share for her. My phone was not in the back pocket of my jeans where I usually place it upon leaving the car. I was miffed that I had left it behind. I told the young woman that I had to return to the vehicle to get my cell phone to call the young man. The young woman jumped up off the couch and said, "please don't leave me alone." I agreed to let her walk back to my car with me and that we would stay there until I got through to the young man. I asked the young woman for her name and the young man's name. She quietly told me her name was Bridget. She did not share the young man's name with me. I asked her again for his name – to my surprise, she said "I don't even know him; I don't even think he's human." I kind of laughed it off because I didn't need more horror stories in my life that included the ethereal realm, and I just figured that Bridget was being smart-alecky. I thought that she was probably pissed at the young man and did not want to lend a name to his unsavory demeanor. Wrong. It turns out that she really did not know his name. She was going to explain to me why she did not believe he was human, but I cut off that attempt of an explanation dead in its tracks. I told Bridget that I was just going to call him Jason. I don't know why I chose that name. It was either because of the Jason from my favorite soap opera because I really admire his character (the role not the quality) or because of the Jason who is venerated as a saint in the Catholic tradition. Or, maybe because just a few months ago, I had read about Jason during the Hellenizing period when the name Jason was used by many as an analogon of Jesus. I found the research interesting, and it must have fascinated me to the point where I decided, at the flip of a coin, per se, to name the strange, young man Jason. The minute the moniker Jason spewed from my mouth, Bridget looked at me in a strange manner, and with an indignant tone said, "how in the hell did you figure out that things name?"

Stories by D: Ride-Share Pax From Hell

As I walked the young female to her apartment, I thought about the entity, HER, that had been haunting me for all these months. I almost tripped on the proud root of a tree, and it reminded me of my purpose for tonight’s weird ride-share. The young woman was definitely inebriated or under the influence of something. She was making me mad as she swayed side to side and pushed me away as I tried leading her by her skinny arm, trying in vain to keep her from falling. She eventually managed to fall to her knees, not just once but several times. The first time she fell, I felt so bad. But, as she continued to be incoherent and callous, my pity for her was quelled with disdain. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t want anything bad to happen to her, but I wanted this job to be over. All I could think about was how tired and sleepy I was. I was so lethargic that I knew I would fall asleep the minute I got home and into bed; too tired to be leery of HER.