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.

Stories by D: The Ride-Share

There I was, sitting in my car as usual on a Thursday night awaiting a ride-share job. I was parked in the lot of a quaint little coffee bar where I usually stopped to buy chai latte. I was passing time by gawking through social media patiently awaiting a ping for a pax (pax a.k.a. a ride-share passenger). I was ignoring the need to chase the surge as the light on the ride-share app turned red several times. I was not only trying to make the best of dead time, but I was being mindful about my dead miles. Not long after taking the first sip of the chai latte, I came across an old post about my ex. Unbeknownst to me, she had passed away early last year. I started reading the many comments garnered toward her husband and children; people were extending their condolences. Suddenly, my app pinged; a legitimate pax. I accepted the job. It wasn’t long before I started driving to the destination, still thinking of my dead ex, when my cell rang. It scared me. My nerves had been rattled for such a long time, so it didn’t take much to startle me. It sounded like a young man on the phone, and he sounded nervous. Although I had just accepted his ride-share assignment, the young man was already calling me to provide extra instructions pertaining to the female who would be my passenger. He requested that I help walk the female to her apartment, unlock the door, and make sure she got inside. I didn’t get a chance to say no before he added that he would pay an extra $150 tip if I agreed to make sure his friend made it safely inside her home. Reluctantly and stupidly, I agreed despite having always been advised never to conduct such tasks. I needed the money. My student loans for grad school were due. As I arrived in front of the luxurious hotel, I saw a well-dressed young man hugging a woman. The closer I got; I could tell that he was hugging her to hold her up. The young man knew I was their ride-share because of the orange ride-share light on the front dash. I pulled over as he waved, and I unlocked the back passenger door for them. He was having a difficult time with her. I wasn’t sure if she was inebriated or something else. Something just didn’t feel right. I wanted to take off, but something beckoned me to stay. The young man had a tough time getting the female passenger into the backseat of my vehicle. She had long, red hair that was strewn across her face making it hard for me to see her mug at first. She then flung her arms and hands about and kicked the back of my seat. I turned my head around again and caught a glimpse of her for the first time as she pushed the hair away from her face. She was young just like the guy who was aimlessly trying to get her to stay seated. He finally got the seatbelt to click, and he backed away from the car and shut the door. He walked around to my side of the car and motioned for me to roll down the window. I cautiously obliged, but I only let the window down about an inch. He was handsome in spite of the sweat streaming down his forehead and the deep red hue all over his face, which was most likely from struggling with the young woman to get her into my car – or so I told myself. I wouldn’t allow myself to think that something else more tawdry or perilous had taken part that night to make the young man appear so disheveled and nervous. I kept reminding myself that I needed the money. Not just to pay off my student loans quicker, but so I could afford a trip to Europe. As much as I loved my beautiful home, I felt the need to get away; somewhere across the pond, per se. 

For the past several months, I had been dealing with some entity, HER, in my house. I was in one of my sardonic moods when I first named the entity HER. I just kept the moniker because, one, it helped me make light of the haunting situation, and two, what else could I call this thing from a preternatural realm. All I knew was that HER was causing all kinds of disturbances and havoc. Since HER made itself known to me, I haven’t been able to sleep properly. I’ve been living, if you want to call it living, for the last several months with little sleep and feeling languid. I have turned into a homebody, per se, except that I don’t feel safe at home because of HER. I guess my introverted ways and preference of spending more time in my car, as opposed to my house, would deem me an autobody. LOL. Yeah, I can still joke. I have to find ways to laugh or this entity and the twisted, frightening emotions it has caused will be the death of me. Maybe not literally death, but I fear to even give any validation to that idea. In previous posts, I alluded to the entity’s "first appearance" as the day it made itself physically known to me; however, deep down – within the quivering guts inside of me, I have a feeling that HER has been watching me for months, perhaps longer, before that fateful night so long ago when HER revealed itself in a manner too nefarious to explain. Not yet anyway.

Stories by D: The Door

It seems everytime I enter that room, the temperature drops within a few minutes. Moreover, the door to the room makes such a piercing sound upon opening it. It's a pure cacophony of evil! I've used lubricants and grease sprays on the hinges, but the creeking continues. And, it's not just a quick squeak; it's lingering - kind of like a ship's swelling horn in a fog-thickened body of water trying to warn other barges of its presence. The door can swing all the way open, yet the creepy squeaking sound continues for what often seems like forever. It's so bizarre.

By the way, this is the room I've mentioned before where I used to keep an altar. Back when I was a practicing catholic, I created an altar, but I was never sure why I did that. Deep inside, I think I was trying to convince myself that I was a believer. Afterall, to me, belief in the holy trinity and the church meant that my Mom, while she was still alive, approved of me. Plus, being a believer meant having the approval of my middle sister whose faith and catholic followings were as stringent and steadfast as my Mom's. Maybe this entity was trying to provoke me into owning up to the dogmatic approach I had taken toward trying to convince us three (another kind of trinity) that I was a true Christian. Maybe the entity was  taking on the role of judge and jury toward me. Perhaps it was inciting fear and insecurity in me because I was a fake believer. The entity probably doesn't give a damn about religious morals, but it probably detests people who fail at being honest and forthright, in other words, it hates fakers. 

On a side note, while I'm writing about the room and HER, I must say, I really feel its disgust of me whenever the temperature drops so suddenly - in this room especially. It seems this room, the place that once provided shelter to the fake altar, is the very room where HER wants to do its greatest harm to me. 

Anyway, the room now has a small couch in lieu of where the altar stood in the east corner. I've tried lounging on the couch a few times, but I can't help but feel that there's something evil behind it - just waiting to grab at me. This one time, I was so tired after cleaning out the room that I laid down on the couch. I woke up for a second to reposition myself with my face toward the back cushions. I swung my arm up and over the back of the couch, and I felt something cold and thorny grab my hand. I got up and promptly headed for the door-from-hell, but it was closed. I remember purposely propping it open with a large wooden crate. But, the entity must have pushed the crate away knowing I'd have to open the spine-chilling door and how much I hated to hear the door's perpetual noise of hell. 

Stories by D: HER Has Invited Her Friends

The entity I have come to refer to as HER has made HER presence known once again. How befitting that HER picked today, Halloween, of all days to manifest into a more visible form. Quite eerily HER now roams around in the form of an oval cloud; a murky, cloudy form that wanders freely in our home as if it had been invited. Unlike the canon of vampire legends, which dictate that a vampire can only enter a person’s home if it is invited, this unworldly creature has made “itself” at home without an invitation. HER is much too comfortable in this house. HER proceeded to remind me that when I feel an unnerving presence or is spooked, to remember it is them. The bitch entity has even resorted to talking to me. Not verbally, but HER creeps up into my head and my thoughts. HER has basked in my mind and spoken some eerie things. To add salt to the ole proverbial wound, HER has brought along "friends" to help ensure I'm miles away from lucid. Her told me that when I get so scared to the point where I get chills and the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up, to acknowledge that it's HER! In HER own special way, HER went on to explain that there are differences between ghosts and demons. The explanation seemed all too surreal to me. I tried to pinch myself in order to make sure I was actually awake while listening to HER explanation. I was freaked out and the hairs on the back of my neck felt like they wanted to split in two. I held my breath and started to count hoping I would soon wake up, and this would all be a dream (nightmare). But, I was not that fortunate, or so I thought. I actually managed to find my way out of the nightmare. It was early morning when I awoke. It was the day that began one of my favorite holidays of the year: Samhain. I was still trying to stay off the foot I stupidly sprained yesterday. I was not completely bed-ridden although my family would have preferred I was. I made a little study area in my bedroom next to my queen-sized bed, so I could have all my study gear with me. I had a lot of homework for grad school and exams for which to study. I had stopped taking the pain medication because it made me too drowsy and loopy. I needed to be fully cognizant for various reasons; mostly, so I could finish a major research project. I must have still had side-effects from the meds because I found myself extremely tired to the point of putting aside my books and papers to rest. I had intended to just shut my eyes for a little while, but little did I know I would fall into another disconcerting episode with HER waiting for me on the other side; not a reverie but another paranormal visit from my friend. I felt like I was going to gag; I could not breathe. Something was burning in the pit of my belly. I tried to reach out for my bottle of water, but each time I stretched out my arm, the bottle seemed to drift farther and farther away. I somehow managed to sit up in bed, and after that, I couldn’t move. I could just sense HER presence. My cat, Caty, was lying down next to me as she always does when I am not feeling well. The look on my Caty's face was almost alarming in itself, but she settled down, which helped to quell my nerves a little. But moments later, Caty seemed alarmed as she stood up, arched her back, and let out a loud meow in the direction of the guest room where I once had an altar. It was as if my Caty was trying to ward off something sinister. The murky, cloudy form made itself known and moved to the door that leads to the long hallway; it was becoming more and more noticeable. It was getting closer. My Caty sounded out another horrible screech; one I had never before heard from her. I was beginning to feel more ungodly, chilling sensations from every part of my being. The form stopped a few feet away from me, and HER began to speak to me again. HER said that “they” were getting closer, and I should fear “them” more than I feared HER. HER reminded me of the explanation it had provided to me earlier in the morning about ghosts and demons. HER said it had been a human before it died tragically, but “the other creatures,” they had never been human; “they” had always been demons and that made “them” more menacing and dangerous to humans. HER never told me not to fear HER. Even though I was beginning to somewhat adjust to HER visits, something deep inside led me to believe that I should never drop my guard around HER.  Somehow I knew that if I dropped my guard, I would regret it. But, what was the purpose for HER visits, I could only wonder. 

I fell asleep again whilst Samhain passed us by for another year. The next day, I found myself still lying in bed with my ever-faithful Caty next to me. She was looking up at me with her paws on my arm as if she had been protecting me. I have no doubt that is what she was doing. I found the pillows I had propped behind my head and back laden with my own sweat. I managed to get up and shower. I hobbled back into my room to change the bed clothes. I was sure something was still in the room watching me. It was just a strange feeling I had. Its intentions remained unbeknownst to me. All I knew is I was still tired. After all the sleep I had taken in for the past two days, I was still fatigued. My inner core was beginning to get cold and frigid. I almost went back into the dining room to turn the thermometer to the heat setting, but I refrained. I climbed back into my cozy bed. I grabbed my laptop and proceeded to write down the previous day's events as they happened. My injury is becoming jarring, so I take another pain med. A few minutes later, I feel myself getting extremely sleepy. I'm journaling, but the fatigue is too much. I'm falling asleep, and the supernatural form is slowly making itself known once more . . . this time, HER is at the foot of my bed. My faith is a bit shaken, but I remember the religious and spiritual teachings that my late Mom taught me, to ward off any presence of evil. As I meditate, I find myself able to overpower the terror I felt earlier. I would be lying if I said I was not still scared. But, I'm going to give in to my sleep now and allow myself to rest, hopefully for a longer stretch of time. My mind and body are so tired. My loyal cat is once again at my side. I am determined to let the events unfold as they must. However, the cloudy form is now right next to me.

Stories by D: HER 3 A.M. Visits

I know HER came looking for me again last night. The time of 3 a.m. is embedded in HER intent to approach me for whatever reasons HER has for making contact with me. I was not awake this time, at the ghostly and disturbing hour of 3 a.m., which has come to be the time HER haunts me of late. For reasons I cannot mention, I was in a deep slumber last night at 3 a.m. I am certain I was in the complete and oblivious state of REM. The state of sleep that dictates that the mind not be allowed to be disturbed by anyone or anything. The same REM I studied long and hard in various psychology courses I have taken. REM was my friend last night, but it was also the enemy to this entity, HER. I am sure HER is upset that I was not awake and awaiting HER visit at 3 a.m. As a matter of fact, I have this eerie feeling HER may have entered my home long ago without the permission needed to enter a home - according to horror cannon. I believe HER figured out a way to enter my abode without permission or invitation because when I awoke at 5 a.m., I felt HER presence, and I saw tangible evidence of HER visit. 

It was as if HER had impudently made its way into this house I love so much. That love I feel for my home is mostly because of the peace it has always provided me. Maybe HER likes the peace of the home as well. Maybe it is the house, and not me, that provides HER the comfort which makes HER linger. But, maybe it is just me that HER is drawn to, and because of my deep sleep during 3 a.m., HER decided to wait for me to awake, then made itself obviously discernable. 

Of all this, I am UNCERTAIN. All I know right now, as I write, is that the disturbing markings I found on the ceramic tile in the kitchen were not mine nor were they of anyone else in the home; my family does not make footprints like that, and I am 100% confident that my cool, loyal cat for sure does not leave prints such as these. Prints that look like that of an animal I have never known or read about. If you could only see them, your hair would probably immediately turn white from the fright the markings induced. As scary as it has been, I now consider HER visits a challenge. HER broke the rules I set forth long ago; the same rules stipulated by geniuses of lore and scripture long before I ever came to be.

Stories by D: The Veracity of HER

I'm not really sure why this entity, HER, thought it was a good idea to just move into my home and scare the crap out of me at her leisure. Sometimes I do get scared but other times, she just pisses me off. I guess it's not really HER that is making me mad and upset more than it is me who is mad at myself for succumbing to such nonsense. Sometimes the feeling I get that HER is lurking makes me want to jump up and run out of my house. But, most times, I am just too tired to lend HER the fuel of fright that she craves. Instead, I ignore the chills that tag the skin on my arms. I refocus my startled emotions toward thoughts that are serene. I instead try to think about my loved ones when HER enters a room and makes the space drop several degrees of cold. I adore my family, and it’s as if HER knows my propensity to keep guard and watch over my loved ones, so she manages to fuck with my thoughts and makes me see dreadful things happening to the people I love. HER is only known to me now and to these very pages where I journal HER activity. Sometimes I challenge HER existence and try to pass it down as a dream, more like a nightmare, but HER knows my thoughts, and HER will do something even more sinister to remind me of HER veracity. My own true veracity of the story of HER remains a mystery and is only acknowledged by yours truly. I fear to bring anyone else into this obscure and otherworldly predicament.