he's here

Oh. That was maybe a bad idea.

I stabbed him.  Several times, actually.  A couple times in the face, even.

Sorry, that made me giggle and it really shouldn't have.  That would be the panic. 

It was a miracle it didn't fight back.  Those claws would have shredded me to ribbons.  It just shrieked--one of the most horrible sounds I have ever heard it make--and it ambled off my bed and to the door.

It turned back to me.  It spoke.

It said my time was up.  I'm not even sure it used actual words, but that was how my brain interpreted it.  And then with a snarl it ran off.  Just like that.  So now I wait.

The shotgun was relatively easy to come by.  I won't go into details, I don't want the owner to get in trouble.  But I'm huddled up in a corner of my bedroom, facing the front door.  I have an end table next to me, with my laptop so I can type this.  I'm wrapped up in blankets, mostly to hide the shotgun I have aimed at the door.  I figure I have one shot, and the sick feeling at the base of my skull tells me he's on his way.  I guess you'll know if I survive, and if not...well I've made peace with things.  And if I can just convince my hands to stop shaking, I might even believe that. 

Now I wait.

I get it now, I think.

What the Rake was saying.  It was talking about life, death, the horrible things that happen in between, and what might be waiting after.  I won't go into detail, you don't need to hear the exact words.  Nor do you want to.  That's why most people can't handle what he says to them.  This isn't the kind of thing sane people are ready to deal with.  Of course it's possible I'm completely bonkers and I'm just inventing all this.  But I doubt it.  I've been dead, remember?  That kind of thing just doesn't rattle me the way it used to...before. 

Something I didn't mention after the past couple of visits: I could move, slightly.  And I wasn't afraid.  Of course, I haven't seen him since he murdered my brother and the woman he loved.  I'm sure he'll turn up.  He's been with me this long, I doubt he'd vanish on me that easily.

Did I mention I haven't really been sleeping?  Like, at all?  I know that was the point of this blog in the first place but I've been actively avoiding sleep for a while now.  Days, maybe?  It all runs together now.  

I also have another thought.  I don't think the Rake can lie.  He doesn't need to.

I've started sleeping with a knife under my pillow.

It just keeps taking from me.

My brother and his fiancee both died last night.  I'm...sort of numb right now.  But maybe I should type this all out before I break down.  Yeah, that might be best. 

The police told my family that my...sister-in-law, I guess, was driving my brother to the hospital.  They'd found a wounded animal outside their house, and it had attacked my brother.  Tore him to shreds.  So my sister-in-law was driving him to the hospital.  She'd called me to let me know what was happening.  I can still remember every noise, every detail of that conversation.  She was speeding.  She mentioned a large hairless dog had done this to my brother.  Then, screaming, she said she saw it again.  The phone cut out while I was nearly deafened by screeching tires. 

The police said she had swerved to avoid hitting...something, and drove head-on into a large oak tree.  Neither of them in their panic had bothered with seatbelts.  The steering column went right through the middle of her.  My brother bled out in the back seat. 

It was the Rake.  He took them from me.  And there are almost too many tears for me to see the screen now. 

Every night this week.

He's been here.  I've barely slept.  I've also lost quite a bit of blood. 

But I've been able to make out what he's been whispering to me.  I just need some more time to make sense of it.  To puzzle it out.  And to figure out why he would say such things.  I haven't been to work, but I have vacation time.  They can deal.

I haven't been able to find any rue.  Online, maybe, but I don't know that I want to pay that much in shipping.  Most places around here that carry it are out.  I'm beginning to doubt it would help anyway. 

He came back.

It was just like every other time, but I was aware of what was happening.  I was dead asleep, and I slowly realized I was awake, aware, and completely paralyzed.  That lasted for what seemed like an eternity, and then I heard him.  Padding slowly into my room, and then noiselessly climbing onto my bed.  It then moved onto my back, digging claws into my shoulders.  I was reminded of a cat kneading things with its paws, but with much sharper and larger talons.

Then something new happened.  Or I was aware of something that I had not been privy to previously.  It began whispering in my ear.  I don't recall any specific words, just a sense of dread for what it might say next, and a feeling of pure malice from the sounds it was making.  Part of me hoped it would just end things quickly so I wouldn't have to be so afraid of it anymore.

And then it bit me.  Right on the meat where my neck and shoulder connect.  I couldn't even work my throat to scream.  Or I was screaming like crazy and nothing was coming out.  Once it pulled away, it let out a wet gurgle of satisfaction, and then it was over.  I sat up once I could move again, and found no trace of its passing, other than my front door (which I had locked) swinging open.

The bite mark and the wounds on my shoulders hurt like hell.  I cleaned them as best I could, and after my last hospital visit, I won't be going back there under my own power.  Not if I can help it.

I hate you, internet.

Mainly because it gave me what I wanted.  I found it.  The thing that's been stalking me.  Descriptions of it, anyway.  It even has a name, wabonan was right.  I ignored him, even deleted his comments because I thought he was harassing me.  It is the Rake. 

The Rake. 

That's it, right there.  I don't know how much of this is true, but the descriptions are too accurate for my liking.  I found a handful of blogs, too.  One with some incredibly disturbing audio, one that seems to just unhinge near the end over a dog, and another that was just so surreal I couldn't even take it seriously.  This is for sure the thing that was in my room, and in the hospital, and the reason I've been waking up bloody.  I even showed my brother this stuff, he has no clue what I'm talking about.  I don't know how to convince him without coming off as a crazy person.  It's not like I can call the police about the monster under my bed, either. 

I feel incredibly hopeless, and don't even know what to do, other than sleep with a knife under my pillow. 

Monsters are real.

That is a sentence I never expected to be typing out, not seriously anyway.

The thing was in my room.  While I was awake.  I was not hallucinating, it was there.  I woke up around four in the morning, something was making noise at the foot of me bed.  The streetlights coming in the window barely illuminated it, and I was confused as to whether it was a naked person or a hairless dog.  It...whatever it was was making wet noises, and I wasn't sure if I should help it or cave its head in.

I sat up, trying to get a closer look.  That was when it turned to face the bed.  The face was vaguely human, what I could see of it.  It kept most of its face below the edge of the bed so I couldn't make it out.  But it's eyes.  My god, it's eyes, they were solid black, and wet.  Like two liquid voids simply taking up space where eyes should be. Cold seemed to radiate out from them, chilling me to my core.

And then it left.  It darted out my bedroom door, and it was gone.  I got out of bed, slowly, and crept into my living room.  The front door was ajar, and there was no other trace of the thing.

I need to find out what the fuck that was.  Just as soon as my heart stops trying to climb out of my throat.

Well, that was fun.

I need to not drink so much when I hang out with my brother.  Ugh.

Nothing weird so far this week.  Although I think I did remember something.  I apologize if this is a bit disjointed, it happened while I was in the hospital.  Fourteen years ago. 

I...I was in the hospital for self-inflicted reasons.  I'm leaving it at that, other than to say I flatlined twice while they attempted to resuscitate me.  They were about to pronounce me dead if the final attempt hadn't worked.  Which it did.  So for the briefest of moments there, I was dead.  Fortunately, I don't really remember anything between me arriving in the emergency room and waking up a day later in the ICU.  After I awoke, they moved me to a private room to recover. 

That is not the weird part.  That is avoiding a million "why were you in the hospital" comments that I don't have patience for.  

I had almost forgotten that I had a nightmare while I was in my hospital room.  One I'd been trying to forget.  It was similar to the others, but being in a hospital bed meant I was lying on my back instead of my stomach.  Light spilled in from the hallway, making everything in the room feel cold and pallid.  The sound of nurses padding around the halls was slowly and almost imperceptibly replaced with the sound of something clicking on the linoleum.  I stopped hearing anything that resembled a human, as an elongated shadow loped toward my door.  A creature loomed into view, hazy and shadowed from the now distorted lighting coming from the hall.  It was the size of a large dog, or a man crawling on all fours.  I couldn't make out any features, but it seemed hairless. 

It pawed its way over to my bed, sniffing and...letting a wet moan of some sort rumble up from wherever its throat was.  It reached my bed and put a paw on my leg.

The next thing I remember is the nurse coming in to check on me, with no monster in sight.  I asked my brother if he remembered anything like that, and he just looked at me like I was a crazy person.  I'm unsure if that means he's not being stalked, or he just doesn't WANT to remember.

Either way, I'm going to try and sleep.  Wish me luck.

Runs in the family, I guess.

I was hanging out with my brother and my sister-in-law a couple nights ago, catching up, filling them in on my fox situation, stuff like that.  Although I guess it's my lack of a fox situation now, whatever.  So we get a few drinks in, and he starts telling me about how he's been having some weird sleep issues lately, and that it's been off and on since we were kids. 

My jaw about hit the floor, once I realized he wasn't joking.  Sleep paralysis.  Nightmares.  The six million animals they own waking him up in the middle of the night, freaking out about absolutely nothing.  I mentioned the nightmares I'd been having, and we rambled on about how weird that was for a few hours before I had to get home.  I chose not to bring up the monster in my room when we were kids.  I doubt he would have remembered anyway. 

So now either we're both crazy sleep-disorder sufferers, or this thing is stalking my brother, too.  Joy. 

Rest in peace, mister fox.

I found the other fox, the male.  Spread out on my front lawn like a snow angel.  If snow angels were made of gore and grass.  It was the first thing I saw after I walked out of my front door this morning as I headed to work.  It was an early shift, so none of my neighbors were even up yet.  I called the Humane Society again after I got to work and pulled myself together enough to be coherent.  I wound up having to leave work early, as I was so rattled that I was pretty much worthless to everyone.  I got home just in time to see the HS cleanup van leaving my parking lot.  The grass was stained dark from what was left of the fox.  I hurried inside so I wouldn't have to look at it anymore. 

It's raining now, thankfully.  But what or whoever killed my foxes wanted me to see this.  At least, that's my prevailing theory, I don't have any proof.  It could have just been a horrific coincidence.  Or there really is a monster out there that's letting itself into my house in the middle of the night and slaying anything that it might view as a competing predator.  Clearly I need more sleep, as my imagination won't stop generating insane fantasy scenarios to insert some logic into a situation that has none. 

I'm going to stop for now, my neighbor's basset hound won't stop freaking out on the lawn.  And it's giving me a significant headache.  At least my brain and my heart feel the same now. 

I don't remember going to bed.

What I do remember is the sensation of something heavy on my back, raspy breath and the feeling of something sharp digging into my shoulders.  Like needles, or knives.  I was completely frozen.  Not a twitch of the ear, not a raise of the eyebrow, not even a wiggle of the fingers.  I was stuck.  And the voice, my god, the voice.  It whispered in my ear, the feeling something between the sweet nothings of a lover, and the empty platitudes of someone about to slaughter an animal.  I don't remember words, only impressions.  No idea what was said other than dread pitting my stomach and fear sweating out cold and slow over my skin.  Were my eyes open?  Or was it just so dark I was incapable of making out anything?  A faraway part of me vaguely wondered if I'd kicked off my covers.  But that part was like an ant scurrying around the feet of whatever terror gripped the rest of me.

I woke up bleeding from my shoulders, as if some wild animal had dug in and refused to let me go.  I seem to be going through bedtime shirts like kleenex.  Or bandages. 

The last time I had a nightmare that vivid, I was six.  That's well over two decades ago, and that's as close as you'll get to me giving out my age here.  It was almost identical, actually, that was what made me remember it.  I was in my room, supposedly safe in bed.  I thought I'd woken up in the middle of the night to something crouching on my back, whispering horrible things I couldn't remember in my ear.  Again, nothing distinct, just a sense that whatever owned the voice would be doing awful things, terrible things, to me and everyone I knew.  I remember crying to my mother in the morning that something had been in my room that night.  She made a show of her and my dad going through my room, of course.  To prove that no one had come in my second-story window, or was hiding under my bed, or in my closet.  My brother was four, he had no clue what was upsetting me so much.  I don't think he let go of my hand while my parents searched every square inch of my room.  One I was satisfied that my parents were right, I don't remember having that nightmare again.  Hell, I'd completely forgotten about it until...well until this bullshit started.

I'm sure the scratches are psychosomatic, there was no skin or blood under my nails.  Moving my arms hurts like a bitch right now, though.  At least I can hide this particular injury under my work clothes.  And of course this freaked me out enough that I checked my door: shut and locked, just like I'd left it after I got home. 

I think that's all for now.  I'm going to go have a moment of zen and a cigarette on my porch.

Can't sleep again...

I don't keep liquor in the house because I'm afraid I'd turn into one of those sad alcoholics that drinks at home, alone.  Even if passing out drunk would mean rest of some sort, I don't want to turn into that.  I figured since I shared my hangups about pills, I'd go ahead and share my hangups about booze.  It's only fair, right?  Right. 

My unidentified predator is making noise again.  I'm past thinking it's a person, because no way could a human being make noises like that.  What really bothers me is that when I ask my neighbors if they've heard it, none of them have.  And this isn't some shifty-eyed evade the question kind of response, I can tell they legitimately have no clue what I'm talking about.  Which means the noise is real and is only meant for me, or I've walked into hallucination country and missed the signpost somewhere along the way.  Neither option thrills me, really. 

I haven't seen the other fox around, and I stopped putting food out once his counterpart got mauled.  I hope he's okay, that he ran for the foothills or another neighborhood that lacks big scary monsters.  The fact that I'm discussing monsters as if they were a fact and not a product of my fatigued brain also doesn't alarm me as much as it should.  I'm choosing to blame the internet for no good reason. 

Now if you don't mind, I'm going to putter around my house until I either collapse from exhaustion or the noises stop. 

I should really know better...

...than to post while intoxicated.  My apologies. 

I figured the weird animal noises I've been hearing were due to whatever killed foxie sticking around looking for more food.  And possibly nibbling on her corpse, but...ew.  So a few days ago I called the Humane Society (after asking my sister-in-law what to do about the dead animal out in the field), and they sent someone out to take care of the remains while I was at work.  It made me feel a little better, as I didn't have to take the long way to work to avoid looking at her. 

As for my mystery predator, I have NO idea what the thing was making all that noise.  I went through sound clip after sound clip trying to puzzle it out.  Not a bear, not a cougar, not a raccoon, wolf, coyote, or even a badger.  And I have serious doubts about it being a dog or a cat, especially since I ruled out the bigger stuff.  Which means it's either an animal I haven't thought of yet...or it's a person.  But since I haven't heard anything since my little Wasty the Clown impression, maybe if it was a person, they've moved on.  Or got bored.  Whatever. 

I'm all scabbed over, but the cuts I had are healing nicely.  I hardly ever scar, so I'm not too worried about that.  It's nice not having my coworkers make "emo cutting" or "Edward Scissorhands" jokes at my expense anymore, that was fun.  And by fun I mean annoying. 

It was also sad that passing out drunk may have given me the best night of sleep I've had in months.  At least it felt that way once I chased away the hangover.  No nightmares, no sleep paralysis, no leaving my front door open (that one's a miracle, considering how drunk I was).  Makes me wonder how much rest I can get before my liver runs off to find a healthier host. 

lil drunk

but after the shitty couple of weeks ive had, i think i deserve some fun  right?  right

barely paid for any of my drinks, danced my ass off, and giggled all the way home from denver.  good thing tiffany was driving, otherwise i would have had to crash at someones house down there.  which would mean id have no clean clothes and had to sleep in my contacts.  ew

im gonna sleep nao, if the stupid aminals will keep quiet outside. 

Nightmare.

As mentioned in a previous post, I don't usually remember my dreams.  So that's why this one kinda stuck with me, and not in a good way.  Especially since this one was so realistic I found myself doubting it was a dream after I got up.

I was "asleep", and while in bed I slowly became aware of something else in the room with me.  I held still for what felt like hours, not wanting whatever was there to know that I was not "asleep."  I could hear noises, like an animal shuffling around at the end of my bed, with the occasional wet grunt coming from it, or a dull padding on my carpet.  I was frozen with fear, it was all I could do to keep my breathing from rasping out of control.  After what felt like days, I eventually heard the noises stop, and I sat up.  Nothing was there, and the neighborhood was eerily quiet.  And I was dripping with sweat, shaking like a teacup chihuahua. 

Like I said, part of my brain thought this might have actually happened.  So it didn't help that I noticed my front door was just hanging open when I got up this morning.  Nothing else in my house was disturbed, there was no sign that anything had actually wandered into my room.  I'm locking my door from now on, I really should have known better.  I'm partially grateful the cuts on my arms and back distracted me by aching, prompting me to change the bandages on them.  It meant I had something to focus on that wasn't a Bogeyman/rabid animal/rapist in my house.  So, hooray for that, I guess. 

We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto.

Yes, I just dropped a Wizard of Oz reference on you.  I'm weirded out, humor me.

This time of year, before it gets too cold to do so, I tend to sleep with my bedroom window open.  I'm usually lulled to sleep by the sounds of distant traffic, the occasional late night return of a neighbor, and more frequently, the foxes playing out in the field behind my condo.  But ever since the she-fox died, the poor thing, I haven't been hearing much of anything.  Until last night.

I could not begin to tell you what animal was making the noises I heard last night.  All I can tell you is that they were highly unnerving, and kept me up for at least half the night.  I've heard that coyote cries are creepy as hell, but I found videos online and lemme tell ya, this thing (very sure it was only one animal) sounded nothing like a coyote.  Not even a little.  I may have some idea of what tore up my sneaky little dinner guest now, and it sounded big.  I checked the news for reports of a bear or a cougar possibly coming down from the mountains, seeing as we're just in the foothills, but I didn't see anything.  Maybe I can talk to my brother and his wife about what could make a noise like that.  She works in a vet clinic specializing in wildlife, and my brother sometimes goes along to help her out.  They might have a better idea than me, knowing would make it seem a lot less scary.  I need to ask her what to do about my mauled little friend anyway. 

It gets better.  After I actually did get to sleep, I had another bout of horrifying sleep paralysis.  Super fun!  And by "fun" I mean "awful."  Nothing I have tried has worked, and I'm still skeptical of trying medication.  I kinda like my brain the way it is.  I've heard horror stories about what Ambien does, I can only guess what would happen if I tried pills for this.  I must have slept rough before that, too, as I apparently had kicked the covers completely off the bed by the time I was awake and able to move.  I even knocked some of the knickknacks off the windowsill above my bed.  I'd apparently flopped around enough that I cut myself on some broken glass or something.  Nothing that needed stitches, thankfully, but I'm taking down all the heavy and breakable stuff from up there just in case.  My sheets made it look like I'd been murdered.  Joy. 

Luckily, I didn't have work today.  Which means after I calmed the hell down from my awful, awful morning, I got to do...absolutely nothing.  It was grand, after I managed to bandage everything up.  I'm now going to continue this lazy-ass trend and call this post done.  Later!

Not okay.

Far from it.  I found one of my foxes...ripped apart today while I was walking home from work.  I could tell which one it was, I recognized the notched ear almost immediately.  And it wasn't traffic, I cut through a field on my way to and from work.  It looked like something much bigger got a hold of her.  Or maybe a lot of smaller things, I'm not exactly an expert.  I left my dinner a few feet away from her, I couldn't stop it from coming back up.  The smell was just too much.  Poor thing, I liked her.  She was always the one showing off the dead birds she caught, I'd always see her on my way home from a late closing shift.

I know I probably shouldn't get so worked up over an animal that could have given two shits about me, but it still bothers me.  A lot. 

I never really had pets growing up, what with being allergic to everything with fur.  So it was always fish, lizards, or the occasional bird.  Nothing I could really play with or get attached to.  So that's why the foxes accepting my dinner invitations was kind of a big deal for me.  And now one of them's gone.  I don't even know if her brother (that's me assuming) will even come back around.  Which just makes me worry that the same thing will happen to him if he does.

I'm...that's all I have for now. 

Beastmaster? Not really.

Okay, so it's been a couple of days since the foxes started patronizing my porch for their lunch.  There's two of them, a boy and a girl.  The girl has a notch taken out of her ear, like something bit her and didn't want to let go.  The boy is intact, but a little more trusting, I think.  He actually walked up and let me pet him.  I was stunned.  he ran the hell away with the girl fox immediately after, but still.  I got to pet him.  It was so awesome. I could comment on urban encroachment and animals not being afraid of people and blah blah blah.  But I don't care because I got to pet a fox, which is my favorite animal ever. 

Sleep weirdness hasn't occurred lately, unless you count the lack of sleep as weird.  Which I don't, really.  Not any more.  Although I did wake up feeling pain, and I noticed there were some scratches on my back in the mirror.  I must have accidentally brushed up against some fixtures at work, I guess.  I've done that before.  I swear that store is bloodthirsty. Or I'm abusing myself in my sleep, but even though I'm flexible enough to reach my back I doubt I'd be doing that to myself while unconscious.  At least I hope not.  They weren't deep enough to really warrant concern, and I heal pretty quick anyway. 

Makes me happy I never remember my dreams, either.  I'm sure that would make this blog a hell of a lot more entertaining, but every time I wake up I got nothing.  Maybe if I remember anything I'll post it.  Turn this into an insomnia/dream journal blog, like there aren't enough of those on the internet.

Anyway, I'm tired enough to try sleeping now.  Wish me luck!

My foxes. Mine.

Old news for me, but probably new to you, I have a family of foxes living in my neighborhood.  I don't know if they're weird because of growing up in a city, or because that's how foxes are, but they're odd.  Every time I see one, it stops, makes it a point to look at me, scamper off, and then look at me one last time.  It's like they're saying "yeah, I let you see me, I'm that awesome."  And they'd be right, I love foxes.  They ARE that awesome.

So a few weeks ago, I decided to try something.  I decided to try and leave food out for them.  They out number the raccoons who like to dig through my garbage, so I wasn't worried they wouldn't get it.  They're sneakier.  My neighbor's dog is also a chickenshit, so no way would he try anything.

Anyway, it worked.  I noticed them on my porch a few days before I started this blog.  Gobbling up every little bit of kibble I left them.  Yes, kibble.  They love it, you hush.  They could see me through my window.  I was sure they'd scamper off to do whatever it is foxes do in the middle of the night.  Play fox games and go to fox parties, I'd guess.  Okay, now I know I'm tired.

Good night!

Again? Ugh.

It happened again, the sleep paralysis/nightmare thing.  I hate it.  No grey areas, there, pure hate.  I hate my sleep interrupted, I hate feeling terrified for no good reason, I hate not being able to DO anything about this.  It sucks.  At least it happened not too long before I had to be up anyway, stupid early shift.  Although attempting to get ready for work with cold sweats is also not any fun.  I was so disoriented, I didn't realize the shirt I was sleeping in was old enough to have all these ratty holes and rips in the back of it.  Oh well. 

Medication shouldn't be an option, I think.  Not for me.  I don't want to have to pop a pill to sleep like a human being, that just bothers me.  For allergies?  Sure.  Not for sleeping.  I'm going to look into possible dietary changes, see if I need to eat more or less of something so I can make this stop.

And yes, I realize the hypocrisy of using Ny-Quil to help me conk out.  I don't like using it, but it works.  And I don't feel like an alien when I wake up.  

So far so good...

Been a couple nights, and no sleep weirdness again.  Other than a lack of it, but I'm kind of used to that by now, so whatever.  The bits of sleep I have been getting have been blissfully normal.  I'm becoming convinced that if my work schedule was anything resembling stable that my sleep schedule would follow suit.  As I am also incapable of napping, my wacky sleep patterns are more serious than they would be otherwise.  Joy. 

Stupid work.  I need out of retail, like, five years ago.  I think I might actually get some sleep tonight, though. 

So wish me good dreams I'll never remember. 

Sleep paralysis? Anyone?

I don't know if it was a nightmare, or if it was actually sleep paralysis (I've never been diagnosed with it, so that would be new and terrifying).  I just woke up from a dream I don't remember, and couldn't move.  It felt like something was pressing down on my back, and once the sensation passed, all I felt was panic.  I thought it felt like something was just sitting on me, waiting for me to say uncle.  I intensely dislike feeling no control like that.  Especially when I'm all groggy and disoriented.  Being able to finally sit up was a relief.

This hasn't ever happened to me before, so I'm a little freaked out.  Writing about it is helping calm me down, though, so there's that.  Although I've had to retype several of these sentences about four or five times now due to my hands shaking and flinging typos all over my screen.  The Ny-Quil should help me pass out and forget this whole thing in just a bit.

Can't sleep, something something will eat me.

I pretty much made this blog for the times I have trouble sleeping.  Sometimes that's by choice, as I am something of a night owl.  Sometimes, I just can't stop flopping around long enough to get any rest.  Either way, writing usually helps organize my thoughts long enough to let sleep creep up on me.  The bastard. 

Don't get me wrong, I love sleeping.  But sometimes he just up and leaves me in the middle of the night and all I have is video games and the internet to either keep me entertained or try and bore me back to bed. 


So welcome, this is nowherever.  I'll...probably be up for a bit.