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.