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.