Midday sunshine streamed down as I crossed into Colorado, the SU
v's engine humming like a hive of distant bees.
I'd been on the road since California, the hours blending
into one another, stealing away the sharp edges of my alertness.
Every swig of caffeine or sugar from the snacks sprawled on the
passenger seat felt like throwing pebbles at the looming
wall of exhaustion. Urea, that was the name of the
town I passed. The radio's voice turned into
static and cold air blasted from the vents, prickling my skin,
trying in vain to keep me awake. I'll stop at the next motel, I
promised myself, eager for a few hours of sleep, but the exit I
chose seemed to lead nowhere. No gas stations, motels, or neon
fast food signs. Just a winding Rd. through the
heart of the mountains. As I rubbed my tired eyes, the
silhouette of a man appeared out of nowhere.
There was no time to react or swerve on this tight mountain
Rd. The impact is 45 mph.
I felt my heart race as the man's body hit the front of my
car, smashed against the windshield, and then crumpled
over the hood, leaving a sickening smear before tumbling
onto the road. Panic took over as I skidded to
a stop in the rearview mirror. I saw him lying there, his skin
pale as if all the blood had been drained.
Questions fired in my mind. Should I call the police?
Should I flee? I approached him.
His skin bore brutal gashes that seemed more like deliberate
carvings than injuries from the accident.
They bled profusely, crisscrossing his body entirely.
His limbs were at unnatural angles, defying human anatomy,
And then, in a sight I will never forget, he began to move.
Bones cracked and snapped. His limbs contorted as he began
to rise. I watched in horror.
His entire body seemed to twist and reshape his head with an
unhinged jaw and eyes open wide, he snapped towards me.
Adrenaline spurred my feet back to the car.
The engine roared to life, tires screeching as I tore away from
the horror I had encountered. Only when I looked in my rear
view mirror did I realize this was no man.
It wasn't anything remotely human.
It just looked like one. This thing, or whatever the hell
it was, started chasing after my car, its body grotesque and fast
moving in a manner no human ever should.
Every nerve screamed at me to go faster.
The mile slowly stretched between us and it faded into the
distance, filled with pure terror.
That encounter course through my veins To Indiana.
Sleep, it seemed, would have to wait for another time.
I floored it down the road until I saw a sign welcoming me into
Indiana. When I reached the city, it was
only then that I felt a sliver of safety for the first time in
hours. Being amidst other cars and
seeing the lights from buildings was without a doubt the best
feeling I had ever felt. It's strange how much you come
to appreciate life when your very existence is threatened.
This encounter made me value my life much more, yet it also
lessened my desire to travel. I can't even begin to imagine
what that thing might have been. My only hope is that any person
venturing down that road steers clear of it.
Luck might not favor them as it did me.
If ever you spot a figure something resembling a man on
that stretch, press on the accelerator and don't look back.
Suddenly we got a call from a nearby city police station.
Our uncle, who was taking care of me and my sister while our
parents were away, answered the phone.
We were confused about why our uncle was crying until we
learned the news. Our parents were found dead over
11 miles away from where they started hiking three days ago.
I was horrified. I felt as if my world had just
splintered into nothing and my sister just fell to the floor
while I just sat there, blank face and warm tears running down
my cheeks. The sheriff was obligated to ask
us where we wanted the funeral and other questions.
Thankfully, my uncle pulled himself together and scheduled
his brother and sisterinlaw's funeral.
The weeks flew by as the weekend was over and I was left in a
well of grief, still processing all that had recently happened.
Eventually we got another call telling us that another piece of
evidence had been found. We initially dismissed it until
they told us that it belonged to our parents as they told us, the
more intrigued we were until my uncle decided to drive us all
down there. After all, all of us at least
wanted to see their faces one more time since mysteriously the
funeral was closed. Casket.
Once we got there, we waited in the waiting room until a man
guided us in. They said they had not yet
reviewed the footage and that when they found it, it was
covered in blood and still recording even though it was
damaged. Finally we got to a room where
they were ready to play the footage and we all sat before
the man who let us in started the video.
At first it was just my parents walking.
We Fast forward more, walking some fishing, picking up sticks
and skipping rocks. I was happy to see my parents
again, even if it was just a recording.
We watched the following video. My parents were walking, but
looked tired and anxious. Eventually, while they were
resting, my mother broke the silence.
Did you hear any of that last night?
My father responded. Yeah, it sounded so odd, like it
was directly in my ear, but also near a mile away.
She gave him an agreeing nod. Eventually they kept walking,
not breaking the silence until they camped.
Do you think it will happen again?
My mother asked. My father responded.
It had to have been just some animal.
No creature would follow us that far just to make some noises and
not do anything to us. But what if it my mother was cut
off? Just trust me, we'll leave
tomorrow and forget any of this happened.
My father tried to reassure her. It worked, and they went to bed.
On the third day, though, something was off.
My mother no longer had her bright energy accompanying her,
and my father seemed to suffer from sleep deprivation.
It felt as though my parents were just husks of their former
selves, and more ominous than that.
There was a strange faint background noise constantly
playing for the first three hours.
Then it just stopped. My parents looked around and
seemed to sigh and become way more relaxed, and then they
stopped for a food break at a slight creak.
It seemed reasonable until that noise started back up and louder
than before. This caused notable dread in my
parents as the fear in their eyes was visible.
They both ran away, leaving all their food behind as the noise
got louder. Eventually my mother tripped and
her bone chilling screams could be heard in the background as
the noise seemed to stop with her.
After two hours of nonstop running, my father ended up in
our backyard. I heard him sobbing
uncontrollably. He was a mess just by the audio.
He started to get it together and approach our house until the
light around him seemed to wash away like fresh paint reacting
to water. We sat there watching this
overwhelming silence and darkness until a faint sound
broke it and it got louder and louder until it felt like my
eardrums were about to pop. My father appeared back in the
woods but was not alone. As he turned a part of the
screen seemed to warp and glitch out.
My father looked at it and started screaming as the thing
approached him. In the blink of an eye my father
seemed to be crying as something was inserted into his mouth, and
then it stopped. When his bone snapping was
heard, the GoPro fell onto the ground and it filmed my father
floating over the glitching part of the screen.
Then both seemed to phase out of focus and into nothingness.
I was shocked by what I saw and everyone else in the room.
My sister was pale and my uncle looked utterly petrified.
Finally the police escorted us out.
The drive home was silent, and we all seemed not to dare to
speak a word, because in the silence we all heard it.
The faint sound of the thing that killed my parents slowly
approaching during my college years, a night of boredom and
relentless curiosity, we were led to an unforgettable
adventure. With my friends Paul and Simon.
Restless and seeking an escape from the mundane, we dove into
the depths of the Internet, scouring for a thrilling
escapade to ward off our boredom.
Little did we know, however, that this exploration into the
unknown would take us to the very boundaries of our
imagination, blurring the line between reality and the
supernatural As we delve deep into the cesspool of online
legends and spooky tales, our restless souls were enticed by
the lore surrounding an abandoned hospital nearby.
Whispers of its haunted reputation reached our ears,
luring us with the promise of the unknown.
With our curiosity peaked and an insatiable desire to escape the
monotony of life, we set our sights on that forsaken
building. Determined to uncover its
secrets. The tales painted a vivid
picture of a place forgotten by time, its walls echoing with
whispers of the past. Shrouded in darkness, it stood
as a testament to resilience and decay, beckoning adventurous
souls to push the boundaries of their reality.
Rumors of apparitions and strange occurrences only fueled
our anticipation, blurring the line between skepticism and
belief. Filled with a potent mix of
excitement and fear, we embarked on our journey that fateful
night. The moon cast an ethereal glow
upon our path as we approach the crumbling structure.
It's warped windows and crumbling facade a testament to
the passage of time. A bitter breeze rustled through
the overgrown foliage surrounding the building, adding
an eerie soundtrack to our expedition.
As we neared the entrance, the aura of the forsaken hospital
enveloped us, sending shivers down our spines.
The air felt heavy, charged with a palpable sense of
anticipation. Our flashlights pierced the
darkness, their beams cutting through the thick veil of night,
revealing glimpses of the world we would soon be leaving.
The atmosphere instantly weighed upon us as we cautiously entered
the abandoned hospital. The worn linoleum floors creaked
beneath our feet, echoing. Through the lonely halls, the
air was stagnant, heavy with the scent of decay and the lingering
memories of a bygone era. Our flashlights pierced the
suffocating darkness, revealing the remnants of a once bustling
medical facility, now lost to time.
Each room held its secrets, a tapestry of forgotten stories
etched into the peeling wallpaper and broken windows.
With a mix of trepidation and curiosity, we ventured forth,
mindful of the ghost that whispered in the silence,
driving us deeper into the mysteries of the haunting
hospital. With trepidation, we moved from
room to room, cautiously examining the remnants of the
hospital's past. Each door we opened revealed A
bygone era, frozen in time. Some rooms were filled with
stacks of long forgotten medical equipment covered in dust.
Others held patient beds, their disheveled sheets hinting at the
hasty departures of those who once sought solace Within these
walls, the dim beams of our flashlights bathed each room in
an eerie glow, casting long shadows that danced upon peeling
wallpaper and cracked ceilings. Every step further into the
hospital yielded a sense of fascination and apprehension as
we piece together the haunting fragments of its history.
Occasionally, we stumbled upon remnants of the lives that had
once filled these spaces. Old photographs, faded and
weathered, provided a glimpse into the past.
Smiling doctors and nurses, patients in various stages of
recovery, all captured in moments that now felt trapped
within the walls. The black and white images, now
tinged with a haunting nostalgia, served as a reminder
of the lives in these now desolate rooms.
As we continued our exploration, we discovered a door, slightly
ajar that led to a staircase descending into the depths of
the hospital. The musty scent that wafted from
below only intensified our curiosity, drawing us further
into the enigmatic unknown. With shared glances filled with
both hesitation and determination, we decided to
venture into the uncharted basement territory, uncertain of
what awaited us. But one thing was clear.
We were stepping into a realm where darkness intertwined with
the past, and where answers, perhaps even more questions,
awaited. As we descended into the murky
depths of the hospital's basement, the air grew colder,
dampness clinging to our skin with each step.
The narrow stairway seemed to go on forever, leading us further
away from the safety of the upper floors.
Our flashlights struggled to penetrate the thick darkness,
casting eerie shadows that danced along the damp walls.
Unease settled in the pit of our stomachs, but curiosity pushed
us onward. The basement was like a
labyrinth of forgotten secrets, with corridors branching off in
various directions. The faint sound of dripping
water echoed through the passageways, adding to the sense
of foreboding that enveloped us. A sudden, piercing scream
shattered the silence. As we cautiously explored the
underground maze, panic surged through us like a lightning
bolt, our fight or flight instincts kicking into
OverDrive. Without a second thought, we
turned and sprinted back towards the stairway, our hearts
pounding in our chests. The darkness seemed to close
around us, our footsteps echoing with a frantic urgency as we
desperately sought an exit. Fear clenched our throats,
making breathing difficult, but the adrenaline propelled us
forward, fueled by the dire need to escape this nightmarish
hospital. We raced through the narrow
hallways and the thought of the unknown horror awaited us,
propelling us faster and faster. The cold, damp air whipped
against our faces as we strained to find any sign of an open door
or a glimmer of light leading us to safety as the inhumanly fast
footsteps grew louder, a chill course through our veins
tingling with a mix of fear and anticipation.
We glanced at each other wide eyed, the weight of our decision
to explore this abandoned hospital now pressing heavily
upon us. The echo of the haunting whale
still lingered in the air, intensifying the sense of
impending doom. Heartbeats thundered as we
hurriedly scurried around, searching for a hiding place or
an escape route. The flickering light from our
flashlights cast eerie shadows on the peeling wallpaper,
exaggerating the twisted figures that seemed to dance along the
walls. The air itself felt charged,
crackling with an otherworldly energy.
In this moment of desperation, our gaze fell upon a nearby
door, partially open. With a shared understanding, we
silently approached it, hoping it would offer refuge from the
approaching unknown. As we push the door open and
stepped inside, relief washed over us.
It was a small office, cluttered with disorganized paperwork and
dusty furniture, the scent of old books mingled with the musty
air. We quietly shut the door behind
us, attempting to muffle any sounds that might betray our
presence. As we huddled together, our
hearts still pounding in our chests, we strained to listen
for any sign of the inhuman pursuer.
The footsteps had reached, a crescendo echoing through the
corridors outside. There was a disturbing urgency
to their rhythm, as if a relentless craving drove the
entity behind them. Suddenly the loud footsteps
abruptly stopped, replaced by an eerie silence that was almost
unbearable, our breaths caught in our throats, apprehensive of
what might come next. Every whispered creak and rustle
of paper echoed like cannon fire in the stillness of the office,
making our nerves stand on end. Time slipped away as we held our
breath, waiting in the suffocating darkness.
It felt like an eternity, the silence broken only by our
hearts thundering in our ears. Every creak of the floorboards,
every distant whisper of the wind, sent shivers down our
spines, amplifying the tension that gripped us.
Minutes turned into hours, or so it seemed, as we remained
hidden, hoping that our pursuer would lose interest or move on
to another part of the hospital. The anxiety and anticipation
threatened to overwhelm us, but we clung to the flickering flame
of hope lingering at the edges of our consciousness.
Suddenly the silence was shattered once more.
It started as a distant shuffle, growing steadily louder with
each passing moment. Heavy footsteps reverberated
through the tightly packed space, the force of each step
sending vibrations through the room, our hearts caught in our
throats as we exchanged panicked glances.
With bated breath we waited, our bodies and minds on high alert.
The footsteps paused just outside the office, and in that
agonizing moment, time seemed suspended.
The sound of our breathing seemed deafening, threatening to
give us away. Then, as if by a miracle, the
footsteps receded, growing fainter and fainter until they
eventually faded into the distance.
A sigh of relief escaped our lips, though we knew our ordeal
was far from. Over, I cautiously exited the
office, leaving our hiding spot, followed by Paul and Simon.
The air was thick with tension as we moved, our footsteps
muffled by the carpeted floor. Just as we began to believe that
we had successfully evaded whatever danger lurked in the
building, the sudden creak of a floorboard pierced through the
silence. Panic gripped us as the sound
echoed through the hallways, quickly followed by a Symphony
of approaching footsteps. Without hesitation, our survival
instincts kicked in and we broke into a Sprint once more,
adrenaline coursing through our veins, every corner turned,
every door pushed open, propelled us closer to our only
chance of escape. Fear fueled our movements,
causing us to run faster than we ever thought possible, desperate
to outrun the haunting echoes behind us.
The abandoned hospital echoed with the haunting sound of
pounding footsteps as we race through the dimly lit hallways,
our pursuer not far behind. Fear gripped our hearts, urging
us to find an exit before the looming threat caught up.
Adrenaline surged through my veins, propelling me forward.
Each hallway seemed like a maze, with doors leading to dead ends
and corridors stretching endlessly.
The sense of panic threatened to consume me, but I fought to keep
my focus, searching desperately for any sign of an escape route.
We sprinted through the corridors, our breath ragged and
bodies fueled by sheer determination.
With every door we encountered, we anxiously checked for any
glimmer of hope amidst the chaos and decay.
The air inside the hospital weighed heavy with the scent of
decay, intensifying the growing dread that pressed upon us.
And then, as if the universe granted us a reprieve, A dimly
lit sign caught my eye. An arrow pointed toward the
direction of an emergency exit, beckoning with a faint glimmer
of hope. Hope surged through our veins,
fueling our determination to escape the clutches of this
forsaken place. With a renewed sense of purpose,
I rallied my friends, leading them toward the promising beacon
of escape. Pushing harder and running
faster, we navigated the treacherous hallways, passing
broken stretchers and shattered windows as if each step brought
us closer to salvation. Our pursuers, distant screams,
and thunderous footsteps pushed us onward, increasing the tempo
of our desperate escape. The flickering lights above seem
to mirror the pounding of our hearts, fueling our drive to
break free from the grips of impending doom.
As we race towards the exit, our footsteps pounding against the
cold linoleum floor, my heart raced with the adrenaline
coursing through my veins. Every breath burned in my chest
as I pushed my body to its limits, running as hard as
possible, driven by a primal survival instinct.
Fear gripped me, urging me to put as much distance as possible
between myself and the otherworldly creature that
pursued us. As I glanced back, my trembling
hand still tightly clutching my flashlight, I saw the creature
illuminated in its eerie glow. My heart skipped a beat and a
shiver of terror coursed down my spine.
The sight before me etched A haunting image into my memory,
an idea I knew would haunt my dreams for years.
The creature appeared as a twisted apparition from a dark
and dreadful nightmare. It resembled a woman, but her
form was broken and bent, her body contorted in unnatural
angles that defied logic and reason.
Her once beautiful features were marred by a grotesque
distortion, her pale, translucent skin appearing
drained of life. Those vacant, glassy eyes stared
ahead, devoid of humanity or recognition, giving me the eerie
sensation of being watched by something far beyond
comprehension. Despite the sight that chilled
me to my core, I refused to let fear consume me entirely.
With every cell of my body screaming for me to stop, I
pushed myself even harder, determined to outrun this
monstrosity. The thrum of adrenaline pulsed
through my veins, numbing the pain in my legs as I raced
forward, my mind focused on the singular goal of survival in an
explosion of sheer willpower. We burst through the door, our
bodies propelled into the open air.
Outside, the cool breeze kissed our sweat drenched skin, starkly
contrasting the hospital's oppressive atmosphere.
For a brief moment, the world seemed to hold its breath as we
stood in the aftermath of our escape.
As we caught our breath, relief and disbelief settled upon us.
Silence enveloped our surroundings, broken only by the
distant howling wind and the stark realization that we had
evaded the clutches of the otherworldly creature.
A sense of awe washed over me as I gazed back at the abandoned
hospital, its windows shattered and its walls peeling, A
testament to the dark secrets that would remain forever locked
within its decaying confines. As we huddled together, our
bodies trembling with exhaustion and relief, we knew that we had
narrowly escaped the clutches of the abandoned hospital.
The sense of camaraderie and shared survival transformed our
ordeal into something that bonded us on a deeper level.
We may have been basked in darkness, but the light of our
resilience, unity and a healthy dose of luck had guided us
towards a new dawn. The hospital hallways seemed to
stretch endlessly, the never ending labyrinth threatening to
consume us. But we would not surrender.
We would not allow ourselves to be lost within those forsaken
walls. With sheer determination and the
strength of our collective spirit, we pushed forward, the
pursuit behind us fading into the background as we race toward
the light of the exit, longing for the embrace of safety and
the promise of a new day. Until the following weekend,
that is. The last golden glimmers of the
sun painted the quiet streets of our small town.
A soft evening breeze tousled my hair as I latched the leash onto
Max's collar. My trusty golden retriever
wagged his tail, eager to stretch his legs after a day
indoors. We both loved our evening
strolls. They were our routine, our
moment of peace. With every step, the comforting
tap of Max's nails on the pavement became rhythmic.
But today, something felt different.
I couldn't place it, but the stillness of the evening felt
more pronounced, more pronounced than usual.
We approached our usual route past the park, and the tall
trees cast lengthy twisted shadows across the lawn, but my
gaze was instantly drawn away from nature's beauty.
When I spotted him, a solitary figure sitting on the Parks
weathered bench, he was oddly out of place.
He seemed like an ink blot on a pristine page, dressed head to
toe in black in a town where folks preferred Plaid and denim.
But it wasn't his attire that caught my attention, it was how
he stared. He looked right at me,
unblinking with an intensity that made my skin crawl.
It was as if those eyes were trying to communicate a message
I wasn't sure I wanted to understand.
Max picked up on my unease, his ears pinning back, he let out a
soft whimper, pulling slightly on the leash.
Easy, boy, I whispered, patting his head while trying to
maintain a casual pace. Every instinct screamed at me to
escape the park and that man. And when I dare to glance back,
my heart nearly stopped. The man had risen from the
bench, now standing. His silhouette was even more
imposing, his gaze continuing to track me like a scene out of one
of those thriller novels I'd occasionally pick up.
I felt the weight of his eyes watching, assessing.
I felt the urge to run, but didn't want to draw more
attention than necessary. So I walked faster, clutching
Max's leash tighter, praying that I was overthinking this,
that it was just another townsperson I hadn't met yet,
perhaps lost in thought and looking my way coincidentally.
But as the gravel crunched behind me in a consistent
rhythm, it became crystal clear he was following me.
Max growled, a low rumble that seemed out of place for such a
friendly dog. It's all right, Max, I murmured,
though it was more for my sake than his.
My home was just a few blocks away.
If we kept our pace, we'd be safely inside in no time.
Turning the corner onto my street, the familiar sight of my
quaint little house appeared. The porch light was on, casting
a warm glow on the wooden steps. Promising safety, I risked
another glance back and while I couldn't make out the man
clearly in the dimming light, the absence of his shadow was
both a relief and a mystery. Once inside, I locked the door
and sank to the floor, Max nuzzling my face, Peeking
through the blinds. I exhaled, shaky when I saw the
man's figure receding in the opposite direction.
For a moment I thought the ordeal was over, but deep down a
nagging feeling told me this was just the beginning.
I had always taken comfort in the familiar surroundings of my
bedroom. The pastel walls adorned with
old family photos and the quilted blanket hand sewn by my
grandmother had always been a beacon of solace, but that night
the room felt alien, tainted by the day's unsettling events.
Max was restless, pacing by the window, occasionally letting out
a low growl. I tried immersing myself in a
book, but every word blurred together, the eerie image of the
man in black plaguing my every thought.
As the clock ticked on, my eyelids grew heavier, coaxing me
into an uneasy sleep. Just when the pull of dreams
overshadowed reality, a soft, rhythmic tapping Jarred me
awake. The sound was faint, almost like
the fluttering wings of a moth against a light.
I strained my ears, hoping to dismiss it as just a figment of
my heightened paranoia. However, the tapping grew
louder, more insistent. Each tap seemed calculated,
designed to resonate within the silent confines of my room.
I glanced at Max, who was already fixated on the window,
his fur bristling. I hesitated.
The logical part of me wanted to brush it off as a stray branch
or some innocent creature of the night, but every nerve in my
body buzzed with tension, sensing something more sinister.
Drawing a deep breath, I summoned the courage to approach
the window. As I neared, the tapping paused,
replaced by an oppressive silence.
Taking a steadying breath, I gripped the curtain's edge and
slowly peeled it back. And there he was.
The man from the park, his features now hidden behind a ski
mask, stood mere inches away from me, separated only by the
thin pane of glass. The intensity in his eyes
mirrored that of our earlier encounter, but this time there
was something else. Anticipation.
I stumbled back, a scream trapped in my throat as Max
barked furiously. The man seemed to relish in my
terror for a split second before quickly retreating, leaving
behind only the chilling trace of his presence.
In a whirlwind of fear and adrenaline, I dashed to my
parents room, my voice a frenzied mix of words as I
recounted what had just transpired.
Their faces turned ashen, and within minutes the familiar ring
of the police hotline echoed in the room.
As we waited, we discovered the ladder the man had used, propped
against the house, providing access to my window.
The implications made my stomach churn.
A chill ran down my spine when we spotted the abandoned crowbar
on the ground below, its purpose hauntingly evident when the
police arrived, their flashing blue and red lights cutting
through the night's darkness. They took in the scene with
grave expressions. Despite their best efforts to
reassure us, it was evident this man hadn't simply been stalking
me. He had plans to get inside the
night dragged on with questions, photographs and statements.
The house, once a symbol of warmth and memories, now bore
the shadow of the unknown threat.
Sleep eluded me as my mind wrestled with a single burning
question. Why?
Why me? Why my home?
What had drawn this man, this predator, into my life?
Morning light did little to dispel the shadows that seem to
have permanently lodged in our home.
Sleep had been fleeting with the haunting image of the masked man
outside my window visiting me and every nightmare.
The town was abuzz with, rumors whispered speculations passing
from one mouth to another, each more terrifying than the last.
Police patrols had increased their presence, a constant
reminder of the threat lurking just beyond our sight.
They comb through every alley, every thicket, searching for any
sign of the man. But days turned into weeks, and
all they had were vague descriptions and dead end leads.
Support poured in from every corner.
Friends drop by with casseroles and comforting words.
Neighbors set up a neighborhood watch, their vigilant eyes
scanning the streets for any anomaly.
But in the midst of this communal embrace, I felt more
isolated than ever. Max Two was on high alert, his
cheerful demeanor replaced by a constant wariness.
Our bond deepened in these trying times, our senses attuned
to each other's fears. 1 evening, as I was trying to lose
myself in the pages of a book, a familiar tapping sound cut
through the stillness. My heart raced, a cold dread
spreading through my veins. Max growled, His gaze fixed
intently on the window. I approached it hesitantly,
memories of our last encounter flashing before my eyes.
Peering out, I saw nothing but the vast darkness of the night.
The tapping had ceased, replaced by an eerie silence.
Was my mind playing tricks on me?
Was the trauma finally taking its toll?
I decided to step out, needing to shake off the unease.
The porch light cast a small pool of light, revealing nothing
amiss. The streets were silent, the
world seemingly holding its breath.
Then a whisper broke the silence.
It was soft, almost inaudible, coming from the shadows just
beyond the edge of the light. You can't hide, it hissed,
dragging on in a chilling singsong manner.
Panicking, I turned back to the safety of my house, only to find
the front door slowly creaking shut.
Max barked furiously from inside, his cries growing
distant as the door latched with a definitive click.
Desperation surged through me. I pounded on the door, screaming
for help. The whisper grew louder.
Closer. You can't escape.
I scrambled to find an alternate entry circling the house to the
back door. To my horror, standing there,
masked as before, was the man. He wasn't tapping or whispering
now. Instead, he just stood there,
silent and still, the moonlight reflecting off the sharp blade
he held in his hand, hard in my throat.
I made a split second decision and darted to the woods, my only
thought to get as far away as possible.
The trees enveloped me, their shadows thick and disorienting.
I could hear him behind me, his steps measured and confident as
I ran deeper into the woods. I suddenly stumbled upon a
clearing, and there, to my horror, stood multiple figures,
all masked, all silently watching me.
The man's voice, now clear and chillingly calm, echoed.
You finally joined us. The circle of masked figures
tightened around me, their intentions clear.
There was no escape. The terrifying realization hit
me. This wasn't just one man's
obsession. It was something much larger,
much more sinister, and I was right in the middle of it.
The old oak door to my office always creaked, a warning that
someone was coming in. The sound itself was a reminder
of the countless days spent within the confines of the
university. But today, that sound carried
with it a certain magic. There she stood, Priscilla, with
that half smile of hers, her Auburn hair loosely pulled back,
those eyes shimmering with mischief.
Got a moment, Professor. I swirled the contents of my
cold coffee for you, Priscilla. Always.
She leaned against the desk, her fingers tracing the grain of the
aged wood. Ever been to the Pennine Hills?
I quirked an eyebrow, intrigued. For a city guy like me, No.
Why don't we change that? Her voice dropped to a
conspiratorial whisper. How about we run away together?
Just for a little while? I chuckled.
Run away. You make it sound so dramatic,
She shrugged. Maybe it is, But it's a place, I
know. Secluded, breathtaking, and I'd
like to share it with someone who'd appreciate it.
There was an earnestness in her tone, a genuine invitation mixed
with a challenge. I knew she wasn't just talking
about camping. I'd always seen Priscilla as
someone out of reach, like a puzzle, with pieces missing, a
mix of vulnerability and strength, youth and wisdom.
Looking out the window, the campus green seemed a world away
from the wild expanses of the Pennine Hills.
Is this your way of telling me to step out of my comfort zone?
Her grin grew wider. Maybe the entire idea was
ludicrous. I was 2 decades older and she
was my student. Yet the idea of a getaway was
tempting. What harm could come from it?
All right? I conceded, A grin forming.
When do we leave? The journey took us through a
patchwork of fields, villages, and then increasingly remote
landscapes. The beauty of the Pennines was
undeniable, but desolation was the word that came to mind as we
trek deeper into its core. Every so often, Priscilla would
look back, her face breaking into a gleeful smile.
Tired yet, Professor? We've barely started, I
retorted, ignoring the twinge in my ankle.
She vaulted a metal gate with ease, waiting for me on the
other side. The vastness of the Moreland
stretched endlessly, and in the distance wind turbines painted a
modern contrast against the wild backdrop.
It was silent, save for the distant calling of crows and the
howl of the wind. The terrain turned treacherous.
Soon my foot landed awkwardly, causing a sharp pain to shoot up
my leg. You brought me out here to kill
me, didn't you? I grumbled.
She laughed, helping steady me. Not yet, Professor.
The place I have in mind is a little further.
Can you keep up? Her playful challenge was all I
needed, despite the discomfort I followed, drawn in by the
mystery of it all. As we set up camp that evening,
the sun cast long shadows across the hills, the wind whispered
tales of old, and for the first time in years, I felt truly
alive. That night, with the canvas of
our tent flapping softly, Priscilla whispered.
Thank you for coming with me. I smiled in the dim light.
The adventures just begun, but neither of us realized just how
true that was. The sun had barely broken the
horizon, a faint orange glow turning the hills into a canvas
of shifting shadows. Priscilla and I had a quiet
understanding, a shared look, a touch, a secret smirk as I
stretched out. The pain in my ankle reminded me
of the previous day's trek. I started up the portable stove,
and soon the aroma of brewing coffee filled the air.
Priscilla stirred in her sleeping bag, mumbling softly
before sitting up with a start. She rubbed her temples.
Had the oddest dream, Professor children's voices whispering
outside our tent. I frowned, recalling the
unsettling sensation I'd experienced in the night, a
feeling I'd tried to dismiss. You heard them too.
She noded, her face pale. I thought it was just the wind.
As we sipped our coffee in silence, I scanned the
surrounding area. There was no one insight, just
miles and miles of Heather and the distant wind turbines.
We decided to take a hike that day.
Despite the bleakness, there was an allure to this place.
Priscilla led the way, pointing out hills and other landmarks.
I nodded along, but the chill in the air made me wrap my jacket
tighter. Midway through our hike, I
paused to take out my binoculars.
In the distance, four small figures appeared.
Priscilla, Look. I pointed.
She squinted. Just some locals, maybe.
We continued on our path, but a feeling of unease settled in.
The rain began to drizzle, and soon the figures disappeared.
Evening found us back at our campsite.
As I set out our meal, Priscilla suddenly tensed, her eyes
darting to the tent entrance. A voice broke the silence.
Who's camping on my land? I got to my feet, finding myself
face to face with a rugged man wearing a flat cap.
Three children clung to him, their eyes wide with fear.
There was an unmistakable resemblance.
The man adjusted his cap, eyeing us suspiciously.
Got a permit to be here. I cleared my throat, trying to
keep my voice steady. Sorry, we weren't aware my
student here mentioned this was public land.
The man grunted. Student day not causing trouble,
I hope. Priscilla stepped forward, her
voice firm. We meant no harm.
We can pack up and leave. The man's demeanor suddenly
changed, his lips curving into a smile.
Nah, it's all right. Just pulling your leg.
But you scared my kids here. I glanced at the children, their
faces still filled with apprehension.
Apologies, we didn't mean to intrude.
The man gave a curt nod. Just be mindful next time.
With that, he and his children left, their figures slowly
disappearing over the Ridge. Priscilla and I exchanged
glances. That was odd.
She shivered. Let's pack up tomorrow.
This place feels off. I agreed.
We climbed into our sleeping bags, but sleep was hard to come
by. The wind seemed to carry those
whispered voices again, more pronounced, more insistent.
Professor Priscilla whispered, her voice shaky.
Do you hear them too? I nodded, pulling her close.
Whatever was happening, we'd face it together.
Morning dawned, gloomy and Gray despite the uneasiness of the
previous day. I tried to shake off the
feeling. Maybe we were just letting our
imaginations run wild, but Priscilla's demeanor had
changed. The vivaciousness I loved was
replaced with quiet contemplation.
I think I know a place, she whispered, pouring over a map.
There's a small care nearby. Might be a good spot to rest, I
agreed, hoping a change of scene would lift our spirits.
The hike was silent. Priscilla seemed lost in
thought, pointing occasionally to some hill or a landmark.
The air felt heavy, the overcast sky pressing down.
When we arrived at the Cairn, I felt an eerie stillness.
These stones, stacked meticulously, stood as silent
Sentinels in this desolate landscape.
Priscilla leaned against the Cairn, her face pale.
I've been here before, Professor, With my grandparents.
They told tales of the children of the Moor, spirits lost,
searching for a way home. I frowned, remembering the
whispered voices. You think there's some truth to
it? She sighed.
I thought it was just a story to keep kids from wandering off,
But after last night, a chill wind blew, making the Heather
dance. Priscilla wrapped her arms
around herself. There's a legend about this
Cairn. It's said to be a beacon for
lost souls guiding them. I tried to laugh it off.
Old tales. Priscilla meant to give
explanations to the unexplained. She shook her head.
I have a bad feeling, Professor. We should leave.
Just then, a miss started to roll in, enveloping the
Moreland. Visibility dropped, and a sense
of foreboding gripped me. All right, let's head back.
But the way back seemed distorted.
The landscape, once familiar, now felt alien.
Every direction looked the same. The whispers grew louder, more
insistent. It felt as though they were
right next to us. Priscilla clutched my arm.
They're here. I shown the torch around, but
all I saw was the swirling fog. No shapes, no shadows.
Yet the feeling of being watched was undeniable.
Suddenly, Priscilla screamed, pointing at the ground there,
appearing and disappearing. In the mist were faint
footprints of children. They seemed to circle us,
closing in. Stay close, I shouted, pulling
Priscilla with me. We needed to get out of this
fog, out of this cursed moorland.
As we trudged on, the whispers became voices, discernible
words. Stay.
Join us. Don't leave.
I could feel my heart pounding, every shadow of potential
threat. After what felt like hours, the
fog started to lift and the familiar shape of our tent
appeared in the distance. Exhausted, we stumbled in, but
the relief was shortlived. The tent flap rustled and the
farmer's voice cut through the silence, leaving so soon.
I turned, flashlight illuminating his gaunt face, but
there was no sign of Priscilla. Panic gripped me as I realized
she had vanished. The Moors, with their ever
shifting myths and undulating landscapes, had always seemed
like a different world to me. But now, with Priscilla missing,
they felt like an unyielding maze.
Where is she? I demanded, staring into the
farmer's eyes, searching for any hint of deception.
His cloudy eyes remained impassive.
I warned you, He whispered, his voice graveled with age and
wisdom. The Moors don't like visitors.
Cut the riddles. Where is she?
My voice echoed across the vast expanse, making the nearby birds
scatter into the dreary sky. He took a deep breath.
I've seen this before. People who don't respect the
land end up becoming a part of it.
A sinking feeling nod at me. I had to find her and quickly
help me. I pleaded.
He studied me for what felt like an eternity before nodding.
There's an old stone circle east of here.
It's said to be the gateway between our world and theirs.
If she's anywhere, she'll be there.
Without wasting any time, we set off.
The farmer's pace was surprisingly fast, and his
knowledge of the treacherous landscape was evident.
Every so often he'd mutter something in a language I didn't
understand, making signs in the air.
As we walked, I couldn't shake the feeling of unseen eyes on
us, whispers brushing past my ears.
The Moreland was alive, watching our every move.
After hours of trekking, we reached the stone circle.
The stones worn by time stood tall and menacing.
At the center was a flat stone altar, stained dark.
My heart raced as I thought of what might have transpired
there. The farmer spoke, breaking the
silence. You have to call out to her, but
be warned, the spirits might answer too.
Swallowing hard, I stepped into the circle.
Priscilla, I shouted. My voice echoed back to me,
carried by the wind. I called again and again.
Each shout more desperate than the last.
Suddenly a soft voice whispered back.
Professor. I whirled around.
There she was, standing just outside the circle, her face
pale, eyes distant. Relief washed over me as I
rushed to her, pulling her into an embrace.
But she was cold, her body rigid.
Priscilla. I murmured, pulling back to look
at her. Her eyes slowly focused on me,
and she whispered. They want something, Professor.
I glanced at the farmer who was watching us intently.
What do they want? He sighed.
A trade. A life for a life.
I felt a chill run down my spine.
What does that mean? He looked at me, sadness evident
in his eyes. To save her, you might have to
give up something or someone. Desperation clouded my judgment.
I'll do whatever it takes. The farmer nodded solemnly.
Very well. But remember, once the trade is
made, it can't be undone. As the sun began to set, casting
an eerie glow over the Moors, I prepared to make the most
challenging decision of my life. The cold was unbearable.
With every passing moment, the Moreland seemed to close.
In the atmosphere, growing heavy with anticipation, the farmer,
with his ancient wisdom, stood outside the stone circle,
observing silently. I'm ready, I said, trying to
sound confident. But the quiver in my voice
betrayed my fear. Priscilla, her form now more
tangible, looked at me. Her once bright eyes now
clouded. Professor, I've seen them.
They're not of this world. A shiver ran down my spine.
Who are they? She hesitated, searching for
words, Shadows, whispers, memories of those long gone.
They roam these lands, searching for souls.
The stone circle seemed to pulse with energy, the very earth
vibrating beneath my feet. From the shadows, ethereal
figures began to emerge, their forms flickering like old film
footage. We seek balance, one of them
hissed, it's voice echoing through the chilly air.
I took a deep breath. What do you want in exchange for
Priscilla's safe return? The shadows seem to move and
merge, communicating in a dance of light and dark after what
seemed like an eternity. One of them spoke.
A memory, a cherished moment, The best of your life, given to
us, never to be remembered again.
My mind raced, trying to comprehend the gravity of the
trade to give up a memory. My most cherished one felt like
tearing away a piece of my soul. Priscilla's gaze met mine, her
eyes pleading. Do it, Professor set me free,
gathering every ounce of courage.
I nodded. Take it.
Take my most cherished memory. A collective hiss of approval
came from the shadows. One of the figures extended a
smoky hand toward me as it touched my forehead.
I felt a searing pain, as if something was being pulled out
of me. The world spun and I gasped,
trying to recall the memory I just sacrificed, but it was
gone, an empty void in its place.
As the pain subsided, the figures retreated into the
shadows and the land grew silent.
Priscilla, now solid and real, collapsed into my arms.
We did it, I whispered, relief washing over me, but the farmers
grave voice interrupted, our brief moment of reprieve.
You've made your trade, but remember, this land is alive.
It remembers. I frowned.
What do you mean? He gestured to the horizon,
where dark clouds were gathering.
The Moors are ancient, and they've seen many trades.
Your memory will feed them, but for how long?
A cold wind picked up, howling and carrying with it the
whispers of 1000 lost souls. Priscilla clung to me, her eyes
wide with terror. They're coming.
The horizon darkened as a tidal wave of shadows surged towards
us, their hungry cries echoing across the vast expanse.
The stone circle, once a place of safety, now seemed like a
trap. The farmer, his voice filled
with resignation, murmured. The balance is never truly met,
the Moors always hunger for more.
I held Priscilla close, realizing the horrifying truth,
our escape, our brief victory, had only angered the land more.
The shadows closed in their cold embrace, promising an eternity
of darkness as the terrifying force consumed US1 thought rang
clear. The Moors never forget, and they
never forgive. The world has a way of slipping
through your fingers when you least expect it.
The colors of a sunset, the vivid hues of a blooming flower,
the nuances of an expressive face, all stolen from me.
Glaucoma, a term I never thought I'd have to reckon with.
At 21, I used to take pride in picking the perfect shade of
lipstick or matching my shoes with my outfits.
Now I measure my world in decreasing percentages.
Currently it stands at a mere 10 percent, 10% of blurry shapes,
of shadowed impressions and in darkness, nothing.
Sitting on the porch, I tried to memorize the fading outlines of
our home. A comfortable space, neither
grand nor shabby. A place where every corner was
etched in my memory, now more from touch than sight.
My fingers grazed the railing, feeling the grooves and notches
that came from years of wear. This tactile world was my new
reality. Our neighborhood was as familiar
as the back of my hand, A hand that had lately become my eyes.
Children's laughter from the Johnson's next door.
The scent of Missus Baker's pies wafting from 2 houses down.
The soft hum of traffic from the main road.
All sensory landmarks that helped me navigate my day.
The door creaked open, breaking my reverie Dad returning from
his long shift at the hospital. He might have aged five years.
In the short span since my diagnosis, the weight of my
condition etched deep worry lines onto his face.
Hey, kiddo, He called out softly, a warm smile in his
voice. I turned towards the sound,
offering a grin. Long day, Dad.
He sighed. The usual, but it's all worth it
when I come home to you. How was your day?
I chuckled. The same.
You know how it is. The kids at school keep me on my
toes. Their questions about my sight
never end. Dad settled next to me, his arm
wrapping protectively around my shoulders.
They're just curious, honey. It's a testament to your
strength that you keep teaching, keep pushing forward.
I leaned into his embrace, drawing strength.
It's them, Dad. Those kids.
They don't pity me. Their genuine curiosity, their
resilience reminds me to push forward.
Before he could respond, the distinctive ring of the house
phone echoed. Mom's shift at the 911 dispatch
was unpredictable. Calls at any hour were
commonplace. Dad Rose planting a soft kiss on
my forehead. I'll get it.
Probably your mother checking in.
As his footsteps receded, I thought of the anchor that my
parents had become. Their strength, their undying
faith in me, their silent struggles.
It fueled my determination to adapt, to conquer this darkness.
Inch by inch, the soft chime of my phone disturbed my thoughts.
Tiara, my lifeline in this shifting world, had texted.
Her messages were always full of life, pulling me out of my
introspective moments. Movie marathon tonight, let's
drown in some drama, I chuckled, typing back only if we binge on
popcorn and ice cream. Her reply was instant deal.
See you at 7. Can't wait, I texted back.
Life had thrown me a curveball. But in the grand scheme of
things, I wasn't alone. The darkness might be
encroaching, but with the love of my family, the loyalty of
friends like Tiara, and the innocent wonder of my students,
I had an army by my side. And with that army, I was ready
to face anything. The slow hum of the ceiling fan
created a soothing backdrop to our marathon night.
Tiara and I sprawled out on the living room floor, an array of
snacks spread between us. Every once in a while, my
fingers would bump into hers as we both reached for popcorn.
She'd laugh, and I'd playfully swat her hand away, relying on
memory and our shared chemistry. She'd been my pillar through the
toughest moments where others hesitated, Tiara just
understood. Our bond had grown deeper, more
intricate, with my loss of sight.
This episode, she whispered, leaning close.
It's the one where Anna discovers her sister's betrayal.
I felt her words more than heard them.
The vibrations, the subtle shifts in her tone don't spoil
it for me. I laughed.
I want to experience the drama. Tiara giggled, of course.
Of course, though I still find it a little weird watching TV
with someone who, well, can't really watch.
I nudged her with my elbow. Hey, I see in different ways
now. It's all about the sounds, the
story behind the dialogue, the emotions in their voices.
As the evening wore on, Tiara painted the visuals with her
words, her description so vivid that I felt I was seeing it all.
It was our ritual, my ears, her eyes.
Together, we made a hole. We reached the climax of the
series, both of us hanging on to every spoken word, every
background score. The emotions were palpable, and
when the credits rolled, we were left with a bittersweet cocktail
of satisfaction and sorrow. Tiara's sigh echoed my
sentiments. Wow, she whispered.
I didn't see that coming. I chuckled.
Neither did I. In a manner of speaking.
She playfully threw a cushion at me.
Always the joker, huh? We cleaned up the silence
between us. Comfortable.
Reflective, you know? I began Nights like these.
They make everything feel normal.
For a few hours. I forget.
Tiara squeezed my hand. That's what friends are for,
right? To be the light in each other's
darkness. I blinked away sudden tears.
She had a gift, The ability to always say the right things.
Thanks T for everything. She was silent for a moment.
I should head out. Early day tomorrow.
Her voice held a hint of regret. I nodded, escorting her to the
door. We said our goodbyes and I
locked up behind her, letting out a sigh.
The house felt emptier, the shadows more pronounced without
her lively presence. I grabbed the leftover popcorn,
wanting to wrap myself in the remnants of our evening.
Shuffling to the kitchen, I decided to load the dishwasher
and put on a podcast to keep me company.
As I settled into the routine, the gentle chime of my phone
signaled a message. Without looking, I knew it was
from Tiara. I'm home, Good night, and thanks
for the fun day, Siri read out loud.
I smiled, comforted by her safe arrival, my podcast droned on,
discussing strange occurrences a few towns over.
While the event sounded intriguing, I couldn't shake the
chill it brought. Maybe it was the contrast of the
joyful evening with Tiara and the eerie stories.
Shutting off the lights, I made my way to the living room,
letting the familiar textures guide me.
Curling up on the couch, I reached for the bowl of popcorn,
the familiar crunch a reminder of the laughter and camaraderie
of the evening. But as the house settled around
me, I couldn't help but feel the weight of the oncoming night and
the unpredictable darkness it brought with it.
The stillness of the house amplified the quiet, rustling
sounds outside. I'd always prided myself on my
heightened sense of hearing, but tonight it felt like a curse.
Every little noise drew my attention.
An errant leaf, the bird shifting in its sleep.
My ears picked up on them all, but then that distinct chime
from my phone cut through the silence.
My heart sped up. Not many people message me at
this hour. Person detected.
Backyard. Siri's voice mechanically
droned. I frowned, trying to make sense
of it. A squirrel, perhaps?
Or had Tiara forgotten something?
Maybe she was trying to sneak back to surprise me.
Shaking my head, I pushed those thoughts away.
I knew she was home, she told me herself.
Returning to my podcast, I felt a hint of unease, but tried to
focus on the storytellers voice. Yet the night wasn't done with
its surprises. Another chime, the same
announcement. This time I couldn't brush it
off. The safety of the four walls
felt compromised. I paused the podcast, letting my
ears stretch into the darkness, trying to discern any sign of
movement. The pulsating silence was broken
only by the rhythmic thud of my own heart.
The system had never given false alarms before.
I muttered a curse, reaching for my phone to call the security
company, but the device chimed again before I could dial.
Person detected. Backyard chills raced down my
spine. This was no glitch.
I knew it. Stumbling to the back glass
window, I strained my ears, desperate for some clue, some
sign that would either confirm my fears or put them to rest.
The thick darkness clung to the glass, reflecting the dim lights
from the living room. I pressed an ear to the window.
A soft exhale on the other side made my heart jump.
Someone was there, so close that I could feel their breath
against the glass. Fear took over.
My voice quivered as I dialed 911.
The waiting tone felt agonizingly long.
The familiar soft voice on the other end surprised me. 911,
What's the address of your emergency, Mom?
My voice cracked, the dread and familiarity intertwined, making
it hard to breathe. It was a cruel irony that my
mother, with her calming presence, was the one to take my
distress call. I choked out the details every
second, feeling like an eternity.
The fear was punctuated by her composed voice guiding me,
offering solace. But as the lights blinked out,
plunging the house into abyssal darkness, even her soothing
words couldn't stave off the rising panic in the pitch black.
My world shrunk further. My every step was hesitant, each
moment tense. My mother's frantic guidance in
my ear was the only tether I had to sanity.
But as I tried to navigate the familiar yet suddenly foreign
terrain, a cold realization dawned on me.
I hadn't locked the front door. After Tiara left, I relayed my
thoughts to mom, her voice echoing my dread, urging me to
hide. But some primal instinct
propelled me to the door. I needed to lock it to secure my
sanctuary. But just as I reached for the
latch, a sinister voice, cold and taunting, sent fresh waves
of terror coursing through me. The question remains, though.
Did you just lock me in or out? The uncertainty was the worst
part, the not knowing. But there, on the precipice of
my darkest fears, I realized that sometimes the monsters we
imagine are far worse than the ones that lurk in the shadows.
I was paralyzed in the spot, his chilling voice echoing in my
head. My hands trembled as I reached
out, fingers brushing the cool metal of the door handle.
In or out, the thought played on a loop, consuming my mind, then
a thud, distant but unmistakable.
The sound reverberated through the silence, snapping me back to
reality. It was coming from the back.
My initial instincts had been right.
The intruder was still outside. My mom's urgent whispers in my
ear brought back the gravity of the situation.
I needed to move to find a hiding spot under the bed, in
the closet, anywhere. Her voice pitched higher with
panic, but it was a controlled kind of panic, one shaped by
years of handling crises with slow, calculated steps.
I started moving upstairs. The familiarity of my home
worked in my favor as I navigated through the darkness,
the memories of each nook and corner guiding me.
I made my way to my room and slid under the bed.
The space was tight, my breaths shallow.
The world felt smaller from down there, and the weight of my
vulnerability pressed hard against my chest.
A muffled thud echoed from downstairs, followed by the
creak of a door the intruder had made it inside.
My heart raced, threatening to burst out of my chest.
Time felt suspended in that dark void under the bed.
Each second stretched into an eternity.
The house was silent, safe for the distant footsteps, which
grew louder with each passing moment.
Suddenly, my phone vibrated with an incoming call.
I stifled a scream, covering the glowing screen with my hand.
The glow seemed almost blinding in the pitch darkness.
Damn, I whispered, ending the call and silencing the phone.
But the damage was done. A shadow loomed at the doorway.
My breath caught in my throat, and I forced myself to lie
still, praying the intruder wouldn't notice me.
The room remained in tense silence.
Moments ticked by. It felt as though the intruder
was sniffing the air, sensing for a sign of life, and then the
unexpected sound of sirens in the distance they're wailing,
grew louder, piercing the silent night.
The intruder hesitated and then retreated hastily.
I held my breath, waiting, listening.
The footsteps grew fainter until they disappeared altogether, and
the sirens grew closer, more insistent.
It felt like hours before I finally dared to crawl out from
under the bed, my limbs stiff, my body soaked in sweat.
The red and blue lights flashed through the windows, painting
the walls with an eerie glow. Voices outside grew louder as
officers approached the house. I stumbled downstairs, unlocking
the door and letting in a rush of cool night air.
The first officer that entered was a familiar face, Officer
Daniels. He had once given a safety talk
at my school when I was younger. You okay?
He asked, concern evident in his eyes.
I nodded, still in shock. The reality of the night's
events was beginning to sink in. As the officer scoured the
house, they found no trace of the intruder, just a lingering
sense of unease that would forever mark this home.
But what they did find, chillingly close to the back
door, was a mask and a knife, glistening ominously in the
flashing police lights. The days became a haze.
After that night, the police combed every inch of the house
for evidence. They're gloved, hands turning
over our personal items as they searched for prints or clues.
The air in the house felt different, tainted, as though
the intruder had left a part of his darkness behind.
I kept reliving that night. Every Creek of the floorboards,
every rustle outside made me jump.
Sleep was elusive. Nightmares of the man's eyes
glistening with malice in the dim light of our living room
haunted my dreams. Officer Daniels came by often,
updating us on the investigation.
They had no leads. The mask and knife they found
were clean. No fingerprints, no DNA.
It was like the intruder was a ghost.
I'd sit on the porch for hours, watching the world go by,
finding solace in the chirping of the birds and the distant hum
of the neighborhood. A constant stream of friends,
neighbors and well wishers came by, offering support and
comfort. One such day, as the evening
light painted, the sky and hues of pink and gold tiara sat next
to me. We've been through so much,
shared so many memories, but this silence between us was a
new one. It was a silence filled with
understanding, with shared pain. I keep thinking, she whispered,
breaking the silence. What if I had stayed a little
longer? Or if I'd remembered to lock the
door behind me? I squeezed her hand.
You can't blame yourself. We can't live our lives
wondering about the what ifs. She sighed, resting her head on
my shoulder. You're stronger than I gave you
credit for. I chuckled softly.
I have to be. The world didn't stop because I
lost my sight, and it won't stop because of this, but it doesn't
mean I'm not terrified. We sat like that for a while,
drawing strength from each other.
The world felt a little less heavy with her.
By my side the next week, Officer Daniels had some news.
They'd found the intruder, a man with a string of burglaries and
a few assaults to his name. They'd caught him attempting to
break into another house, wearing the same mask.
Relief flooded over me, but it was bittersweet.
The knowledge that he was behind bars brought a semblance of
peace, but the scars of that night remained.
Life slowly began to return to normal.
I returned to work, facing my young students with a renewed
sense of purpose. Their innocent questions and
wideeyed wonder served as a balm for my wounded soul.
Months later, I stood before a gathered crowd, sharing my
story. The room was filled with people
from all walks of life, each with their own tales of
resilience as I recounted that fateful night, The terror, the
uncertainty. I also spoke of hope, of the
human spirit's ability to rise above adversity.
The applause was warm, but it was the faces in the crowd that
stayed with me, faces etched with understanding, with
empathy. In sharing my story, I'd found a
community, a sense of belonging. And as I stepped off the stage,
Tiara's proud hug enveloping me, I knew one thing for certain.
While darkness might momentarily cloud our lives, it's our inner
strength, our bonds with those around us that lights our way
forward.