So Cold

Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Bartholomew Jackson and I desperately need to get this story out by any means necessary. Your belief on the matter that follows is not required, but I would indeed appreciate it if you were to bear with me. I’m afraid I must inform you that your convictions on the paranormal may be challenged throughout my tale, but I assure you that all of it is quite true.

I was born on the southeast side of the Appalachian Mountains in eastern Kentucky in a mining town that has long been abandoned since then. On the exact hour of my birth a large portion of the coal mine on the outskirt of town collapsed. Fifty-seven men died that day, including my grandfather and two of my great uncles. The reason for the collapse was undetermined and declared an act of God by the local church.

As unimportant as this anecdote may seem, keep these facts in mind as we continue. Once I was released into my mothers care our family packed up and headed to a cabin on the opposite side of the mountain range that was inherited from our family patriarch’s untimely demise. A few uneventful days passed at our new home until the night of December 21st.

It was an especially cold night, snow was falling in legion outside and had all but blocked the road into the nearest town. My mother was cradling me in the crook of her arm while she slept, as per usual, and awoke to the sound of tapping. Attempting to rise and glance at the window my mother found that she could move nothing more than her eyes, as I’m sure you can imagine this fact alone was terrifying. The tapping continued until her gaze found the source, on the adjoining doorway that led into the living area was a set of fingers darker than the night around them gracefully tapping alongside the wooden frame.

Frozen in place my mother flinched as the fingers slammed onto the frame with enough force to cause the wood to creak and groan. Time slowed to a halt as a tall, lanky figure stepped into her bedroom. It’s body was entirely… black does not do it justice, the entity’s form seemed to be the antithesis to light itself, except for the eyes. Luminescent glowing pools of amber regarded her dismissively and focused upon my tiny form, my mother fought against whatever force was paralyzing her with all her might at this point but to no avail.

It shimmered out of focus and reappeared , standing silently next to my mother and I. Hours, minutes, seconds… my mother cannot recall how long the entity stared upon my sleeping form. Suddenly the creature moved with incredible speed , grabbing her arm (my mother shook involuntarily at this recollection when she told me, “So cold, so cold” she said) and almost gently placed it on her chest staring into her eyes.

It waved an arm in the space above me, and the moonlight that had been streaming in through the windows was blotted out. At this point my mother blacked out, and did not wake until the next morning. Finding herself able to move she threw back the covers and checked to see if I was still among the living and without harm. I received a single scar from that night in the shape of a five pointed star.

It has been twenty-five years to the day since that terrible night. Over the course of my entire life I’ve been experiencing harrowing nightmares and hearing murmuring voices when I’m alone.

The nightmares and I’m starting to have holes in my memory, whatever this is I think I’m running out of time. Anyone with knowledge on pagan or satanic rituals please contact me at bartjackson@ ohmy,whathavewehereacryforhelpthereisnohelpforthisvesselwearelegion.

Credit To: Will H.