Estimated reading time — 3 minutes
I hope someone discovers this. I write to no one in particular, in hopes that this can be read by all. I write this with the intention of giving a warning- straightforward, concise, and blatant in meaning.
Perhaps an explanation is due. I’ll try to keep it brief.
It’s well known that humans have the capacity to comprehend. We devour layer upon layer of vast knowledge, as if it were the most delectable cake in all the galaxies. We are powered by the most complex piece of machinery known on Earth, which has yet to be artificially replicated outside its natural environment. This technology, however, houses a flaw- the more information it takes on, the more viruses it catches. One startling or bad bit of information, and this magnificent machinery can become our ultimate demise.
I know this flaw exists, because it always has existed. The more powerful something is, the greater the flaw tends to be. And I can feel it. It never leaves me alone. I can’t get a second of peace, not even a moment of solitude. For even in my solitude, it’s there. It’s always there.
It’s not a who, nor a what, but a thing. The thingiest thing I’ve ever had the displeasure to come across.
This thing appears to be sentient. I try not to be fooled, but sometimes it all becomes too overwhelming. It’s right over my shoulder- I know it is- but it hides whenever I glance back. And though I’ve yet to see it, I dread turning back one day and coming face to face with it. I’ve heard stories of those who have, and I can guarantee you have as well. These people are currently confessing their sightings and experiences to licensed psychiatrists, or taking prescription pills to dull the anxious feelings. The ones more persistent in their quests to release the identities of the shadow lurkers are, in a best case scenario, locked in padded cells and spoon fed twice a day. I know better than to confess.
It’s always taunting me, straying just beyond my line of my vision. I can feel it’s claws rake up and down my spine, sending unnatural chills throughout my nervous system. It’s always making me nervous. Did I mention that this thing can multiply? Yes, it takes the forms of many beastly spirits, different in shape but singular in cause. This voiceless being has many faceless sub-entities- and they all are out to get me.
My room, my most personal space, becomes invaded by darker forces. They hide in the usual places- under the bed, in the closet, under the floor boards, and even between the pages of my books. It bides it’s time, waiting for the right moment when I let down my guard. I know its desires nothing greater than to tear me apart, starting from the inside and working its way out. Even hiding under the covers does no good- in the half of a second I have the covers lifted, they rush out from their hiding places and go under with me. For God’s sake, don’t get stuck in small spaces with it. It’ll try to suffocate you.
Perhaps you’ve felt it, too. In fact, I know you have. That whisper of the dark forces, teeming with a knowledge of every abysmal moment, every black day in the history of your memory, is very real- and it haunts all of us. It’s a psychological demand to spotlight the unholiest of ghosts, to drag them from the depths and place them center-stage in your life- and it very well may be our greatest downfall.
This thing… it’s out to get me. I can feel it at this very moment. My greatest piece of advice for anyone struggling with this thing is, unless you’re ready to go at war with this thing…
Don’t turn around.
Credit To: Haley René