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The Wrapper

the wrapper

Estimated reading time — 11 minutes

The point of me writing all this is because I don’t want any of my story to go without hearing, or any of my actions to go without seeing. I honestly don’t even know where to start as I’m anxious for this night to be over already. If you’re reading this, then things didn’t go as I had planned and there should be an attachment explaining where to go with this information. Anyway, here are the events that have unfolded in my house with a quick explanation at the end to kind of wrap things up on what I hope will occur. Then again, if you’re reading this, something must be wrong and I hope no one else canis in danger. Here we go…

It was mid October and my manic episodes started to kind of creep up on me like they have in past years. I’ve sort of gotten used to it though and I guess my dad knew as well and instinctively dialed the numbers to my on and off therapist. We can never really recall a specific initiating event that caused my disorder… which never helped the episodes go away (they sort of just dissipate over time). My dad always insists that it was my mom’s death that lead to it but I would never let him bring it to that. Even if my mom’s unforseen murder caused the episodes, talking about it with my dad would only really make him more depressed… right?

My best (and only) friend Micheal goes and lives with his grandparents for the fall and winter holidays and they haven’t had working Wi-Fi in their house for 5 years. The landline for their house is said to only be used for work so the only way to really contact Micheal was through the mail. I got really lonely around this time with no one to talk to besides my dad and my therapist, of whom I didn’t exactly like talking to when they were always bringing up my manic episodes. I sort of got into this dreaded routine of school and sleep with terrible conversations to fill in the gaps between them.


I was coming home late from my therapy session one night (I had to drive myself as my dad went out with friends to a bar and I didn’t think he was coming home sober if at all) and it had been rather quiet when I entered the house.When I had left, it was still bright outside so none of the lights were needed to be on. I only really bothered turning on the kitchen light when I got in so that I could grab a glass of water before I fell asleep. I didn’t even bother changing when I entered my bedroom and plopped onto my bed. I was tired as hell from the arguing I had with my therapist who was certain that I needed to take 7 different pills every day. I quickly but comfortably tucked myself under my covers and rolled onto my side to position my eyes to a corner of my bedroom… where do I even begin. I had walked in and gotten into bed so fast that I hadn’t even noticed the tall slender figure staring at me from the corner of my room. Its eyes were so big and wide that it seemed as if the figure didn’t have eyelids, or at least didn’t have a need for them. It also had a wide grin, but not the type of grin you’d see on a child with a present, no this was a menacing and distorted grin that provoked unknown intentions. It stood taller than the ceiling so that its head had to hunch down where the wall met the ceiling. It was sort of tucked in to the corner with its arms spread out against the walls and its feet parallel to the walls adjacent to them. I would tell you that I screamed but I didn’t, or couldn’t at least. Instead I just laid there paralyzed in fear of what stood before me. We locked eyes for what seemed like hours as I was unable to move.

I don’t remember falling asleep but I woke up to light beaming in from my window. It was Saturday so I didn’t have to go to school, instead I was tasked with finding where my dad was. He never came home last night and I had no idea which bar he went to, but I had a hunch that he had hung out with his drinking buddy Darrel. I called Darrel who confirmed that my dad spent the night at his place. Sometimes I wonder if my therapist would be better off with my dad than with me. After I hung up the awkward phone call with Darrel I immediately remembered the figure that haunted me last night and felt the urge to tell someone, anyone. I hadn’t mailed Micheal much besides the occasional friendly gesture just to let him know I still exist, so I decided I’d tell him about the event. I left it unknown on whether I thought it was a dream or not so to make sure he didn’t think I was a lunatic who needed more than a therapist. I honestly thought that if I were to have gone to someone and told them that I thought all of this were real, I would be put into a mental asylum.

About a week has past since the incident and I had almost completely swept it under the rug when all of a sudden I checked the mail and I got a response from Micheal. Apparently he was more concerned about the figure than I was and totally believed that I needed to see a priest or whatever. My family has never been big on religion even when my mom was alive so I didn’t happen to believe in any of that mumbo jumbo nonsense. I needed to make some kind of cloture for all this though so I decided to just google what had happened and find some sort of medical excuse to make sense of it. The best I could find was sleep paralysis as it made the most sense considering I was unable to move. Once I declared that’s what it was, I felt a little bit better about the whole thing and tried to ignore that it happened. Big Mistake. After I did all that research it was late at night and I had found it very easy to fall asleep. I did my normal routine of brushing my teeth, washing my face, and getting into my night time clothing. You could tell I was still a little frightened by the whole thing and before I got into bed I checked the corners, closets, and under my bed… nothing, so I sunk into my bed and drifted to sleep.

I awoke around 2:15 am and I moved to make sure I wasn’t having sleep paralysis, I was in the clear. I got out of bed and moved towards the door to go use the bathroom like I usually do at this hour, only… standing in front of the door staring into my dreaded soul was the tall figure again. The figure looked a little more red this time, and it also seemed a little distraught, but in a creepy maniacal way. Its hands had sharp fingers that seemed predator like. This time I hadn’t frozen in fear so naturally, I screamed for help knowing that my dad was actually home and somehow sober this time. The figure was aware of what was happening and for the first time I saw it move. It was very agile and it swiftly jumped and clung to the ceiling. The figure remained in full eye contact with me which caused its head to be 180 degrees backwards like an owl. As soon as the figure performed this movement my dad swung open the door ready to pounce on whatever was intruding in on our house. He saw me point towards the ceiling at the shadow figure, but… my dad was confused. The figure was still there but my father could not see it staring straight at me with its gleaming eyes. My father was seriously pissed at my behavior and told me if I just wanted attention I should join the circus. The figure was thoroughly pleased and I swore I saw its grin get bigger when my dad closed the door behind him. I was still standing there in shock as I tried to make out what the actual fuck was happening. I decided to not try and interact with the figure and to go sleep; this happened to work last time. So I hopped into bed and turned my body to its regular sleeping position only for the figure to now be about 10 inches away from my face laughing at my painful fright. It was crouching on the ground to where its head met the height of mine. It took awhile but the figure watched me fall asleep to its creepy face.

As soon as I woke up I didn’t wait to check every possible location that the figure might be hiding in. I didn’t know what to do and my father was not going to help at all… so I did some more digging. I skipped school to soar through online forums searching for an answer as to what this thing is and what the hell it might want from me. Maybe it just likes inflicting fear upon its victims, maybe it wants to harm me, or maybe it was made by the government to spy on me. These were all answers I got from random forums I found on the internet but none of them were good enough or specifically answered my burning questions. Before I knew it, it was midnight and I had to go to school the next day. Using bipolar disorder as an excuse to not go to school would only work once in a blue moon. I tried to stay up anyway figuring I could just sleep the class away, but alas, I fell victim to fatigue.

I woke up this time around 3 am and there the figure was again, crouched on the ground, its head next to mine staring at me. The figure seemed pissed this time, like it knew what it wanted and tonight it was going to get it. This time the figure made sure I wasn’t going to make any sudden alerts to my father and before I screamed, the figure reached out with its slender arm and blocked my mouth from making a sound. The claws were slimy but furry against my face, almost as if it were a werewolf, but no, I would way rather have a werewolf come and eat me then what awaited me. I tried to get up but the figure anticipated this as well and climbed into my bed and on top of me, while remaining in eye contact with its immovable grin. Next thing I know, the figure… it was… hugging me… but not with a normal warm fuzzy feeling you get from a normal hug. As soon as the figure hugged me, I felt deep despair fill my body, everything that was happy now became awful and dark. My gut was just shot and there was an empty void that could never be filled. I felt alone even with the figure choking my body. This was the opposite of a hug. I could no longer breath and I knew this was the end, I just knew it, but I couldn’t suffocate. I laid there, depressed and unable to breath for hours until once again I fell asleep.


I woke up making sure I wasn’t violated in any way, but it seems as though nothing occured. I went through my daily routine of waking up, eating breakfast, taking my antidepressants, arguing with my dad about random unimportant shit, went to school, came home, did my homework, and ate dinner. I didn’t tell anyone as I didn’t want people to think I was insane, I was already labeled as an outcast and didn’t want another target on my punching bag. The whole day all I could think of was the figure and how I might have to go through all that again or maybe it’ll just kill me and end this shit. But when I finally did everything and went to bed, I couldn’t allow myself to sleep. My body was too frightened to feel tired, and because of this I just laid in bed staring at the corner of my bedroom with no figure in sight. It was about 4 am and I figured I was in the clearing when all of a sudden my door opened and in came my dad drunk as ever. I got up and helped him back into bed nice and carefully trying not to startle his fragile system. I got a glass of water and went back to bed knowing perfectly well I wasn’t going to sleep when yet again my door opens and in comes my drunk- I turn my head to see the tall figure moving rapidly towards my bed. My gut fell through the floor as the stare filled my body only to make it feel empty as ever. I thought I was in the clear, but here it was again already climbing into bed and wrapping itself around me… smiling… menacingly. Yet again I couldn’t breathe but did not suffocate as if instead of taking in oxygen I was taking in anguish. I once again fell asleep in the arms of a monstrous version of Achlys.


A couple weeks had gone by where I couldn’t escape these night terrors, no matter what I did, the figure always came back as if it needed to feed off of my soul, as if it needed to feed off of my happiness. The only problem with that theory is that with my bipolar disorder, there ain’t much happiness to take in. I’d tell it to go leech off my dad but recently he’s been visiting the bar more often and spending more nights with Darrel. It’s been a couple weeks and I still haven’t gotten used to the figure. Every night is the same, it comes in, climbs in bed, and wraps itself around me. The only difference in every night is how much progress the figure has made towards me when I wake up. Sometimes the figure is in the corner when I wake up, while other times I wake up to it already clinging to me, already showing me the ways of true terror.

I’m not big on self defense and once the figure is wrapped around me, all hope is pretty much gone so I hadn’t ever really tried resisting… until this one night. I didn’t grab any kind of weapon but I guess I figured I had nothing to lose and enough was enough… boy was I wrong. It was 3 am and I could tell the figure was about to make it’s way from the corner of my room to my bed, but this time was different. I got out of bed after the figure made its first step towards me and I followed up with a firm “stop.” Yet again, my dad was either at a bar or in his bed blackout drunk so he wouldn’t be able to hear me or do anything if he did. What the tall figure did next made me regret my decision to resist. The figure stared at me… but this time it’s eyes seemed bigger and next thing I knew, the creature’s head slowly began to tilt to the side like a puppy who’s puzzled, except this tilt didn’t put a warm smile on my face, instead I felt regret take over my body. The figure sunk into the ground and vanished only for it to regrow out of the floorboard inches away from me. The figure stretched out one of its arms ready to slice its claws at me… and that it did. I laid on the ground with scratches across my stomach and tears in my shirt. I didn’t want to get up so I just laid there hoping that the figure would think I was dead.

The next morning I quickly changed so that my dad wouldn’t end up seeing my fucked up shirt. The shirt was always a little big on me anyway so throwing it out didn’t hurt much. Instead the only things that hurt were the new scars that stretched across my body with dried blood on them. I didn’t bother cleaning it as I figured it would hurt like a bitch and it had already started to scab anyway. Yet again, I obviously didn’t tell anyone, not even my therapist. I was afraid that either my dad or I would get sent to a mental asylum for either self harm or child abuse. At this point I was out of ideas and I didn’t want to try and resist again as I was afraid I might actually die of a heart attack before the creature could even get to me. So I started to play it safe and didn’t ever resist… for now

Another two weeks went by, my dad lost his job for going in to work drunk AND hungover again. I couldn’t afford to see my therapist anymore which I actually didn’t mind at all but this meant I had more time at home with my dad and the figure. Micheal and I got into a fight about some pointless issue that I can no longer recall and we slowly stopped talking. The visits from the figure seemed to be the only interesting thing going on in my life, and that was not a good thing. When the only eventful thing in your life happens to be depressing and painful, then your view on life seems to differ and depression takes over. I needed to end this whether that meant killing the figure or die trying. But I couldn’t let it know I was going to resist, as it would kill me swiftly. I needed to surprise it, with a weapon.


This story has now caught up with the present and I will now share my plan on getting rid of this vermin. I have made a sort of knife vest with knives poking out of the chest area so that when the figure goes to wrap around me, it will be stabbed in the chest by 3 blades. I have never seen the figure hurt, and the only expression on its face has been a menacing grin, so I don’t know what will happen tonight, but wish me luck. Then again… if you’re reading this, my vest didn’t succeed, and the figure is still out there somewhere… staring at its next victim with its wide grin. Or hey, maybe we both end up dead… who knows? All I know is that if this keeps going, I will end up insane or end up shooting myself. Neither of which sound any better than dying from the creatures claws. This may not be the expected and fulfilling ending you wanted, but I might not be able to write this after tonight, as I might be dead. Thank you for listening to my story, please proceed on to my requested will.

police report

daniels will

CREDIT : Aidan Reeves

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