Creepy - The Voyeur

Episode Date: January 30, 2023

Watch...***Written by: Sam Evenson***Bonus Episode: "Let Me In" written by: Jamie Anne and narrated by: Nate DuFort***Check out our reward tiers at patreon.com/creepypod***Sound Design by Pacific Obadiah***Title music by Alex Aldea Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

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The Voyeur Written by Sam Evenson The day Jake moved in He received a knock on his door around dinner time He opened it to find Rose Parson standing with a wicker basket filled with cookies Fresh vegetables and summer sausage She looked in her early thirties and wore a low-cut orange dress that matched her hair Jake had to fight to keep eye contact

Something that was a struggle for him regardless of whether or not it was a beautiful one woman. Cookies are for me. My husband Ewan made the sausage. It's venison. He hunts deer, so we got no shortage of it. Jake stammered an awkward thank you. Oh, thank you. I'm sick of it. You're doing us a favor by taking it. Welcome to the neighborhood. She said neighborhood with air quotations and laughed. There's were the only two houses on this remote stretch of road, separated by pavement and surrounded by forest. She invited Jake to come over. She invited Jake to come over for a drink, but he politely declined. Lots of boxes to unpack and he was quite tired from the move. Of course, she said with a smile, she started back toward home, then turned back to Jake.

Just wondering, how much did the house go for? Jake told her the number, which had seemed low to him, but her expression seemed to express the opposite. Oh, well, congrats on the place. It's been sitting vacant for almost a year now, we were afraid of getting squatters. Rose left their contact information in the little basket, then returned home. Jake figured he would have plenty of time to socialize once he got everything organized and his confidence back up. He'd fallen into a deep depression, living in Seattle. It was the city, he was sure of it. The gloomy weather, the noise and buzz of traffic and sirens and people rushing from one place to another made him want to just sleep. and the women.

They were beautiful there, but they were impossible. All of them with unrealistically high standards, looking for partners to check their boxes of money and muscles and travelability. Jake longed for a simpler life. His grandparents had lived in the country, and as he grew older, the simplicity of their lifestyle began to make more sense to him. The silence and the slowness was everything.

here. With the external forces of urgency finally gone, there was no rush to unpack. Jake used moving boxes like cabinets, occasionally moving dishes that he used into real cabinets and drawers when he was done with them. He only left the house to go to the supermarket for food, dreaming that he might meet someone, a friend, a beautiful woman, anyone, but he found that all the people here seemed just as indifferent to him as the ones in Seattle had been. The clerks were friendlier, perhaps, but everyone else seemed to already have a family, or were so old or unhealthy looking that Jake found himself to be the one looking away. Before going in, he would practice introducing himself to people in the rear-view mirror of his car in the parking lot. Then, after returning,

he had stared himself in the same mirror and seen nothing but a fat coward who was unable to say more than hello to the greeter at the door. Across the way at the parson house, where their large windows were always open, Rose and Ewan seemed busy and happy. He thought of Rose often, as she had been the only woman to approach him with such friendliness before. He thought of how their hands touched when she gave him the basket, and he could swear he remembered her blushing. He could not be sure of what she felt,

but he knew that he had felt such a great rush of warmth. There was nothing he wanted more than to be near her again. But for now, he was content to watch from a distance. He learned Rosa's daytime routine quickly. Kiss you and goodbye at 7 a.m., morning jog on the treadmill in the upstairs workout room, usually a tight sports bra and a bouncing ponytail. Then she would go downstairs and mix a massive, picture of smoothie with leafy greens and fruits from her garden, which she could never finish by

herself. Next, she would appear on the living room couch to do remote work with clients. Jake hadn't thought to ask what her job was, but it involved a lot of Zoom calls. She would occasionally banish and unseen rooms beyond the front windows until her afternoon break where she would go to tend the garden. Jake made a point to go out and mow his lawn when she was in the garden. he would wave at her and even shout hello sometimes. She would wave back and occasionally bring him over extra vegetables,

calling him neighbor and frequently inviting him over for coffee. Jake always declined. He played a scenario through his head many times where Ewan returned from work to find Jake sitting on the couch next to his beautiful wife. He would be suspicious even if he didn't show it at the time. The last thing Jake wanted was obviously. awkwardness with his only neighbors. He looked through his blinds one day to find Rose tending the garden right on schedule.

He watched her, bent over, packing in some sort of fertilizer. Then she reached forward. Her hand slipped and she fell flat into the brown mulchy substance. She sat up and swatted at her soiled shirt for a moment. Then pulled the shirt straight off, revealing her naked breasts. Jake felt his cheeks go hot and looked away, afraid she would turn and see him. But he quickly found himself looking back. Rose wadded up the shirt and tossed it aside, looked around to see that no one was looking,

then tied her hair back and finished her work topless. Jake couldn't look away. He thought about the image of her bent over in the garden, exposed, unknowing that she was seen for days. He felt guilty first, but rationalized that as long as she didn't know he was looking, there was no true harm. He promised that he would be respectful

and keep his eyes to himself from then on. But days later, he found himself browsing Amazon for binoculars. Bird spotting, he told himself, that's what he would tell his guests, if they saw it and asked. Not that he needed an excuse to own binoculars, but it felt good to have one. The night they arrived, Jake brought them to the window with trembling hands.

He looked across the road into the parson bathroom and watched Rose undress. The window only revealed her from the waist up. He watched as she got into the shower, then dried herself, unaware that this moment was not private. The next night he watched her evening routine again. but this time she was joined by Ewan, who held her from behind and began kissing her neck. This felt truly forbidden. He watched as she pulled his shirt off,

then they moved out of sight into the bedroom, which did not have a window visible from across the street. Jake felt a pang of anger that Ewan would pull her from the view like this, but he was stricken with a larger feeling that he needed to see what happened next. Rose was taken, yes, but Jake had become certain that she was the type of woman he needed, and he needed to know how to please a woman like that. The next day he went for a walk after Ewan left for work. It had been a few months since moving here, but he had yet to explore the surrounding woods. No harm in getting to know the land, he told himself. He followed the road north from both their properties

until the houses were hardly in sight, then crossed the road. He meandered back south, weaving through the trees so as to keep himself covered from sight to the parson home. He stopped about 500 feet from the north side of their home and crouched behind a bush, then produced the binoculars. The bedroom faced north and had massive sliding glass doors leading out to the patio. Excitement rushed through him. He could see the entire.

entire room, every detail from this vantage point. Each picture on the wall, a hamper of laundry with a lacy red braw sitting on top, a large mirror over a dresser opposite the bed. It wasn't long before Rose entered the room and began to fold the laundry, wearing nothing but a silk bathrobe. When she leaned over, he could almost see underneath. Almost. Then she turned to her.

for the patio and looked directly at him. Jake dropped the binoculars. He was wearing forest green and khaki pants. That wouldn't stand out at this distance. Fear remained perfectly still, knowing that any motion could reveal him. After what felt like an hour, he slowly reached the binoculars and looked back out to the bedroom. Rose was fully dressed, chatting away on a video call on her laptop. She hadn't seen him.

He returned to his house, heart pounding, and found himself smiling. Almost being caught had unexpectedly given him such a rush of energy and excitement. He felt more alive than he had in years. Maybe other people felt this all the time. People who weren't depressed. People who didn't have to practice introducing themselves in their rearview mirrors and parking lots. When he returned to the bush later that night, he was pleased to find a rose in you and both slept naked.

Rose massaged wounds back until he fell asleep and crawled into bed next to him and turned out the lights. The next night, Jake watched them make love for the first time. Seeing the muscles down Rose's spine clenched with the effort of straddling, her husband put him into a sort of trance. He was surprised to find how, excited he was to see Ewan's pleasure as well. It began an evening ritual for Jake to join the Parsons from the safety of the forest brush. There was nothing but exposed light bulbs and

boxes in his cave of a house, but through the lenses of his binoculars, he felt he was a part of Rose and Ewan's love. When he returned home, he would drift to sleep, replaying the images in his mind. But in this version, he was a part of his own. He was a part of his life. He was He was Yuan. During the day he found new angles of the house to watch from. He watched Ewan pack a gilly suit to go for a hunt and impulsively ordered one online for himself. Wearing the camouflage, he felt empowered to creep closer at night,

abandoning full cover of the trees and peeking in at his neighbors with even closer to tail. When he was sure they were asleep, he stood directly outside their window. He appreciated the gentle rise and fall of Rose's chest in the moonlight, and the finely-toned curves of Ewan's muscular arms around her. Some nights he would arrive to find the patio curtains drawn and glowing red. Unable to see them, he crept close enough to hear through the glass. The action in the red light sounded different, violent.

Rose's moans of pleasure were familiar, but Ewan sounded. muffled and in pain. Being denied the view infuriated Jake, but he kept coming back. Just as he thought this ritual would lose its luster like all other pleasures in life, the couple would surprise him. Sex was a game of variety for them. To Jake's delight, they would regularly experiment with new toys and positions,

including one night where Ewan pressed his wife up against the glass doors, displaying all of their bodies in a way that was so brazen and reminded him of an autopsy. He was so close when this happened, the binoculars could only capture a small section of their bodies in great detail. He traced them from top to bottom, taking in each movement, each drop of sweat. Then he traced back up and nearly had a heart attack. was looking directly at him, smiling.

Surely she didn't actually see him. He froze in place, terrified to move a muscle. He looked over the top of his binoculars to see her still staring at him. They moved away from the glass back onto the bed and she continued to look at him. A smile of devilish pleasure on her face. Eun seemed not to notice. or not to care. He was still focused on the act at hand.

They continued until Rose finished, her eyes never leaving Jake's, then drew the curtains. The performance was over, but their audience was too scared to clap. Jake trembled in his gilly suit, suddenly feeling like the biggest idiot in the world. They could call the cops on him. He would be put on one of those lists. Lose his job. Or worse, Ewan was a hunter. Jake had seen the man's arsenal.

He had bows and shotguns and rifles enough to arm a militia. He could be loading one right now. The urge to flee came over Jake so strongly that his frozen muscles suddenly burst into flight, unconcerned about stealth. He bolted across the street. street into his house. There was no mistake that she'd seen him. He locked the doors and drew the two curtains that were still open in his dusty cave of a home,

then sat in the centermost hallway in the fetal position on the floor. Assuming that this was the place safest for many bullets that might come flying through the walls, he lay there awake until morning, the image of Rose's smiling face frozen in his mind. He finally heard Ewan's truck depart for work and carefully crept to the hallway room window and peeked through the blinds. Rose was up on the treadmill with headphones on as if nothing had happened. Maybe the eye contact had been a coincidence. It made sense that she would look out the glass door and if anything it would have been difficult to see him.

The lights were on in the bedroom and it was dark outside. So she was probably watching her. reflection. Jade closed the blinds and sunk into his old armchair, letting out a sigh of relief. The breath then caught in his throat. He looked at the coffee table and realized he hadn't put the binoculars back in their spot. He'd left them on the ground outside the parson house. He looked out the window again and saw Rose had moved on to her smoothie. He could sneeze. He out and get to where he left the binoculars before she made it to the garden. Surely she would see them once she was outside.

He went to the back door and snuck out as quietly as he could. Then his foot bumped something. A wicker basket. Inside lay his binoculars. Jake stared at the basket, mind spinning. They knew. He scanned. the woods to see if this was some sort of trap, like a salt block laid out for deer, soon to be

venison. He picked up the basket and took it inside and locked the door behind him. They knew, and they gave it back to him anyway. The gift sent a thousand questions through his head. Did they know all along? Did they want him to look? Was this a threat? He placed the binoculars in the basket on the coffee table and looked out the winter. window again. Rose was in the garden, replacing the old hose with a new one. She didn't look across the street. She simply went along as if nothing unusual had happened at all. Jake did his work in the darkness for the next few days without leaving the house. He didn't look out the windows at all, and felt himself falling deeper and deeper into the hole he had felt before moving from Seattle.

The past weeks of watching the Parsons had made him feel hope. He'd felt that. He'd felt that. He'd felt alive, even though vicariously. It was better than before. Now knowing that they knew, it was like waking from a dream. He became aware of the mess in his house. There was still no more a home than a storage unit. He hadn't done laundry. His bed was just a mattress on the floor with a disassembled frame.

Piles of unread mail addressed to him and the previous tenant lay on the floor next to the door. The sudden clarity of it all weighed on him like a cold lead blanket. He found himself unable to muster the energy to even throw away the trash from his microwave meals. And worst of it all, he felt a deep sense of loss. Not that he ever had anyone or anything that loved him, but for a moment he had felt desire again. Now that was gone. He could have been. He could He could no longer watch from the shadows and be ewan. He was now a participant. He was Jake, the creepy neighbor who was playing to their kink.

Jake suddenly felt like he was the one who had been defiled. Eventually, Jake ran out of food and had to go outside his grocery store. He shielded his eyes from the harsh sunlight and felt fresh air wash over him for the first time in ten days. He put his head down and walked briskly to the car. praying to God that Rose wouldn't see him. Hey, neighbor, Rose's voice felt like ice water dumped down the back of his shirt. He continued to his car, not looking up, and heard footsteps running across the road toward him. He looked up to see Rose, smiling at him with grocery bag in hand, filled with produce from the garden.

He couldn't get himself to look at her for more than a second. He felt his cheeks flush and wished he could just disappear, to the ground. Haven't seen you out for a while. I was starting to worry you were sick or something. Oh, yeah. Just a bit under the weather. He stammered, looking at the ground between them.

Rose laughed in her friendly way. Well, the tomatoes are thriving this year. Usually the critters or rod, I'll take them out by now, but they're still ripe and delicious. I think I finally figured out to really keep them alive. Jake awkwardly reached out and took the bag. Thank you. Of course.

It's a beautiful day, isn't it? It's usually so much more humid this time of summer, but this year's felt like a long spring, she said. Yes, very nice, Jake said. Sorry, you look like you're in a hurry, and here I am just jabbering on about the weather. I'm just excited for tonight, I guess. It's you and's my anniversary.

He always gets me the best gifts at the mention of gifts. He pictured several pieces from their collection of toys that had rolled under the bed and were visibly gathering dust. Congratulations, Jake said, glancing up for a brief moment. He was waiting for her to acknowledge the binoculars, but she just told him to feel better soon and jogged back over to her house as if nothing had happened between them. By the time Jake reached the grocery store parking lot, his forms burned from gripping the wheel so tightly. He took deep breaths to try and slow his pounding. heart, and when he went inside, he made no attempts to practice introducing himself to anyone.

She mentioned the anniversary to entice him to watch again. He was sure of it. She must have been waiting for him to leave the house to come and tell him that, and it all happened so fast. Then he felt it again. That flicker of life. Desire. He had promised himself not to look again.

He didn't want this to be an accident. acknowledged relationship with his neighbors. But curiosity took hold of him, and that night he felt himself moving without thinking, as if on autopilot, toward the window. At 11 p.m., he looked across the street at the Parson House. It was completely dark, except for one deep red light in the bedroom. It poured into the hallway and living room, illuminating Rose's naked form in the window. She was looking across the room.

the street, a pair of opera glasses raised to her eyes on a thin rod. She lowered the tiny binoculars and gazed at him. Jake pulled the binoculars from the wicker basket. He lifted them to his eyes and looked at rose. She smiled at him, tracing her fingers along the curves of her body, then turned and walked into the bedroom. She reached one hand back into the hallway, lit with a deep crimson light and gestured with her finger for him to follow. Jake obeyed. He put on his boots without tying them and crossed the street. He wandered back to his peeping spot on the north side of the house and looked through

the glass doors into the bedroom. The room was covered in rose petals, light coming from somewhere over the dresser. Rose lay on the bed with one hand moving through her hair. The other between her legs. Her eyes were closed. That was the last thing Jake saw. By the time he realized there was someone behind him, Ewaner grabbed him by the neck with one hand

and forced a rag over his face with the other. Jake gasped in a chemical stench, then fell into blackness. The first thing he noticed when he woke was the taste of rubber. He tried to swallow, then realized he couldn't. There was something in his mouth. He tried to reach up to his mouth, but found that his arms could not move. He was wrapped in something, impressed against wood on all sides.

I'm in a coffin, he thought. She buried me alive. Too afraid to open his eyes, he began to hyperventilate, then gagged. He could feel the foreign object in his mouth, some, type of hose, rubbing deep inside his chest below the sternum. He fought to keep himself calm, his sense is returning. The stench of urine, sweat, and feces below him burned his nostrils. He felt a dozen nylon straps binding him tightly from head to toe. The coarse edges had already rubbed his naked skin raw. Then he realized there was light coming through his clenched eyelids.

Not buried, he thought, though it brought him little comfort. He slowly. He slowly. He slid. He Slowly opened his eyes to find he was positioned upright. Inside rose in Ewan's bedroom. He tried to look around, but his head was tied so tightly he could only look straight forward. It was definitely their room. The bat was neatly made and bathed in morning light from the large patio doors, but no sign of the couple. He let out a whimper, and the room in front of them became blurry.

He was buying glass. His mind spun as he regained his bearings. He was behind the dresser mirror across the room from the foot of their bed. Inside the wall. He found himself unable to even kick and thrash. The straps around his chest dug into him so tightly that he could only take short shallow breaths. Each movement sent stinging pain across his skin. He slowed his breathing, tears streaming down his face and listened.

Footsteps somewhere in the house. The sound of the blinder. Silence. Then, to his horror, something else moved in the walls beside him. He felt the wooden stud bore to his right flex and heard a muffled groan. There was a straining of nylon straps against the wood. Then a gurgling sound. Jake turned his eyes to the right and saw in the backside of the mirror the ghostly reflection of an old man next to him.

He was bound in the same. way. His long beard twisted through the straps restricting his head, and what looked like a garden hose led from his mouth to somewhere up above. His eyes stared ahead, unfeeling. Jake's scream, only mustering short bursts of sounds. The footsteps moved to the floor above him. He heard a small metal door slide open overhead, a short blast of fresh air, air-conditioned The air cooled the sweat on his skin and he realized how hot it was. There was a shuffling of a plastic container and then the sound of fluid being poured. The old man next to Jake moaned and gurgled.

Then Jake felt the cool garden smoothie passed through his own hose and into his stomach. He felt the faint hint of citrus and leafy greens. But all he could taste was waxy rubber. He attempted to scream for hours until his vocal cords were shot. In the afternoon, Rose entered the bedroom and changed out of her workout clothes. She walked to the two-way mirror, just inches away from Jake's face and put on her lipstick, staring at him without seeing him, as if she didn't know he was even there. Jake tried to thrash, tried to cry out to her, but his strength and voice were both gone.

When Ewing came home later, they made love as they had countlessness. nights before, and Jake watched from behind the glass, wishing more than anything he could look away. Afterwards, they lay naked in each other's arms. Happy anniversary, Ewan told his wife, he kissed her forehead. Did you like your present? Rose kissed Ewan then rolled over to pull a small remote from the nightstand drawer. She pointed it at the mirror and pressed her. a button. A bright red light turned on inside the wall, illuminating the bound men through the mirror and causing Jake to squint.

The Parsons looked at them as if they were watching a particularly nice sunset. I love it, she said. Jake watched them fall asleep in the red light. For weeks he fought and screamed. He wanted to die. But each day Rose would pull. pour nutrients into him like she were watering a plant in her garden. Then eventually, like the old man next to him, the flight left him.

And like he had always done, he simply watched. For your bonus episode, Creepy Presents, Let Me In, written by Jamie Ann and narrated by Nate Dufort. When we are young, our imaginations run wild. We dream up fantastic images from movies and stories we see in here. However, what happens when we grow up and we still see images? We thought were make-believe. I was a happy and adventurous kid. I loved playing outside, roasting ants with my magnifying glass,

building dirt forts for my G.I. Joes and riding my Navy-Jose, and riding my navy blue BMX mongoose bike. If the sun was out, so was I. I lived in a small neighborhood that didn't have many kids my age. You could say I became accustomed to playing alone. My mom would occasionally bring out lemonade and draw chalk designs on the ground with me. It was all so perfect until one stormy night in June.

It was the summer I turned 12 years. old. My grandmother had passed away, and my dad had to move a bunch of boxes from her house into our attic. The boards were creaky and slightly unstable. I was not allowed to play up there, but come on, do you think a 12-year-old boy could resist an adventure? When mom and dad would get busy with computer or yard work, I would creep up the stairs and explore the attic. I'd pretend I was a pirate looking for treasure. With wooden sword by my side, I would fend off fellow seagowers. Then I would take over their ships.

Ah, those were good times, until I accidentally knocked a boxover of my grandmother's things. I froze and waited for my parents to yell at the sound of the commotion. When all was quiet, and I knew I was safe, I quickly began to gather the belongings. I carefully put them back in the box. There were some old dusty black and white photos, some musty-smelling clothes,

and then something intriguing caught my eye. A small box with rope wrapped around it several times. There's a black wax seal with a face that looked like an octopus, or Cthulhu-like, holding the rope in place. I picked the box up and began to inspect it. Just then, Mom yelled that it was time for dinner. I shoved a small box in my shirt and quietly crept down the attic stairs. I ran to my room and tossed the box under my bed.

As we were eating dinner, I asked my dad how Graham died. Both my parents put their forks down and looked at one another. My dad cleared his throat, and then said that she started acting a little strange in her old age. Her dementia made her see shadows that weren't really there. Mom grabbed Dad's hand, and he stopped talking for a few seconds. After an awkward moment of silence, Dad continued his story. He said that Graham tripped late one night and fell down the stairs,

and that was how she died. I felt sad for poor Graham. I never knew she was having mental problems. I spent many weekends with her, and she was always so nice to me, making me cookies and sewing up the holes in my socks. She would tell me all about her life and what it was like growing up in the 40s. She only ever got upset with me if I turned a light off. Graham was obsessed with having every light on in the house at all times.

She would mumble phrases about light being in the light. the only safety we need in this life. I finished my dinner and asked if I could go to my room, and before my parents had a chance to answer, I was running up the stairs. I had to know what was in that box from Graham's house. I quietly closed my door and stationed my desk chair in front of it. I knelt beside my bed and pulled the box out from its hiding place. I tried to pull the rope off, but it would not budge. I grabbed the scissors and began to cut it till I was able to pull the tabs of the box apart.

I held my breath and slowly peeked inside the box and found a note inside. I exhaled, feeling disappointed that there was no secret treasure. The note was folded in a perfect rectangle with words that read, Do not open.

I, of course, open the note, although, looking back, I wish I hadn't. On the inside of the note, there were more words, words that were not written in English. I sat there looking at the letters and thought it was stupid that the front of the note was legible, and the inside was not recognizable. I grabbed my tablet and did a search on Google. I typed the exact letters from the note and hit the translate button. I read the translation, out loud, within the darkness, I can see. A friend of mine you will be.

Let me in, and we become one. Forever binded for endless fun. Deny me, and havoc shall follow. Alone you'll be till the last breath you swallow. As I read the last words, the power went out in the entire house. I looked up at my bedroom light, and then back down at the tablet in my hands. The screen went dark. I held the power button, but it wouldn't turn back on.

I yelled for my mom. and she came straight to my door. She attempted to open the door, but couldn't because I had a chair in the way. I rushed over and moved the chair and mom came in. I asked what happened to the power, and she said a storm was coming in, and that the wind was raging outside.

Dad yelled from downstairs that we may be without power for a few hours. She went to my closet and grabbed a flashlight and turned it on. I was blinded by the instant light in the darkness. She handed me the light, and she went into the hall closet to get candles. I sat on my bed with the flashlight in my hand. I was feeling a little confused about what the poem meant. My flashlight started to blink on and off a few times, till it went out for good.

Must need new batteries, I thought, as I ran down the stairs to the kitchen. I got the new batteries installed and decided to make the most of the power outage. I grabbed some leftover plastic cups from the pantry and brought them to my room. I set them up in a pyramid structure and grabbed my Nerf gun to shoot them down. My darts hit the cups, and they began to scatter everywhere. I began restacking them. Some rolled under my bed, and I couldn't reach them all. I grabbed a hanger from off the floor of my closet.

and started to hit the cup so they would roll out. Just then, the candle flame by my side blew out, and my room went dark. The hangar was pulled from my hand. I jumped back and sat on the floor against the wall. A cup came rolling out towards me. I jumped to my feet and ran out of the room. My dad met me in the hall, and I ran straight into him. I breathlessly told him what happened, and he said it was just a draft that blew the candle out.

He walked me back to my room and relit the candle. He then bent down beside the bed. I closed my eyes in fear of what would happen. A loud clattering noise arose. He grabbed my arm, and I shouted and pulled away from him. I opened my eyes and saw that he was holding the cups and looking at me, with a worried look on his face. I stood against the wall,

looking at my dad, and then back at my bed. He walked closer to me, and rubbed the top of my head and laughed. I started to smile, feeling a bit foolish. I guess I was being a little jumpy. I put the cups away

and decided to go sit by the fireplace in the living room. As I turned to leave the room, the candle flame blew out, again. My pace quickened as I made my way down the stairs. Mom came in with hot cocoa, and we sat and watched the fire and listened to the rainfall. She began reading a book about space exploration out loud. After a while, my eyes began to grow heavy, and she noticed me yawning. She closed the book and said it was time for bed. I asked her if I could sleep in the love seat in her room that night, and she looked at me in complete surprise.

She smiled and nodded her head in agreement. It had been years since I slept in the same room as my parents. That was the last night I would sleep an entire night through. The power was still out in the morning. The rain came down unceasingly. I watched out the window as the lightning flashed, and the deafening sound of thunder followed. Mom and Dad were still sleeping soundly.

I went to my room and sat down on my bed. I grabbed my tablet and attempted to turn it back on. Luckily, the screen lit up. I opened my art app and got my stylus out. I started to draw a picture of a pirate ship on the ocean. As I started drawing the rolling waves, my mind went blank. My hand was aimlessly drawing on the screen. A loud crashing noise came from the yard.

It snapped me out of my dazed state. I looked out at the window at a huge branch that lay broken on the ground. I looked back down at my tablet, and the entire screen was colored in the darkest shade of red with something black in the center. I brought my face closer to the picture to inspect it and to my whore I saw what looked like two dark gray eyes peering at me. I didn't draw this, though.

I looked at the image for a few minutes, and when I zoomed in to see the eyes even closer, they blinked. Startled I threw the tablet to the end of my bed, almost tripping. I ran out of my room and down the stairs to the kitchen. I spent the rest of that day hiding from my room. and tablet. That day seemed to drag on and on, and I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling I was having.

Day two, and the power was still out. My dad put several flashlights and candles around my room. I felt scared to be in my room. I closed my eyes and began counting sheep in my head until my body gave in to rest. I woke in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and feeling thirsty. I reached for the water beside my bed.

I noticed all the flashlights were off and the candles were not lit. I grabbed the nearest flashlight and flicked the on button. It didn't work. I got up to get the other one on my dresser. I thought I could see a faint shadow in the corner. I focused my eyes, but it was too dark to be sure. I grabbed the other flashlight and flipped it on. I pointed it towards the corner, but nothing was there.

The hairs on the back of my neck were tingling as if someone was breathing on me. I turned quickly with the light shining, but again, nothing was there. I truly must be losing it. I grabbed my water, took a gulp, and went back to sleep. For months after that, I had terrible nightmares that would wake me every night. I begged Mom for a nightlight to keep my room lit at night. Other times, I would wake to feeling something touching my hand or sitting on my bed. I could feel it watching me all the time, all night long.

I would see a shadow in the corner and shine my flashlight, but nothing would be there. I would hear tiny whispers in my ears saying, let me in. I told myself that it all must be a dream. When school started, I found myself daydreaming in class. I felt safer sleeping in the daytime away from my room. Of course, my teachers didn't like it, and I received conduct marks often. Luckily, I made good grades, so I was not punished severely for my lack of attentiveness. I learned to ignore my imagination in the evenings, telling myself it's not real over and over.

Sometimes, I even believed it. Six months after Graham died, I woke in the middle of the morning, my nightlight turned off yet again. I reached for it, but it was not plugged in. I sat up in bed and looked around. I waited for my eyes to adjust it to the darkness when I heard a familiar sound. The insidious whisper saying, Let me in. My skin began to crawl and it chilled down my spine. I opened my mouth to yell for help, but no sound would come out.

I felt wet appendages slithering on my face. It held my mouth shut and smelled like a sweaty gym bag. I grabbed the flashlight from under my pillow and shined it on my face. The thing let out a screech and pulled away from my face. I attempted to run out of the room, but my door slammed shut. As I reached the door, the entity wrapped its slimy grip around my legs, gripping tighter and tighter the more I struggled.

The whisper changed and sounded angry as it repeated, Let me in. I passed out for me. fright. In the morning, I woke with a pounding headache. I was on the floor. I looked down at my aching legs. There were dark bruise marks and oozing pus streaks around my ankle. I ran to my parents' room to show them. My father ran to my room and started rummaging through it like a madman. He saw nothing out of the ordinary inside my closet. He then bent down and reached under my bed, pulling something out.

I covered my eyes. Holding a jump rope in his hand, he yelled for me to open my eyes and asked if I thought this was funny. Mom looked down at me and told me my foolish pranks would come to an end right now. Less than a week later,

I was sitting in a room with a therapist who asked if I wanted to draw my feelings. I told her about the creature, lurking in the dark. I could tell that she didn't believe me. Sometimes our mind plays tricks on us to deal with sadness or anger. She said the words in a voice that was as condescending as the look on her face. Everyone around me thought I was crazy. I thought about Graham and how I opened the box from her house. How stupid I was to translate that note. This was all my fault. I understand unleashed some demon with that incantation. It occurred to me that this thing may have been what

killed my gram. I couldn't let that happen to me. That night, I decided to try a different approach. I waited till mom and dad went to bed. I brought my pillow and blanket downstairs. I pushed the sofa closer to the fireplace. The fire brought the perfect amount of light to the room. I could see in all the corners that there was only a two-inch gap under the couch. I felt completely safe. I watched as the fire danced on the logs and hypnotized my eyes until I fell asleep. I was woken suddenly to the sound of loud crashing and pounding coming from upstairs. My parents' screams followed. I jumped to my feet and ran towards the fireplace to grab the firepoker. I flipped the hall light on and hurried up the stairs. My parents' door was broken open.

I rushed through the door and saw something dark and large on my father's body. It had a tentacle shoved down my dad's throat and more appendages holding him down. It was sucking the life out of him. I hit the creature, and it screeched so loud and recoiled its appendage from my dad's mouth. I hit it again and again until it slithered its way under my parents' bed. I knelt next to my dad and begged him to wake up. I watched as he drew his last breath. I began sobbing uncontrollably. I looked across the room and saw my mother sitting against the wall.

motionless. I ran to her and held her tightly in my arms. I called 911, and the ambulance and and police showed up shortly after. I couldn't answer any questions that I was being asked. I just cried and stared at my parents. My hands and PJs were covered in their blood. The cops blamed me for the death of my parents. After months in a juvenile facility, I met in front of a judge and jury of 12 strangers who sentenced me to life in a high-security psychiatric hospital. Every day I was haunted by the images of my parents' dead bodies. Every night, I was hunted by the creature that whispered me in.

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