In my story, it will be hard to believe, I know because I lived it and I doubt myself. Since then, I feel that sanity is no longer part of my character. Not only did they force me to believe that I was crazy, but fear really made the unhealthiness of my soul unstable.
From the beggining
There are few healthy moments left for me now, because the medicines, which I am obliged to take, leave me in a complete state of lethargy and indisposition. If I were old, my body would not be able to withstand the torture conditions by which I am violated. I know that the being will return for me, now I just have to wait, but the only thought that tortures me is that I will die young.
These cells do not give me any protection, they just prevent me from running away.
LEIA AQUI EM PORTUGUÊS!!
The Old House
I used to live in an old house, inherited by my ancestors. My uncle received the house in my grandparents’ will, but he thought it was unfair that I couldn’t live in it, because he knew that I idolized the house and its memories.
He was always a good man, he worked in the psychiatric field as an important man. Once he took me to the hospital where he worked, I hardly knew that such a prison would be my undoing.
The place smelled of mold, the floor creaked and seemed to have dust impregnated in the furniture, but above all, it was extremely cozy.
There I was born. There I had grown up.
I amused myself by running on its wide and wide walkways, tired of skinning myself by running in my mother’s flower garden. Mother had a huge and beautiful garden, in my small mind, is just a child, I thought that the garden had all the specimens of plants ever discovered by science.
The yard looked like a hue, it was so colorful.
It held Petunias, Roses, Chinese Lanterns, Alliums, Angelics, Azaleas, Camellias, Lilies, Milk glasses, Bougainvilleas, Dandelions, Mallows, Geraniums, some herbs for tea and spices. There were countless flowers, a really beautiful garden. But unfortunately, the last time I skinned myself was given to something else, not just a joke, but running from the nightmare that terrified my life.
This tragic misfortune marked my fragile ego, like a red-hot iron burning human skin. It was my habit, as a child, to sit in front of the window and read during stormy afternoons. I got home from school, went to my room and finished the task as quickly as I went downstairs to read.
The night that such an event took place was so dark and cloudy that I doubted the existence of stars. The room was relatively bright, lit by a small lamp and the light from the rays outside, although the lack of lighting did not cause any major inconvenience. My parents worked late, it was not common for me to be afraid of being alone. But on this particular night, I wish they had arrived earlier.
The dusty room remained as impassive as the rain, the dark mahogany furniture perfumed the room with a worn and woody smell, the old carpet exhausted from its function, nothing more than accumulating dust, slid at the slightest touch of a distracted passerby.
The lights on the crochet lamp further reduced the mood in the room, lightning descending from the sky like a beam of golden light that brightened the dark corners. The rocking chair on the edge creaked, partly because of my weight and partly because of its age, the backrest retained a large part of my memories.
My grandparents used to sit on it to tell me stories. And then, my parents started doing it too. It was these small factors that made the room, by far, the best and my favorite of the rooms, also the stage of my most pleasant memories.
I was casually reading one of the novels I kept in my closet. The chair continued to creak, my feet tapped on the old floor and barely made a sound. The storm made a relatively loud noise, which was no different from the stones being thrown on the roof and the window. The crash of the storm had a distinctive sound, but a noise caught my attention for its exasperated proximity. Something had hit the wall of the house.
I thought it was a disoriented animal or even a branch that was knocked over by the wind. I resumed my reading without haste. But even so, my concentration was diverted to the window. I adjusted myself in the chair, which in turn made a sharp noise in protest of my sudden movement.
I stared at the drops, they ran wistfully through the foggy glass, the view was not what I would call clear, but I saw enough to know that there was an animal in the yard. Then I caught a glimpse of something entering the bush of my mother’s proud Chinese Lanterns.
I was not surprised, because the entrance of dogs in the land was frequent. It was starting to get late. The clock already struck 21:00. I decided to lie down. I approached the lamp near the window and turned off the light. I walked apprehensively and slowly to the kitchen, I could be sure it was a dog, I had almost absolutely sure.
But what if it wasn’t? That question disturbed me.
I took the milk bottle from the first shelf in the pantry, sipped it, it was warm, it looked sour. I shrugged and went back to sipping, walked towards the exit, also turning off the kitchen lights.
I still wonder why I was so stupid!
I could have just turned around and headed for the bedroom! But not! I stayed and stared at the window for a few more seconds. Seconds that terrified me, traumatized me and made me lose what I was proud to call sanity!
The damn window! Deep in my soul, I knew it was not a dog. But even so, I stayed to look at what it was! What I saw cannot be described! A pair of eyes, in the middle of the thin grass of the unplanted part of the garden.
But not just any pair of eyes!
They were yellow, eyes yellow like the cover of an old book and corroded by time! They were empty and anyone with flames like that could call themselves a hierophant, wizard! I soon succumbed to the deepest and bestial despair!
I froze, I just couldn’t move, not with those animal eyes hovering over me!
Soon these abominable viewpoints disappeared. They probably succumbed back to the darkness they came from! I stood at the doorframe, the panic was stronger than me. I soon got out of my shock and ran out of the kitchen, dropping the milk bottle on the floor which broke in broken glass. The stairs seemed endless. I grabbed the handrail, but it just helped me keep my hand full of splinters.
I finally reached the second floor. I staggered in terror to my room, opened the door. I entered. In my rooms, I could feel safe, my refuge. There was a small room with my bathroom, where I kept a small collection of books and some clothes. I locked myself in the modest little room.
Thinking that I might be safe, I fell asleep under one of the drawers. I woke up with an extremely penetrating and intense crash, I didn’t dare move. I heard a roar, a high-pitched, terrible cry, which could only have been exclaimed by an excruciating being in his suffering caused by a thousand demons!
A sound of deep pain!
Caused by the most infamous scourge!
I believed that such a scornful noise could only have originated from a more than profane creature. I have never infringed on myself so many frivolous and immoral thoughts. I was so frightened that I scratched my own arms until they bled, I heard the footsteps of the thing approaching.
It was getting closer and closer. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest and the bitter taste of vomit that rose in small refluxes, burning my throat. Something burst through the door of my room, I heard another noise and the same terrifying growl, louder now, due to the proximity that the mouthful was in the small room.
I heard the stranger stop by the door and see his bones. The dry skin pulled out, so tight that his bones seemed to arch out. Her skin was as pale as a corpse. And your pop it in one stroke! I was static, intuition spoke louder than panic.
I didn’t dare move a muscle.
There I was, huddled, with the creature standing before me … May God have his soul! It was as horrendous as your eyes. Thin to the point of eyes, as if they could be made more despicable, pushed back deep into their sockets. It exuded death, decomposition. Even the memory still makes me tremendously disgusted.
My state of torpor prevented me from thinking clearly, but I was able to think enough to realize that the beast saw only movements, like a wendigo (a creature from North American mythology, known for being humans corrupted by cannibalism).
I then waited for the creature to leave the room. It didn’t take long for him to leave soon, despite leaving a trail of broken glass wherever he went since he seemed unclear about the use of doors. I waited for a while, to make sure I didn’t come back.
I got up from the floor, my desperate hindrance to flee was so great that I didn’t notice the metal trash that hit the floor with a loud noise. Finally, I was able to leave the room. It was no longer in his field of vision.
I looked at my room, it seemed empty. I slid to the doorway that connected it to the hall. The walkway was also safe. My fear was that the creature’s description would mix with my distraction and end in catastrophe. It seemed to have evolved to kill, apart from its vision, which seemed to be extremely limited. He was almost blind. The beast moved with frightening speed, it was extremely strong and above all, it was surprisingly intelligent.
It seemed to have made a strategy to isolate myself in the room and then attack. It seemed to be rational, taking the fact that of his violence. I assumed the beast was anthropophagous, nobody feeds on animals and stinks of rotting human flesh.
I went down the stairs trying to stay close to the wall and away from the edges, afraid that his claws would grab my ankle. I still felt a strong heartbeat in my chest. I was sliding down the wall without any major problems until my rust-colored hair got caught in something.
I tried to detach myself from whatever was holding him back. I was doing it hard. I caught a glimpse of yellow eyes through my bedroom window. Panic came over me, I tried to pull the rust streaks out of the nail. I had done it. But the being lay too close, I couldn’t move. Or he would end up dead.
The dusty and stuffy environment, because of the rain, made breathing more difficult. I stopped to think, heard the drumming of the grotesque creature’s immense claws. He was getting closer and closer, he could almost feel his breath and the rot of his breath. The smell of a corpse took over the room, I had the urge to throw up, but I stopped myself.
One wrong move and my throat would be mutilated.
My chances were few and small, but they still existed and I would try even if I died in the process. I didn’t know how I would run out without him reaching me. I felt his leather brush against my clothes, he definitely made me sick.
The moment seemed to last forever, I was already bothered by having such a despicable creature as the one near me. As if that weren’t enough, I felt something cold and damp touch and move over my cheekbones. The creature had literally salivated in me.
It was enough.
I felt a scream rise up my throat, taking the creature by surprise and I let out a scream of pure fear and scorn. Tears streamed down my face and wet my pajamas. The creature’s sudden split caused me astonishment that I ran to the bottom of the stairs. And as if in an adrenaline rush, I threw my book out the window, a beautiful copy of the tales from the north, really a waste.
Analyzing the situation as it was, in fact, the creature was really similar to one of the bestial mentions in the book. The wendigo, but I never got to recover the book after that night, let alone read something about ‘him’. The cold entered the house, the biting wind hit me like small pocket knives thrown with extreme force.
The rain made my escape more difficult, my vision was blurred, there was absolutely no light source. Only the rays, which cut through the clouds like glowing arrows.
I was afraid of my own home garden, the branches of my mother’s flowers and bushes made the situation even more desperate. They looked like claws scratching my arm. Why is this happening to me? I stopped to breathe and crying plagued my courage. I went into shock again when I heard the window burst completely. I could see broken glass flying close enough to hurt me, I ran and sought shelter in the trees.
I leaned against an oak. Trying to stay as close to the gate as possible.
He could hear a mixture of heavy breathing and a hiss. The thing was going the opposite way from mine. I thought that when the being was far enough away I might have a chance to escape. The grass was damp,
I felt my bare toes intertwine in its viscosity. It was a calming sensation.
The breeze was blowing, now weaker. Like that cold wind at the end of seasonal afternoons. The rain was more like a light drizzle. The fact that the only lighting was that of the moon made everything a little darker.
The house was also unlit, giving a truly astonishing impression to those who did not know it by day. In the summer the house used to be full, the family came for the holidays. Each room had a family member, cousins, uncles, and even distant relatives, who we only know when they are decadently old.
I miss happy days, in the place where I live now the only thing I hear are screams from people as insane as I am, in cells as cold and tortuous as mine …
But still not as lonely as I am.
The creature was already far enough away. The street was no more than a hundred meters from the main gate. I knew I could do it. For a moment the grass slipped under my feet, but there was no problem, as they would be replaced by rocks as soon as I arrived in the parking lot. My feet ached, small incisions were made with each meter covered by the degraded sole.
I was almost at the gate.
It was made of iron, large and mostly old. He had held a huge copper padlock in his lock, which could only be opened with the key. Which was at home, in the first drawer of the mahogany drawer next to the rocking chair in front of the window, which now lay in pieces on the well-kept grass in my backyard.
I was stuck.
I thought of using it, but he knew that the four meters were not as easy to cross as they looked.
No heart resist
My heart began to pound when I heard footsteps behind me, such was my panic that I climbed the gate in a few jumps. There were multiple cuts, scrapes, lacerations, and splinters spread over my body, now it also had a purple acquired during the descent of the gate. Finding myself on the other side, I ran out into the street, hoping that I would find a policeman or even a fireman.
At the time, it had not occurred to me that people would be surprised to hear such an absurd story and not only treat me like crazy but exile me from their little “perfect society”.
When I finally met an officer, I told him my story. I was obviously treated like crazy. Joham, the officer, referred me to the police station.
Where I had to wait for my parents to arrive, as minors could not be admitted without the parents signing a document confirming the insanity of their child.
At first, I didn’t think my parents would be able to do that. Nowadays I have only the memory of their faces, the old house, the scene of such a horrendous story, my mother’s flower garden or even well-kept books like mine. Once in the psychiatric hospital where I was locked up, I discovered my abyss, madness!
The fact that nobody believes me!
And with regret I say she will return for me!
This time I won’t have a chance!
Why did the beast come for me?
Do not know.
The abyss, the worst feeling that anyone can experience is that you are sure of something and it falls apart in front of you! As was the case with me, I was quite sure that monsters did not exist. That fell apart before me.
Maybe I’m insane.
Maybe I’m completely crazy.
However, since, in the mental asylum in which I was incarcerated, I have neither the right nor the properly treated water, I do not think I can say which concept of insanity fits me. I just hope to survive another night.