Everything is real, at least for me.
When I was young I used to watch a lot of horror movies. I was never afraid of them. The simple reason for that is that I could always find logical ways to survive these movies, because everything on earth follows a set of rules. That of course was what I believed, until I met her.
As I grew my love for storytelling and writing developed and over time I was actually kind of good at it. That’s where the problem started. You see, as I started writing horror, I found myself thinking more and more about horror. What would really scare me?
Could it be some disfigured old woman crawling up and down my walls, or maybe she would appear in front of me and then disappear. Maybe she would always be standing right behind me and then not be there when I turned around.
Then I added detail to her
She has a hole in the middle of her head. Her bones are broke, however she can still walk upright with every movement making a bone crunching noise. Her eyes are milky white and her skin is frail and wrinkled.
This disfigured old woman often popped into my mind. She was a figment of my imagination but she was constant. When I woke up late at night I would imagine she was crawling over the wall like a centipede. When I was alone I would imagine her walking around the house, never letting me spot her, always letting me hear her. When I would leave for work early in the morning I would imagine her crawling on the tree’s. Until I stopped imagining her.
Not by choice
I stopped imagining her because she was real. The sounds were real, the sights were real, the feeling of her breathing down my neck was real and she was all too real.
Everytime I’m alone, she pops up, everytime I walk in darkness, she’s there. She wants to kill me, but she’s always a second too slow. So when I rush to turn the light on, her fingers graze my neck or when I lock my front door behind me, she’s running towards it with her broken body.
The truth is I don’t know when I stopped imagining and started being afraid. I don’t know If it was the first time I felt her presence or the first time I started being afraid. I don’t know if I ever really imagined her or I let myself believe it was my imagination for so long, simply because her being real was too much for me to handle.
Regardless she’s everywhere and according to my mind, there’s no rules to escape her, the moment I’ll look away she’ll attack. Could it be now or maybe I’ll escape her long enough for her to do it tomorrow.
So I’m writing this with one eye on my phone and one eye on her. Standing right in front of me, staring at me, waiting for me to look away so she can attack. Please God, let it be my imagination.