I don’t know if I’m writing this as a warning, a cry for help, or all of the above at once. All I know is that I need to share my experience.
My name is Alex, and recently, I embarked on a journey to forget the past. I guess we all want to forget something, don’t we? I’m 26 years old, I live in Kansas, and I’m a small-scale agricultural producer. Lately, my biggest problem, however, has been Emily, my ex-girlfriend. Not that I have any problem with her; she’s not the type who can’t accept a breakup, stalks me, or anything like that. Our relationship was perfect. And I think that’s what makes things worse. We never fought, but due to some personal factors (which I reserve the right not to share), we had to end our relationship. It was horrible; neither of us wanted it, but we both realized it was what needed to be done.
I spent the next two months in total decline. I had never had a drop of alcohol, but after that, I drank almost every weekend. I lost count of how many times I drunkenly called her, and I know it hurt her. So, in order to help both of us through this process, I decided to seek out an experimental therapy that promised to erase difficult memories. I was convinced that I could only move forward if I forgot Emily, convinced that I couldn’t love again while she still haunted my thoughts.
I drove to the clinic, and I confess I was surprised. The spam in my email made me think that place was a psychiatric office or something, but instead, there was a varnished wooden house, with dreamcatchers on the doors and a strong smell of incense. “Damn,” I thought. “Hippie therapy?” But, as I was already there and entitled to a free session, I decided to go in anyway.
I entered and was immediately greeted by a woman, wearing a black cloak and dark facial paintings, her blonde hair braided in intricate patterns. She led me to the room, a cubicle lit by a single candle, and began inducing relaxation with scents. The therapy itself was a mixture of meditation, thought channeling, and an esoteric element that I couldn’t fully understand. A small, red, shiny thing, almost like a pill, was given to me to consume. I don’t know what that was, but it left an electric taste in my mouth. After that, she recommended that I come back whenever I felt bad about Emily, and then we would do it again.
After the session, I left the clinic with a strange feeling. Part of me was hopeful that I could finally overcome the relationship and move on with my life. But there was a small voice inside me, a feeling of unease that I couldn’t ignore.
In the following days, I tried to convince myself that the treatment was working. Memories of Emily began to fade slowly, as if being erased from my mind. I felt lighter, freer, as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. But as the memories disappeared, a terrible and growing thing began to creep into my mind. Disturbing nightmares haunted my nights; I saw some moments from the past, but… distorted, strange…
I woke up sweating, heart pounding, unable to distinguish reality from dream. On the first night, I dreamt that Emily had died and I found myself with her parents at the funeral. I woke up desperate and called her. She thought I was drunk, and I don’t blame her. Things only got worse in the following days. Fleeting flashbacks assaulted me when I least expected, moments of happiness with Emily now turned into distorted images, tragically modified: Our first date, at the movies, this time with the theater catching fire and her getting trapped inside; the trip we took together to the beach, where the waves dragged her to the bottom of the sea; and even the simple act of holding her hands was now replaced by the sensation of sinking into quicksand, unable to escape.
Gradually, my sanity dwindled, I stopped sleeping, until a week later I decided to visit the clinic again. But when I got there, I found the clinic closed, the windows covered with dark curtains, and the door locked. A sense of despair flooded me as I tried to understand what was happening. I circled around to the back of the building and gently pulled one of the curtains, revealing the dark interior of the building. It wasn’t empty: the mysterious therapist, sitting in front of a dark wooden table, surrounded by candles that illuminated her face sinisterly. I was about to knock on the window when my phone vibrated, making me jump back. I picked up the device: it was a message from Emily.
“Look Alex, I thought we were going to end things on good terms. I even understand you drinking and calling from time to time, but can you not stay here?”
I replied with just a “?”.
“What’s up, Alex? I didn’t expect this from you. I almost had a heart attack when I saw you in the backyard, and what the hell is with the sinister smile and all?”
“Emily, what are you talking about?”
“Look, this thing of sending messages without moving is a good trick, was that what you wanted to hear? Please Alex, don’t make me call the police.”
I didn’t understand almost anything…
“Look Emy, I’m in a cabin in the woods right now, I’m coming there, don’t open the door, okay?”
I looked into the house one more time through the window: this time, nothing, no woman or candles, all silent. I ran to my car and sped towards Emily’s house. What was happening? My heart raced as I drove down the dark road, the sun had already set. My mind was clouded with a mixture of worry and confusion. What had I experienced? Had that therapy had any side effects on my ex-girlfriend too? Was it like a reverse ‘love spell’?
As the city lights disappeared in the rearview mirror, I found myself immersed in my own thoughts, trying to fit at least one piece in this tangled mess. When I finally arrived at Emily’s house, I saw the faint light from inside illuminating the closed curtains. I ran across the lawn to the door, banging on it hard as I called her name. There was no response. With my heart in my throat, I tried the doorknob. The door was locked.
Desperate, I began to shout Emily’s name, begging her to open the door. That’s when I heard a click. She opened the door, her silhouette with long black hair appeared.
“Emily, what - “
I was interrupted by a slap on the face.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She asked me with a mixture of anger and fear in her voice.
I rubbed my face.
“What’s going on? You send me a message out of nowhere and then hit me?”
“As if you didn’t do anything,” that last word didn’t actually come from her mouth. She stopped in the middle of the sentence, her eyes widened, looking at something behind me, and then pulled me inside, closing the door with the latch. I took a deep breath, trying to understand what was happening. I looked through the crack in the curtain, seeing only the darkness of the night beyond the closed door. Emily was visibly nervous, her body tense, her eyes still wide and tears forming on her face.
“What’s happening, Emily? Why are you acting like this?” I asked, trying to control my own confusion and worry.
“Can’t you see him?” she whispered frantically, pointing outside.
I looked and could only see the dark lawn, with the streetlights partially illuminating its surface.
“See who, Emily? There’s no one out there,” I replied, perplexed by the situation.
She stepped back a few steps, still keeping her eyes fixed on the door.
“He… He’s out there, Alex. I swear. I… I thought it was you, but… it’s not. He looks so much like you,” she murmured, her voice trembling with fear.
“Hey, calm down, have you been drinking too?” I approached, but she quickly grabbed her phone, opening her gallery.
“Can you see him here?”
My legs trembled when I saw the image. It was obviously from earlier today, the sun must have been setting at the time, a faint orange light shining over her backyard. But what really sent shivers down my spine was the human figure in the center of the frame. It was as if someone was there, looking at her, and worst of all, it was my face. Or almost, it displayed a wide, toothy grin, and the eyes seemed obscured. The photo was taken from the second floor, and that thing in the photo had its neck twisted at an impossible angle.
“What the hell is this?” I said, holding the phone with my hands trembling.
Emily looked at me with wide eyes, her breath quick and shallow.
“I… I don’t know, Alex. I just… I saw this for the first time when in the backyard. I thought it was you, so I messaged you. The way he looked at me, the smile… I thought it was some prank of yours going too far. So I grabbed my phone and took the picture, and when I looked again, he was closer…”
A chill ran down my spine as I looked at the image again. There was no doubt that there was something there. Something with my appearance, but… twisted, distorted in a way that made me feel a deep sense of horror.
“And is that thing still out there? Can you see?”
“Yes,” she nodded, looking through the window.
“Okay, can you take another photo? I want to see how it is now.”
Emily hesitated for a moment, but eventually agreed. With trembling hands, she lifted the phone and took another photo. I was right behind her and could see with precision the moment that would never leave my mind:
When the camera flash went off, illuminating everything, I could see its outline, and some of its details. It was at the window, literally, its hands pressed against the glass, laughing like a maniac. Its mouth was wider, but I could still see some resemblance between our faces. I almost fell from the shock, my legs stiffening immediately as a shock ran down my spine, Emily recoiled too, frightened.
I didn’t know what to think or do. Fear and shock paralyzed my mind for a moment. Emily trembled beside me, her eyes fixed on the cell phone screen, as if she expected that figure to magically disappear.
“What are we going to do?” she whispered.
I looked at her, trying to gather enough courage to formulate a coherent response. Before I could open my mouth, however, my fear became overwhelming: three knocks on the door, right in front of us. Emily collapsed into tears as I looked, helpless, holding my breath. A flashback hit my mind, bringing me a memory of ours when we were together, playing a little hiding game in her house. But this time, the memory was distorted, like the others. In it, there was the sound of distorted laughter, echoing through the empty corridors of the house, as Emily pulled me into a dark closet, trembling with fear. “He’s going to get us,” the memory said. “Don’t make any noise!”
I was about to shout, to tell Emily to hide somewhere safe, when another knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. My mind raced in panic, trying to understand what was happening, while my heart beat so hard it felt like it wanted to burst out of my chest. I knew I couldn’t just stand there, waiting for something terrible that could happen at any moment. With my mind in turmoil, I tried to think of some way to protect myself and Emily.
“Emily, let’s go to the bedroom, lock the door, and call the police. We’re not going to let this thing scare us,” I suggested, trying to keep my voice steady despite the growing fear.
She nodded, sobbing, and together we headed to the master bedroom. We locked the door and sat on the bed, waiting as Emily dialed the emergency number. The sound of knocks on the door continued, rhythmic and persistent, as if something were trying to get in at all costs. We called the police, and as soon as they arrived, they searched the area. Emily showed one of the officers the photos we had taken; he looked at the photo, looked at my face, repeated the process.
“Ma’am, is this some kind of prank?”
The policeman’s question only increased our confusion and despair. We exchanged glances, unsure of how to explain what we were facing. We decided it would be best not to stay in the house alone that night. We packed some essential things and drove to the nearest hotel, where we checked in for the night.
“You can sleep in the bed, Em,” I said. “I think I’ll stay awake tonight, keep an eye out.”
She looked at me with concern in her tired eyes. She lay down on the bed, hugging a pillow as she tried to calm herself enough to sleep. Meanwhile, I remained alert, watching the darkness beyond the bedroom window.
The hours passed slowly, and I remained there, sitting in a chair next to the window. The silence of the night was almost soporific. My mind was clouded with thoughts about what we had witnessed a few hours earlier, but everything seemed to pull me into a strange and deep sleep. I fell asleep, and had another one of those nightmares…
In the dream, I was back at the clinic, facing the mysterious therapist. She was sitting in her chair, with a sinister smile on her face, while the small red pill glowed in her outstretched hand. I saw myself accepting it again, consuming it with the hope of forgetting Emily. But this time, instead of erasing the memories, I was consumed by flames, my flesh burning while still alive, screaming, hearing my skin blister and burst.
I woke up with a start, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. I looked around the room, breathing heavily as I tried to calm myself. Emily was still sound asleep in bed, oblivious to my torment. I felt paralyzed by fear and confusion, not knowing what to do next. The wall clock ticked away, marking 3:30 a.m., and cold sweat gathered on my neck.
That’s when I heard a sound coming from the hotel corridor. A soft dragging, as if something were moving slowly toward our room. My muscles tensed, my body ready for action, as I got up from the chair and approached the door. Carefully, I opened the door of the room, looking out into the dark hallway beyond. There was nothing out there, just the silent emptiness of the sleeping hotel. But still, I felt a presence, a sense that something was watching, waiting in the shadows. The only thing I heard was a sound coming from the end of the corridor. A low, chilling laughter, echoing through the hotel walls. I locked the door and placed the wardrobe we had in the room in front of it, blocking the passage, and didn’t sleep anymore that night.
When the first rays of sunlight finally penetrated through the curtains of the room, a feeling of relief mixed with exhaustion washed over me. Emily woke up, looking around with a sleepy and confused expression.
“What’s with this wardrobe at the door?” she murmured, rubbing her eyes.
“Emily, we need to talk,” I replied, my voice hoarse from stress and lack of sleep.
I told her about what I had done, about the clinic, the memories, and everything else. Perhaps it’s useful to mention that one of the reasons for the breakup was also spiritual; Emily dabbled in witchcraft and esotericism, and it seems she understood what they had done to me in that cabin.
“Alex… this was a ritual! You summoned a damn OBSESSOR to come after me!” she said, hitting me with the pillow.
“I didn’t know, Emily. I thought I was doing something to forget you, to move on,” I said, my voice faltering with guilt and fear.
She sighed, running a hand through her hair as she tried to process everything that was happening.
“I know, Alex. I know. But this is serious. This kind of thing isn’t a joke. You need to get rid of it, before it’s too late. That thing… it will come after me until it kills me, and then, if I die, everyone will forget that I ever existed,” she said, her voice sounding firm and concerned.
This new information hit me like a powerful blow. That wasn’t what I wanted… I didn’t want to erase Emily from existence. At that moment, I didn’t even know if I wanted to erase her from my life!
“I… I don’t know how. I went back to the cabin yesterday, and there was no one there, around the time you called me. I mean, there was, but she disappeared out of nowhere, and seemed not to want company,”
She started pacing back and forth in the room, running her hands through her hair frantically.
“Okay,” she said after a few minutes. “I think I have a friend who can help us.”
Emily grabbed her phone and made a quick call, murmuring a few words quietly. After a few minutes of conversation, she hung up and turned to me.
“She said she’ll help us, come on, quickly, it’s bad enough having to deal with this thing.”
We drove to her friend’s house, a very “wiccan” decoration surrounded the garden. I could see some mandrakes planted there before we climbed a flight of wooden steps and reached the door. We were greeted by a girl in a brown poncho who looked very scared; she called us inside, closing the door behind us and checking the surroundings.
“So, this is your jerk ex-dude?” she said.
Emily nodded, and the friend turned to me with a serious expression.
“You really got yourself into some trouble, Stupid!”
I told her everything that had happened, from the breakup with Emily to the nightmares and the spooky apparitions. She listened attentively, her expression growing darker with every word I spoke.
“This is very serious,” she murmured. “You’ve summoned something dark and dangerous.”
I swallowed hard, feeling a chill down my spine. What had I done?
“What can we do to get rid of it?” Emily asked, her voice trembling.
The friend looked at us seriously.
“There’s an ancient ritual we can try, but it’s risky. It involves banishing the obsessor. But I can’t guarantee it’ll work, nor that there won’t be consequences. It’s bound to your memories,” She turned to me, “Maybe we’ll have to get rid of them.”
I was taken aback.
“That’s right,” she continued. “In the end, you’ll get what you wanted, you’ll get rid of the memories.”
I paused for a moment. I looked at Emily, our eyes meeting. Was that what I wanted? Getting rid of our memories was really the solution? Emily held my hand, her worried expression reflecting my own doubts. I knew how much those memories meant to her. But I also understood the gravity of the situation we were in.
“Alex…” Emily began, her soft voice carrying a mixture of sadness and determination. “I understand.” That sentence put an end to everything, it was what was missing. I looked at her friend, this time more determined.
“Okay, let’s finish this ritual.”
She nodded, and we began to prepare the ingredients. It was already night when we finished. The ritual began with the preparation of the sacred space. Emily’s friend lit candles and incense, creating an atmosphere of serenity. She drew mystical symbols on the floor with special chalk, while reciting ancient words of power.
Then, she instructed us to sit in a circle in the center of the space, holding our hands as we closed our eyes. She began to chant a chant, a call to the realms. I felt an intense energy forming around us, as if we were connected to something greater than ourselves. As she continued to chant the song, Emily’s friend instructed us to visualize the obsessor, a dark and sinister presence, appearing before us. It was a difficult exercise, given the fear it caused me.
Suddenly, the air grew heavy. We opened our eyes, and there it was, floating in the middle of our circle, that thing, still in my form but more distorted than before: its back twisted backward, its eyes gleaming with a cold light. With our hearts pounding uncontrollably, we continued to recite the words of the ritual, focusing all our intention on expelling that evil entity. Emily’s friend lifted a bright crystal that was attached to a necklace, placing it on me.
“Now, think of everything you wanted to forget,” she instructed me.
I began to remember little by little, everything: The happy moments with Emily, but also the disappointments, our breakup. I let all these memories flow within me, focusing on the sensation of releasing them, of letting them go. I could feel an electric current running through my body, a sensation of warmth spreading from within to without. The creature stopped laughing, now hissing in irritation, but it was too late for her, the light grew, grew, and I was hit by a wave. When I woke up, I was in my bed, already not remembering anything about my relationship, there was none of our photos in the frames hanging around the house, not even her contact was saved on my phone.
I started to get better after that. I dedicated myself to sports, improved my physical and professional life, expanded my farm. I haven’t seen Emily since then; I believe it’s part of the instructions to stay away, not to bring the memories back to me. That said, how do I remember all this?
Well, it all started this morning while I was brewing my coffee. It was a busy day of work, but I gave up on that when I looked out the window. My heart filled with fear, my legs quickly began to tremble when I saw in the distance, in the pasture, a female figure, long dark hair, my type of woman, except for one thing: The distorted smile, abnormally large and full of teeth. She’s now getting closer to home, and I don’t have the contact of any mystic or anything like that.
I haven’t forgotten my ex-girlfriend, and it seems she hasn’t forgotten me either.