I was a little boy the first time I saw it. I had just come to after passing out and, seeing the police officers and medics, realized that we had just been in an accident. Our car was completely totaled and judging by the condition of the other vehicle, there was no way the driver could have survived. I felt like someone had taken a hammer to my head; The woman tending to me was wrapping my hand in gauze. I remember glancing over to see my father, who I only recognized because of the yellow shirt I knew he had been wearing. There were people trying to revive him, but there was something else there as well.
It was vaguely shaped like a human, but had no arms, only one leg, and had completely ebony skin. It’s face was like that of a gargoyle’s; twisted, grotesque, with a long snout, and an even longer tongue that protruded from it’s mouth. It had no eyes or ears that I could see, but as it hovered several feet above my father, I knew that it was watching him. I promptly passed out again.
Despite his injuries, my father survived; He would never walk again, but the doctors said that it had been a miracle. I was ecstatic; Still, in the back of my mind, I wondered what the hell I had seen that day. I once asked my dad about the dark creature, but he didn’t have any memory for several hours after the car accident. As it does, life went on; After a couple of years, however, I saw it again. This time I was walking home from school, accompanied by my best friend, Wade.
I remember an immense feeling of dread; Something was not right. We were being watched. I glanced to my right as we were walking down the sidewalk; My breath caught in my throat and I came to a sudden stop, my eyes as big as the moon. It was there again, the eyeless being that had been there after the car accident. As before, it was hovering several feet in the air, clearly observing me intently. I couldn’t move or speak; Wade, however, continued walking and talking. Once he realized that I had stopped, he did as well.
“Hey! What are you looking at, man?”
“You…you d-don’t see that th-?”
There was a terrible screeching sound, and I turned around in time to see Wade, standing several feet away, get struck by a truck that had come flying onto the sidewalk. Blood and other innards splattered the ground and sprayed onto my face as the truck smashed into the building beside us; I fell backwards onto my ass and cried as I caught sight of what had become of my friend. The floating specter was gone.
I was really fucked up after that. I went to countless therapy sessions, but I didn’t really want to talk about Wade; No, I talked about the twisted thing that had appeared twice now in the worst moments of my life. I grew obsessed with it, drawing pictures, painting it, even spending long hours in the library buried in books, determined to find out what the hell it was and what it wanted from me.
Though I didn’t see it directly for a long time, sometimes I felt it there; I would see it out of the corner of my eye as I studied, or catch it briefly in my rearview mirror as I drove to work. But anytime I looked, it would be gone; I began to wonder if I was losing my mind.
Then came the worst day of my life. I completely zoned out after I heard the word “cancer” in the small, uncomfortably warm doctor’s office. I could see his mouth moving but I couldn’t hear a single word he was saying. My fists were clenched tight and the room seemed to be getting even warmer; I found myself looking at the books on the shelf, the gold stapler, the sweet smell of flowers coming from the plug-in in the wall. Why were all of these things suddenly catching my attention? Had they never really mattered before?
The creature was there when I stood crying in my bathroom, shaving my head. I knew that if I turned to look at it directly it would vanish, so instead I cursed and threw my shaver at the mirror; Though it cracked into many pieces, I could still see the one-legged beast in the reflection, seemingly mocking me as it floated in my open doorway. I began to see it a lot more often after that.
It was present during every chemotherapy session. I could see it looming above me, it’s expression blank as I went through the arduous process again and again. I would see it as I lay in bed, sick to my stomach and unable to hold in a single bite of anything. I would see it as my mother cried, holding my hand, and I would see it when I held the gun, sitting on the edge of my bed contemplating putting it all to an end. Why go through so much pain? Why allow myself to slowly fizzle away, or else be driven insane by this creature that was the cause of every misfortune I’ve ever had in my life?
But, I persisted. I put the gun down every time and eventually decided that I wanted to live; Even if I succumbed to my illness, I wanted to live through all of the bullshit, just to spite the demon. I wouldn’t let it win. I couldn’t let it win.
I made the right choice. I survived. I recovered completely from the disease that had been eating away at me and, in the process, had gotten to know one of my nurses very well. Julissa and I hit it off and we began seeing each other. The lurking creature had disappeared; I hoped that I had sent it off cursing my persistence.
Julissa and I married and I was happier than I had ever been. My obsession with the creature had waned; Though I would still occasionally see it, it no longer held sway over me. After beating cancer, nothing did, really. Julissa and I had a boy less than two years into our marriage. I loved that kid with all my heart, raising him with the same kind of love and dedication that my dad had with me. When Joseph was 5, we had another baby, this time a girl, Julie. I was doing great at work and my parents were still in good health. I felt like I had figured life out.
And then I got that phone call. I was in the middle of a meeting when one of the secretaries came in, looking distraught. My heart immediately dropped.
It was about my son, Joseph. He had been shot two times after seeing a movie with his friends. He was in the ICU, fighting for his life. My wife and I were there quick, holding each other as our tears flowed. What kind of world did we live in? I thought I had understood true evil, but I really didn’t. None of us ever could. I had a reality check that day.
I can say that I’ve never been more relieved, nor will I ever again be as relieved as I was when the surgeons told us that things were looking good. They believed that Joseph was gonna pull through. When I walked up to the window, peering in at my baby boy, however, my relief first turned to fear, and then to rage. It was there. The thing that had been there in every one of my worst moments. It was floating directly above my son, and in my mind I imagined it sucking his life force from him like a mosquito. I didn’t care what the doctors did to me; I had to save him.
I burst into the room, pointing a finger at the creature. “You leave him alone, goddammit! You get the hell away from him, you leave us be! Go! Go! I’ve had enough of you, I don’t ever want to see you around me or my family again, you hear me?”
The doctors were calling for security as my wife dashed into the room, begging me to calm down. The creature remained there, and I reached in my pocket and threw my phone at it.
“Goooo! Get out of here, go!”
It turned to me briefly, considering me, and then it shot up into the air, through the ceiling and out of sight. My heart was pounding as my chest rose and fell, sweat covering my face. It had finally gone.
Joseph died that night. The doctors, much like they couldn’t explain how my father survived, could not explain how my son had suddenly given up. As my wife and daughter cried a thousand rivers in the days that followed, I found myself sitting in dark rooms, the gun lying in front of me again. Only one question seemed to be burning into my psyche. Was it my fault?