Do you ever wonder how many days you have left? Some people, when they are trying to sleep, contemplate life and death. I think it’s because we feel safe in our beds. We feel far away from our own mortality, far enough away to confront it. Last Sunday, death was the last thing on my mind as I stared up at my bedroom’s popcorn ceiling. Today, not so much.
What I was thinking about last week was what that strange scraping sound was. It was quiet, but constant. I thought it was my cat at first, as it sounded like some small creature scratching a door or wall. Not wanting to get out of bed, I tried to ignore it. If it was my cat, he’d get bored and stop eventually. If it wasn’t, there was surely another mundane explanation for it. It could have been the neighbors I shared a wall with, my fan moving a light object, or any number of other things.
Well, I don’t do well with constant repetitive noise. Even if I couldn’t do anything about it, I just had to know the source of the sound. I threw off my blanket and swung my legs over the side of my bed. I sighed and rubbed my tired eyes as I stood up and walked to the door. When I opened it, my cat was nowhere in sight. The sound was gone. Weird, I thought, it sounded just like him. No matter, it was probably nothing to worry about.
I was too tired to try and investigate the sound anymore. I went back to bed and the sound started up again. I was a bit annoyed, but eventually the constant scratching faded into the background like white noise and I fell asleep.
The next day, there was no scraping. To be honest, I completely forgot about it. I went about my day like normal, but later that night as I lay in bed I heard it again.
The constant scratching and scraping was bothering me now. Why couldn’t I hear it during the day? I knew it would bug me until I found the source. It had to be coming from inside my room, it was quiet but definitely sounded very close. I walked around my bedroom, looking for anything that could cause it. Nothing.
As I stared up at my ceiling, listening to the scratching, I racked my brain trying to rationalize it. It was a brand new occurrence, so something must have changed in my room recently to cause it. Did I move anything around recently? I hadn’t.
I continued to stare, and think, and listen. Scratch scratch scratch, like a cat, but not a cat. It sounded like it was right in front of me.
No, not in front of me.
It was coming from right above me.
I sprang up as if from a nightmare. Right outside of my bedroom, on the ceiling, was a trap door to an unused attic. There must have been something in there causing this, maybe a small animal had somehow found a way in?
I exited my room and looked up at the door. I then went downstairs to get a folding metal chair, as due to my short stature I couldn’t possibly even touch the door without a boost. I retrieved the chair and, as quietly as possible since my parents and brother were all sleeping, set it up beneath the door. I then grabbed my phone from my room to use its flashlight.
The door had no handle, it was honestly barely a door. It was a square panel that sat atop the square hole in the ceiling. I pushed it up and stuck my phone in before my head. Shining the light on my phone around the tiny area, I saw that there was nothing there from previous tenants. No boxes, empty or otherwise, nothing. There weren’t even spider webs, surprisingly. And there were no animals. I looked through the place multiple times just to make sure. Not a creature in sight. No scratching sound either.
I went back to bed not long after that. I couldn’t sleep very easily, though. The scratching sound was right above me, I knew it. There was no possible other location for the source to be.
I must have fallen asleep eventually, how I couldn’t say. The next day was without the noise again. That night the noise was back. However, the next day brought something new.
I woke up with a migraine. I rarely get headaches, let alone migraines. I assumed it was just a regular migraine. I mean, why on earth would I think any different?
I spent most of that day just laying in bed, after I brushed my teeth and all that. When I went back to bed and started watching videos on my phone, I heard it.
The scratching. It was happening again.
The noise was happening during the day now. It seemed louder now, perhaps I was just more sensitive due to my headache, but it definitely seemed louder. I couldn’t focus on the YouTube video I was watching because I was so baffled by it. I had checked the attic, my entire room. It couldn’t be my neighbors, they weren’t above me and what person would do an activity that would make such a sound all night and now all day? It didn’t make sense.
Well, if I thought that was strange, it was nothing on what happened that night.
Again I was trying to sleep with the irritating scratching sound still going on, when I heard a voice. Now, to be clear, I have no history of hallucinations or any mental illness that causes them.
It seemed to come from right above me, just like the scratches. The voice was quiet, gravelly and wretched. Due to the shock of hearing a random voice in my room, it took me a second to even process what was said. When I did, I didn’t know what to make of it.
“Too small in here, sorry.”
It sounded like a sick old person, like speaking was a great effort. I was completely still for what felt like a really long time. I could feel my heart beating hard in my chest and my stomach felt like it had a rock in it. Despite the fear I felt, I told myself I must have just been close to sleep and my brain invented the voice.
I hardly slept that night, both due to that incident and my headache. The next day, Thursday, I was again bedridden because of my migraine, which had gotten worse. The scratching was also louder, and again lasted all day. I tried my best to ignore it. I tried, but another incident at lunch (I was eating in my bed, I just didn’t care about potentially making a mess because the headache was so bad.) forced me to pay attention again.
“My my, this is the hardest move I’ve ever had to make.” The gravelly voice said. I froze again. I was wide awake, so it was unlikely my brain was messing with me. I had no idea what this was, or what to do.
I felt a bit silly, but I couldn’t think of anything else to do so I spoke to the voice. “What?” I said.
“Nothing, carry on, carry on…” The voice replied, a bit sing-songy. I couldn’t believe it. The voice actually replied. That’s it, I’ve gone crazy. I’m talking to a voice in my head.
I debated checking into a mental hospital right then, but decided against it. I’m just feeling off because of this headache and this damned scratching. It’ll pass. I decided to wait and see if it went away on its own. To be honest, I just didn’t have the energy to deal with it.
The next day, which was yesterday as I write this, my migraine was drastically worse. It was so bad that no pain medication would work. It was so bad I got close to tears when I had nothing to distract me from the pain. I was bedridden and nauseous. The scratching was very loud now.
I didn’t let on to my parents how bad it was. I have a high pain tolerance, but I also have a huge problem with asking for and accepting help from others. I still thought it would pass.
I still thought I was just sick, until I got up to use the restroom. It wasn’t until I was washing my hands when I realised it…
…I could still hear the scratching.
Everytime I heard it before, it was only when I was in bed. It sounded like it was coming from the ceiling. It must have been coming from the ceiling. And yet, I was staring at myself in the mirror and it still sounded like it was coming from right in front of me.
It was right in front of me. The sound was coming from what I could see right in front of me. How could I not see it before?
Scratch, scratch, scratch, Each time the scratch could be heard my head throbbed with pain. Scratch, scratch, scratch, I felt my stomach drop and my throat tighten.
“Will stop hurting soon. Gotta move out.” The voice said. Oh my god. I felt dizzy. I felt sick.
The scratching, the voice, they were coming from inside my fucking head.
I turned to the toilet, threw up the lid, and emptied out the contents of my stomach. I gagged and my abdomen muscles struggled to expel more contents that didn’t exist as I saw how much red was in the toilet. I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die.
I was sick for the rest of the day and last night, and I got almost no sleep. The only thing I was thinking about was the fact that there is something in my head. An actual creature or entity is inside my head. For how long has it been there, I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to know. I have no clue how my brain hasn’t been damaged by it, as far as I know.
I am still utterly miserable today. The pain in my head is so great that I can’t take it much longer, I’m on my way to the hospital right now. The voice hasn’t said anything else, but I still hear and feel the scratching. I haven’t told my parents about the creature, voice, or the scratching. I just told them about the pain and nausea, and the blood in my vomit.
The voice just said something again as I’m writing this.
“Almost out.”
I just went back and read the other things it said and I feel sick again. It’s been trying to get out. It’s trying to leave through my skull, my forehead to be specific. It’s moving out of its ‘house’.
It’s scratching through the ceiling. I hope I’m not too late to stop it.