I never thought I would post here, but I’m at my wit’s end and don’t know what else to do. I’m not sure if I’m looking for advice, or just want somebody, anybody to believe me, but I’d appreciate it if you would just listen.
I suppose I should start at the beginning, almost three years ago. I live in a little run down town called Sycamore Hill which is in Nebraska. You probably haven’t heard of it, and if you have, it’s for the same story I’m about to tell you. You see, at the very edge of the town, on the east side is a maximum security penitentiary. That’s where they keep the worst of the worst, the serial killers, serial rapists, mass shooters, child molesters, and those bastards you see on America’s most wanted. I think they kept Ted Bundy there at one point.
The place has been there since the 1970’s, and up until three years ago, it boasted the record for having no escapees. As you can probably guess, that’s no longer the case.
Long story short, they had this one guy in there, simply named “The Executor”. This guy apparently killed twenty one people over a five year period, and in such brutal ways that the police refused to give any details or pictures to the media. Everyone had basically forgotten about him since he was locked in permanent solitary confinement, until this teenage boy went to visit a different inmate in the penitentiary, I think he was related to them or something.
No one really knows or understands what happened next, they had a whole Congressional hearing and still couldn’t figure it out. I originally chalked it up to pride and incompetence, but considering everything that has happened since then, I’m assuming it had to be something supernatural.
Either way, what everyone does know, is that somehow that poor kid ended up trapped in a cell with The Executor, who proceeded to kill him. Beat him to death apparently. And then the bastard somehow managed to escape.
It was pandemonium for weeks after that, the entire town was basically placed on lockdown. Nobody left their houses, entire businesses just shut down, and everyone was on edge. I actually had the police called on me half a dozen times, apparently I looked a lot like the escapee. Something about us having the same eyes or something like that.
Anyways, they finally killed the fucker, shot him to death in a police standoff. But things never really went back to normal after that. The family of the teenager, Tom, sued the prison for wrongful death, apparently won millions from that whole mess. Still feel pretty bad for them, money can’t replace a person after all. The towns now infamous for letting a serial killer kill a kid, escape and run around for weeks before catching him.
There’s a whole host of urban legends and stuff surrounding that incident. Some say The Executor’s still out there, that the police shot the wrong guy. Others say that Tom’s spirit still roams the town, and that if you know where to look, you can see his ghost wandering the streets. Normally I would chalk those stories up to tall tales, but this time I can’t.
Because Tom’s ghost is staring right at me as I type this out.
I can feel it’s eyes boring into the back of my head, I’m writing this on my couch while it’s standing in the corner.
I don’t even know how to describe this thing, because it doesn’t look like the ghosts you see in movies or video games. For one, it’s not translucent, this thing is very much solid. At least I think it is, I’ve never been able to touch it.
It almost looks like your average teenager, tall with short blonde hair, whose wearing a nice white hoodie, khaki pants and red and white tennis shoes. Until you realize that it’s covered in blood and it’s face is the stuff of nightmares.
Oh god, it’s face.
To put it simply, it’s like someone dropped a bucket of tar on its face, you can’t make anything out. No mouth, no nose, no freckles or features, just a pitch black surface. The only thing you can see is its left eye. It’s huge, much bigger than a regular human eye, and it never blinks.
Just a cold, blue stare.
As for the rest of it, what little skin you can see is either covered in blood, splotchy with bruises and cuts, or both. It’s horrifying to say the least.
This thing doesn’t walk or move normally either, it just hovers a few inches off the ground, never taking its eyes off of me.
It’s been following me for years, and the only time it leaves me alone is when I use the bathroom.
When it first showed up, naturally I freaked out. I was screaming, cursing, throwing plates and stuff at the thing. I guess the neighbors heard the commotion because the police were called. Thankfully the officer was an old friend of mine, named George, otherwise I probably would have been carted off to the madhouse.
Ever since then, it’s followed me everywhere. The only time I ever managed to get away from it was when I left town to go on a two week vacation. I was so relieved, I thought I had finally escaped. Then I got a call from my mother a week in, my grandfather had apparently fallen terribly ill. And of course, guess what was waiting for me when I got back?
And the pattern repeated, every time I leave town, an emergency will pop up and force me to come back.
And before you suggest some kind of ritual or exorcism, I’ve already tried that.
At first I tried going to my local church, where the priest attempted some kind of exorcism involving a cross, a bible and a bowl of holy water. Well the cross exploded, the Bible caught fire and the holy water turned into some kind of black sludge. The poor priest basically shoved me out of the door.
The next week I found out I was banned from the church.
Go figure.
Next I tried the ghost hunter that my friend Nick had recommended. The guy seemed promising enough, and almost immediately agreed to check out my house. When he got there for some reason he insisted on checking out the attic. I probably should have the noticed that Tom was nowhere to be found, because not three minutes later I heard an unholy scream and watched the ghost hunter sprint out of my house cursing like a sailor.
I’m still not sure what happened there, but apparently the poor guy ended up committing suicide two weeks afterwards.
I really don’t know what to do. No one else seems to be able to see this thing, and I’m about to lose my fucking mind. I can’t stand this thing, I need it to go away! Should I tell Tom’s family what’s going on, would they even believe me?
If anyone has any advice, please help me.
It’s still staring at me. God help us all.