Several months ago, my partner and I moved into our first apartment. It was small and simple. Two bedrooms, a decent sized bathroom with a clean shower, and a small living room that connected directly with an even smaller kitchen. We were in love with it from day one.
Those first few weeks getting used to our new home were some of the best days of my life. Finally being out from under the noses of our parents and starting our lives together was something I’d been looking forward to for what felt like ages. For a while, everything seemed too good to be true. But then one night, I woke up with a painful need for the bathroom.
I laid there for a bit, half asleep, trying to will my body to suck it up and wait just a few more hours. After several minutes of hopelessly tossing around in an attempt to get comfortable, it became clear that the floodgates would soon open past the point of no return. I grumpily forced my tired legs out of bed and headed to the bathroom. After I was done with my business, I groggily fell back into bed next to my partner and yawned in exhaustion. The tears that stung my eyes as a result distorted the room into a series of blurred colors and shadows. Annoyed by the slight inconvenience, I wiped the wet from my face. In doing so, my eyes came to rest on the bedroom doorway.
All at once I felt sleep release me from its temptation as I stared, puzzled, at the door frame. Something about it looked odd, but without my glasses I couldn’t quite make out what. I reached to my nightstand and searched blindly for my lenses, not taking my eyes off the entrance to our room. After a few seconds of struggling, I managed to grab hold of my glasses and put them on. I have never regretted anything more in my life.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the sudden shock of visibility. But as they did, a chill, like cold liquid oozed down my back. I saw, peaking around the door frame, a shape. Just a thin section of the side of a large head poked out into the bedroom. Along with it a pitch black limb reached around the frame and held it intimately. Despite not being able to make out any clear features on the dark shape, I knew it was looking back at me.
I gasped and immediately turned on the light to reveal what was obviously an intruder, only to be met with the abrupt emptiness of my bedroom entrance. Confused, but still very much alarmed, I got back out of bed and grabbed the knife I kept in the bedside drawer. I walked cautiously over to the door, weapon at the ready incase I needed to defend myself. I waited, pressed against the wall, listening for any unusual sounds coming from the apartment. When I heard none, it gave me the courage to whip around into the doorway only to see…nothing. The hallway was completely empty and all the doors were shut tight. I slowly moved down the small hall until I reached the living room, where I was once again greeted by no other presence.
I sighed in relief. I thought I had just imagined the dark shape. After double checking the other room and the bathroom just to be safe, I found nothing out of the ordinary. I reasoned that my sleepy mind had just played a trick on me. So, I returned to bed once more and looked back at the doorway. I didn’t see the figure this time and after not long, fell back to sleep.
The next day, I decided not to share the previous night’s excursion with my partner. There was no reason they needed to know about some weird hallucination, after all. I went through the day like nothing happened. The mundane of my usual activities scrubbing away the event until I’d nearly forgotten about it entirely. It wasn’t until night fell when I was laying in bed next to my sleeping partner again that the memory came back to me.
I bolted upright and stared at the entrance to my bedroom once again. This time, however, it was deserted. I could see only the beige, chipping paint peeling gently from the frame. Relieved and feeling a bit ridiculous, I chuckled silently to myself and looked down at my partner, whose slumbering form hadn’t stirred even slightly. The peaceful image brought a tiredness to my eyes and I opted to rest my head on the feather-ridden pillow beside them and share in that peace. Soon enough, I too was asleep.
Some time later, I awoke without warning. I realized I’d been so distracted before that I’d fallen asleep with my glasses still wrapped around my now indented and weary face. I sat up with a fatigued, quiet sigh of mild annoyance and reached to my face to remove the crooked rims. But as my hand grazed their edges, I opened my eyes a little just by chance and was greeted with a recognizable shape lingering just at the edge of my doorway. My stomach sank like a stone and my abdomen curled and twisted like a coiling serpent as anxiety flooded my veins. There was no mistaking it this time. Impregnating the entrance stood a dark figure, its horrible, misshapen form peeking through the edges of the door frame. I once again sat there in stunned silence, only able to return the things faceless peeping with my own horrified gaze.
I’ve no idea how long our staring contest lasted. But after what I’d guess was several minutes, I noticed just a little more of what I thought to be the thing’s face was revealed. I could now see what appeared to be half of an unusually inflated, bulbous, human-like head leering at me through the doorway. I then realized its entire crooked arm now reached past the frame, resting a sharp and jagged hand against the bedroom wall. I didn’t take the time to observe anymore of the thing’s hideous form, and instead reached for my knife. I did so slowly, and with an unshifting gaze. The thought of making any sudden movements filling my heart with a paranoid dread. As soon as my hand grasped the handle of the tool, I flipped it open with a low click, and brought it in front of myself.
Almost immediately, the pattern of horror that stared me down reacted, but not in the way I’d expected. Rather than rush at me with a fearsome howl or vicious anger it quickly pulled its gnarled appendage and bulging head back through the doorway, leaving a confused emptiness where it had formerly stood.
I almost yelped in surprise and found myself hastily jumping from my bed and storming to the door as if to chase the thing. But as I stepped through the doorway and down the hall, just like the previous night, I found not so much as a dust particle out of place. Unlike the last time, however, I was certain I wasn’t imagining things and made little effort to be quiet with my search of the apartment. My stomping feet and slamming of doors unsurprisingly woke my partner, who asked me what was wrong with a tone more irritated than concerned. I can’t say I blame them since my exasperated explanation was unable to describe properly what I’d seen. After double checking the locks on both the front door and all the windows, as well as searching every room and closet in the apartment, my partner could only conclude that I had some sort of sleep paralysis episode. I tried to explain to them that I’d reached for the knife while watching the shape and therefore couldn’t have possibly been asleep, but I think their exhaustion clouded their better judgment. They shook off my concerns and told me to come back to bed with them. I begrudgingly did so, but only because we had basically ripped our home apart to ensure there were no hiding intruders.
I didn’t do much throughout the following day, my focus remaining on the entity from the previous night. With my partner being gone to work and leaving me alone, my nerves refused to settle. I kept myself in the living room and close to the front door in case I needed to escape something that might materialize from the shadows that stretched and twisted perfidiously down the length of my dimly lit hallway. I found it nearly impossible to stop myself from regularly glancing toward the bedroom. Each time expecting to see that malignant shape peaking around its entrance. The place that had once brought me the comfort of a prominent life and a promising future now replaced the very marrow in my bones with a turbulent angst.
As the daylight coming through the blinds softened, my paranoia only increased. But the image of my partner finally arriving back through the front door brought me at least some amenity. Soon, however, the sun slipped over the mountains. The shadows formerly cast upon the walls began to meld with the increasing darkness of the apartment and I slowly began to feel less reassured by the thought of my partner’s return.
They should have been home over an hour before. I shuddered at the possibility that this would be one of those rare evenings when work kept them late. Sadly, a disheartening phone call from my partner confirmed my fear, as they told me in no uncertain terms that they likely wouldn’t be relieved until quite late into the night. I tried not to make the dread that overtook me known to them as we spoke. I attempted to hold them on the line longer than what their employer was probably happy with. But inevitably, the conversation had to end. And when it did, I found myself alone once more.
Trepidation wrapped itself around my throat like a knotted rope as I stared down the hall to my bedroom. My home suddenly felt like a prison of drywall and cheap, shabby furniture. It was already getting late and I wasn’t sure what I feared more, being alone in the bedroom where that thing might watch me again, or not being alone in the hallway with it. My only hope was that the horror wouldn’t show itself that night. But truthfully I had little reason to believe that.
After a day of constantly looking over my shoulder in a ceaseless paranoia I found myself frustrated that I no longer felt welcome in my own home. I couldn’t allow some delusion or nightmare or whatever this thing was to take away the sanctuary my partner and I waited so long to acquire. So it was with a flimsy resolve that I opted to go to sleep in my bed, in my bedroom. Although, I decided it would be best to shut the door and lock it in the hopes of bringing myself a little more confidence.
It must have been exhaustion from the day’s obsessive stress that cradled me into slumber that night. Despite my incessant fear I somehow managed a few hours of sleep. Late into the night, however, I was awoken to the sound of a light knocking at the bedroom door. I groggily checked the time and realized it must be my partner, home from work at last. I sighed, a bit relieved, as I forced my body out of the comfort of bed to answer. As I rose, the knocking came again, a little more insistently this time. Slightly irritated, I sleepily announced to my caller to wait a moment, as I was coming. I rubbed the tiredness from my eyes as I walked those few short steps to the door. All the while the perpetual knocking tapped away at it. I again, more loudly this time, announced I was coming and wrapped my hand around the doorknob, preparing to twist its lock and open it. But as soon as my fingers grazed the brass, a heavy bang hit the door so hard the hinges rattled.
I jumped back, fear abruptly sobering me. My gaze transfixed on the door like I was trying to see through it. I weakly called my partner’s name. Whomever was on the other side responded with yet another slam against the hardboard. I let out a small yelp as the thin strand of resolve I’d had earlier that night evaporated completely. Another slam pounded the door and I watched as a screw flew off one of the hinges. I ran to the door and pressed myself into it with all my weight, hoping to soften the bludgeoning. It rattled again, the force of which nearly threw me off. I planted my feet as hard as was possible on the old carpet and kept pushing against my intruder on the other side. With another loud bang more shrapnel shot out from the hinges as I desperately tried to keep the door in its frame.
I heard the sound of splintering wood and loose, swinging hinges as the attacker continued to assault the barrier between us. I screamed in panic and primitive instinct as I felt the door weaken with each devastating blow. My eyes wildly scanned the small room for anything that could offer protection. I wasn’t strong enough to move any of the heavy furniture, and even if I had been there wasn’t enough time to do so. Finally, my distressed gaze landed on my bedside knife. I knew it wouldn’t offer much protection against whatever the hell was destroying the door, but as cracks began to form in the wood I saw little other choice.
After guarding against one last slam of the door I tore myself away from it and ran to the far side of the bed where my small protective item rested. Grabbing it, I turned to face the door which continued to pound against the now awkwardly misshapen hinges that barely held on. With one final crash, the door flew open and smashed against the wall with a heavy crack, driving the knob clean through it. I expected to see the full form of some kind of behemoth standing murderously in the entrance. But instead there was just that, a doorway. Completely desolate of either person or monstrosity.
In spite of this, my nerves did not settle. The sight of the empty doorway only brought concern for my sanity as my mind grasped frantically for any kind of explanation to the damn door practically flying off its hinges. I had little time to consider the possibilities, however, for only seconds later the answer revealed itself to me.
An absurdly large, swollen, black head slowly pushed its way into the room and twisted in a nearly human-like manner until the front of its horrible form rested an eyeless gaze upon me. A deep dread slithered its way up my spine as I glared in horror at the void that I assumed was a face. Through all the terror that choked my psyche, my arm somehow found the will to lift my hand and point the blade of my small knife toward the intruder. Its immense, pitch-black appendage shifted downward and tilted slightly, as if pondering the significance of my weapon. Then, with a sudden, bone-snapping jerk, it lifted its featureless visage to meet my tear-stained face once more.
The egregious thing seemed to examine me with amusement as its mangled arm kneaded softly at the wall of the room. My legs shook and my heart pounded so intensely I thought it’d burst from my chest cavity. Although I held the knife in front of my shivering self, I had not the strength to otherwise move. The corner of the room became my entire world, my very life relying solely on the space that existed between myself and my anathema.
My eyes peeled further wide as the entity’s engorged skull began to shape and contort. I watched in agonizing terror as the face’s center stretched and tore disgustingly into a hole, like a lipless jaw trying to scream. The flaps of gore-ridden, inky skin separated just enough for red gums and yellow teeth to faintly show through the tares. A guttural moan exhaled from the fissures in a tangle of high and low pitches, stealing the last ounce of my resolve. My quivering hands dropped the knife and I fell with it to the floor with a painful thud. I let out a small sob as snot and other fluid dripped down from my face. The realization that I was going to die gripped my wrenching throat as a horrifying series of voices echoed through the many mouths of the abomination. It was like the thing was trying to form speech, but hadn’t done so in centuries.
Its form struggled and convulsed as grotesque belches and groans clawed their way violently out of its many orifices. Finally, after a tortuous effort, the thing managed to weave the words, gnarled and disgusting, from its awful face.
“D-don’t…sh-shut…d-d-do…door!” It screeched in rage-filled, overlapping tones. “N-nev…never…a…gain. Un…under…stand?!”
My eyes focused on the monster with both increased horror and confusion, and I found myself nodding in acknowledgement. It kept that horrible form in an eyeless stare as if considering my response. Then, after a moment or so, it slowly slipped back beyond the door frame and out of site.
I sat there, dumbfounded, the horror not yet entirely dissolved. Only a minute later I heard the front door open, soon followed by a shocked gasp. My partner ran into the room to see me, soaked in snot and tears, kneeling in the corner. The knife lay a foot or so in front of me and they picked it up gingerly. They lowered themself to my eye level and grabbed my shoulders, half hugging, half shaking me while imploring what had happened. A vacancy plastered my wet face as I simply told them, “Burglary.”
I don’t really know why I lied to them. I guess I just knew they wouldn’t believe me. I suppose I don’t really expect anyone to. Needless to say, after the incident I convinced my partner to move out of that place. After seeing the sight of the smashed-in-bedroom door, it didn’t take much to convince them. We spent the week rapidly moving everything out during the day, and sleeping at my parents house at night. They didn’t mind us staying with them after hearing about what had happened. A few weeks later, we managed to find another apartment, though it wasn’t as nice as our previous one. I was hoping to be able to let go of what happened in the old place. I just wanted to move on and forget about it. I honestly thought I had, until last night.
I got to bed shortly after my partner had fallen asleep. I looked at the empty entrance to our new bedroom, studying it for a moment. This had become routine in the weeks since everything happened. Thankfully, I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. I rested my head on the soft pillow and began to doze off when a strange sensation came over me. Not wanting to acknowledge it, I tried to swallow it down and force myself to sleep. In time, however, my curiosity and concern got the better of me and I opened my eyes just enough to peek between the lids, focusing on the doorway. There, peeking back at me from just around the frame, was a bulbous, dark head.