(current time of typing 10:21pm.)
It’s happening again. The noise downstairs, with that demon.
That’s what someone said last time, plenty of people have left comments for me to read, and one stuck out, and I took their comment to heart. They had also replied to my comment about my roommate being a witch, but I think it was deleted, which sucks.
Anyways, in my last post, I forgot to mention a few things about my roommate. She practices witchcraft. Not in a bad way, I don’t think. But, I asked her to perform a spell, and told her what happened. Of course, and thankfully, she never questioned me or my story, which was a relief for me, but I also had a mixed set of emotions. I genuinely hope she’s not the problem, if it is, I will do anything I can to make it stop because she’s frankly the best thing in my life right now. I’ve been unemployed for the last two months, and since the household expenses are genuinely very cheap, (I think everything including rent, is only about $900 per/month) she’s been a real hustler, and paying them, I can’t express enough how much I love her.
Okay, I also wanted to provide some context for this house. The noise is downstairs, and I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t feel scared, or threatened quite yet, however, I feel it necessary to explain, as my last post (I personally feel) left little to be desired in context of the house’s living condition.
My parents bought the house in 2017, I lived in it with them for about three years, until they moved out to take care of the in-laws, and my brother didn’t have a license, so that left me. I originally didn’t want the house at the ripe age of 18, primarily because the conditions of the house were not… great. The house was cheap when we bought it, it needs complete renovations everywhere. And they originally had the funds to do it, however in November of 2018, my step-dad was involved in an accident at work, and left him unable to work, leaving us with barely any income except workers comp. Let me also not forget to add that the room I am staying in was my brother’s room. He has anger issues and there are holes and the walls, and the door was ripped down in one of his fits. Which explains the lack of a door I have. I took the room when my roommate moved in so she could have some privacy.
After about two years, a pandemic issues, months of mental problems in the pursuit of ‘finding myself’ (I still haven’t found myself yet.) Crying, and my 20th birthday (2021 in this timeline), I finally agreed. At the time, I lived with my grandma (I moved out for a brief period to help her out with surgery recovery which lasted for a year somehow), I packed up my old little PT Cruiser (rest in pieces [yes like that] to her,) took my cat and started a life. I realized the great opportunity that had presented itself to me. I’m young, I know how to manage my money really well, and even working a job that pays $14 an hour, I could somehow comfortably live in this thing at peace.
Eventually, I did get a new job at a warehouse that paid $20 per/hour, and I was even better.
I noticed small things. Irrelevant at the time. And I’m already an incredibly paranoid person, but I shoved it off. I live in the country, the corn fields directly behind me, in a little town (actually it’s considered to be a village). Noise is bound to happen. Eventually, I did learn to relax with my cat. My trashy house that needs fixed. I relaxed and learned to live with the unfinished wood in the downstairs, the steep-barely attached basement steps that could collapse at any time. I learned to love the crappy installed windows, and the front door that barely latches half the time. Because it was mine.
At work, I was moved to a new department, a promotion of sort, but not with money, but of respect. And that’s when I met Samantha.
June of 2022. She trained me, and instantly we cliqued.
Like I knew her since I was a kid. We are constantly in sync. Know what we want, and at the time, I genuinely considered her my best friend. Sam moved in with me in August.
I still do consider her my best friend by the way. Which is why I felt no shame in telling her about the other night. She totally understood, and performed a spell, and I’m still in consideration as to if it worked or not.
Now, I know you’re wondering, “Where is it now?”
It’s opening and closing the basement door.
Open. Close. Open. Close.
Like a toddler learning the basics of the door, and playing with it.
Open. Close. Open. Close. Open–
The cat’s just ran upstairs, and they’re not fighting. Now I’m starting to get scared.
To keep myself occupied for as long as I can (and as we’re speaking about doors). I did end up getting my brother’s old door back on the hinges, the problem is that it doesn’t latch, but I can put something heavy behind the door to make sure it stays closed.
I’m keeping my light on. I don’t know if that’s gonna help anything, but the last time I think my light being on, really helped the thing stay out. But a demon is a demon, is a demon, and I’m scared that my fear will make them powerful enough to come into the light, if that’s the case. How can I not be scared of being scared?
Okay, the door is closing really loudly now, and it’s starting to shake the house. It was a mere soft closing, I could hear the basement door latch softly, even from the second floor. I hope it stays there. I’d rather live with that for a few hours a night, then the constant running in circles. And I’d rather the thing not break my fucking plates. Hell, the plate he broke wasn’t even mine! It was Sam’s!! If you’re only gonna fuck with me, fuck with my shit instead, have some fucking respect.
If I’m gonna be honest though, I don’t feel like it’s going after Sam, I think it’s me it wants. I don’t know why, it’s just a feeling I have, like a sixth sense. My roommate has never experienced something like this. Not even an eerie noise that will throw her off. Just me, especially if it’s been happening long before she arrived. She’s here alone more than I ever will be (Since I’m unemployed, I go to my mom’s house most of the time to help out, and keep me occupied) But I just can’t shake the feeling as to why it wants me.
If all else fails. I have a bathroom up here that has two doors that lock. The separate room with a shower locks, and then the separate room with the toilet also locks. So, I think that should help if push comes to shove.
I just positioned myself into the little concave in my room. The cats are staring at the bedroom door, and their tails are twitching. But their ears aren’t back. They’re curious, but apprehensive. Animals do wonders, and their current behavior helps keep the fear down immensely. If you can, please get a cat. They’re a bit less vocally reactive when a presence is near. God, they do wonders, and I can’t stop thanking them right now.
Hold on.
I just realized the door hasn’t slammed shut yet.
I think it’s on the first floor.
I can’t hear it now, but I’m sure as hell not going downstairs until the cats creep out. This time, I will follow them.
It’s tapping on the mantle of the stairs. It’s at the bottom of the steps. I think the fucker is taunting me to go to it. Get out of the light. But I’m not going to. I think it knows that. For some reason, if it had a face, it’s probably grinning ear to ear. But I’m not moving, fuck that. I thought demons were smart. If it wants to fuck me up, it’s gonna have to try a hell of a lot harder than that. Again, I’m a paranoid person. I don’t even sleep with my TV on, I’m the lightest sleeper you will ever meet (childhood trauma that I’m not gonna get into) so if it wants to get me, It’s gonna have to drag me to hell kicking and screaming. I’ve got teeth too, so I’ll even bite, regardless of whatever demon juices infects me.
It’s talking again. Or trying to. I can’t pinpoint it.
It’s groaning I think?
It said my deadname in a voice I can’t hardly recognize, but I feel like I should recognize it.
It’s tapping harder in frustration I think. It’s clearing its throat. Like it’s trying to impersonate someone I know, but I just can’t remember who it is.
My grandpa. It’s trying to impersonate my grandpa.
But jokes on that fucker. He died in 2016 from a heart attack, you wench.
Now it’s stomping its foot on the floor, or slamming its fist on the mantle. I hope none of it cracks.
You know what, I’m gonna personify the thing, and call it Idiot.
Idiot is gonna have to try harder than that to take me.
Oh shit, shit shit shit. I need to stop. The fear is leaving me, but an ego is taking over, this happens from time to time. But what should I feel? Feed it with my fear, or encourage myself with ego?
Fuck, this is hard. I need to shake my head like a cartoon character or something and not let either take over me. Ego, overconfidence will make me confront Idiot or it, I mean it, and I think personifying it could make it more powerful. But fear could be even worse, and feed it that way too.
Level-headed, that’s what I need to feel. Rational. Confidence is good, yes. But overconfidence could make it worse. Make me worse.
“[Deadname], Luna is out again. And I need help getting her.”
Yeah no. My mom isn’t fucking here, Luna (her dog) isn’t here.
It’s saying the same thing over and over again. That same line. Idiot I MEAN ‘IT’ FUCK, is getting more and more and more angry. There’s only so much I can type before I get bored or run out of words.
I’m getting angry myself, frustrated even. I want to scream at it. Fuck, I want to confront it, but I can’t. I have to stop myself. It’s playing a trick on me. Making me feel these things. But I’m more resilient than that.
You know what? I might pull some Home Alone shit, and put up some fish wire to trip it next time it decides to run, then I can see it fall at my steps and make fun of how stupid it is.
No. No NO NO, I can’t do that.
I’m gonna stop typing and wait it out. I’ll let you know if anything new happens.
(11:28pm)
This is a series of things it’s trying to lure me out with.
My little cousin (again) “Bobby and pawpaw need help cousin [deadname].”
Followed with the same voice, “Mommy said if you don’t come out, she’ll find you.”
Constant banging of my fucking mantle or stomping (I swear if that fucker cracks the wood, I’m gonna have a demon head hung above my bed like a trophy.) Then It started to perform the Boston Marathon by running around my house. It’s fast, stomping around as it does the weird toddler run. If it’s trying to impersonate my cousin, he’s in the wrong time period. He hadn’t sounded like that since he was 6, and he’s turning 9 soon. My cousin used to run around the house like that. If you’ve been around a young kid or toddler, you know that run. The lack of remorse for the floors as they stomp when they fucking run. It’s pissing me off, it’s gonna fuck up my floor, which is the original fucking wood by the way. So yeah, I have a right to be pissed.
If my grandma see’s this. No. I’m not covering them up with carpet! I’m not changing the trimming, and for the love of fucking God, I am not lowering my fucking-
Oh shit. It just fucking yelled. A deep guttural one, sounded like my mom, “Come out!” It’s stomping again.
I think my anger caused it. It’s feeding off of it. Oh shit oh fuck. I need to relax. I don’t need to worry about floors. I need to worry about myself, my cats.
Their ears are back now, and they are growling, hair up. No no no no.
(12:35)
It’s been about an hour.
I was able to calm myself down by reaching for a book and reading it outloud to myself in a calm voice. I don’t think it can get up the steps right now.
Honestly, I don’t think it can do much of anything unless I overreact.
Last time, I was scared shitless, and I think my fear gave it enough energy to get up the steps, but not enough to confront me. Tonight, anger is making it’s vocals more dramatic, but somehow less realistic. This could explain the difference between people that it communicates to me with.
Fear: My little cousin, step climbing.
Anger/overconfidence: Tone and overall energy that I feel.
I think it’s reflecting my anger towards my mom. It thinks, if I hear my mom, I’ll be scared enough to feed off me, and in turn, use my fear to climb the steps. However, my over compassion for my cousin let’s me want to confront it, leading to my ego and overconfidence.
I don’t know why it choose my grandpa. I’m sure the thing knows he’s dead. Actually, now that I typed that, I think personifying it might become more real in my word, thus more able to get me.
So, in conclusion, level headedness, and rationality is my best bet.
Is the simple term I guess. See!! I can be smart sometimes!!
No new updates though. It’s still thrumming against the mantle or floor, it’s not as intense. I’ll give info when I can.
(2:24am)
The cats went downstairs about 45 minutes ago. I feel relief and I feel safe to go about my night.
Thank you for coming along with me, and letting me vent my frustrations here. And, if you’re wondering. No. I did not follow them. I know better.
I did end up going to the bathroom, and I could see the bottom of the stair, but I have zero intention of going back down there tonight, or at least until Sam gets back from work. I think my lack of intention saved me if the thing is still down there trying to lure me. I heard it close the basement door with a loud slam, and it definitely shook the house and made me jump.
Again, thank you for those commenting on my situation and giving me advice or commenting at all, thanks for hearing that long context thing at the beginning. I’m probably not gonna post this until tomorrow just in case something does happen again. So read this in the past tense?? Even though this doesn’t read like it.
I’ll update you when I can. I had a sense of hope that this wouldn’t be a series, but here we are.