Short stories, (PJO, HP, Sanders Sides, anything really. I take requests!)

Journal Part 1

They said it was paranoia. Dark shapes in my room when the lights are out, just piles of clothes or a bookshelf. But I know that's not it. I know it. Whatever they are, they're haunting me, whispers that can be dismissed as city noises, darker, more morbid thoughts, devils, demons, evil.

Haunted. My friends all say they'd like to visit a haunted house someday, but they could never stand the real thing. They dislike me. I'm reckless, I scare them, I'm too morbid, too dark, but they don't know why. It's not my fault, I chant that in my head like a mantra, but every night I wake up feeling like I murdered somebody. There are droplets of blood on my bed sheets. I caught a glimpse last night and I can't describe it. They're hurting everybody, they're coming for everyone and I can't stop it. I try not to sleep; if I do, I always wake up with that feeling. I've been hearing voices. They say I'm delusional. Maybe they're right. Or maybe they're not and I'm the last link.

I can't leave. When I leave, try to sleep somewhere else, it works for a while. But then they just come for me in the daytime, hissing, guiding my every step. I say things I don't mean and I know it's their fault. They've been following me, I know that, I'm so close and so far from knowing everything, and if i ever know everything, it'll break me. Then they'll really have to put me in a mental institution, like they keep threatening. I don't know if it's gotten to my family too. I can't tell whether they seem off or not. I think I saw a bloody handprint on my sister's door once. It vanished when I looked at it again. There are voices everywhere, they seem like thoughts but when you look closer, you know they're not your own. Or maybe they are. Maybe they are, and I'm going crazy.

Today I'm leaving. I can't decide if that's good. They'll come for me in the day and twist every word I say, but at least I'll be able to sleep. My head's reeling, and I can't tell if the hallucinations I see are because of my lack of sleep or if they cause it. Everything's dark and distorted. Nothing's what it seems, and I'm reeling. I hate this, but something forces me on, leeching to my brain. Words tumble out, I promise things I don't mean, or maybe I do mean them. If it finds out I'm writing this, I don't know what it'll do. It wants me to know it is always watching itisalwayswatchingitisalwayswatchingIamalwayswatchingIamalwayswatching