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Sometimes as I sit, wonder, and meditate on how odd life is, I regretfully doze back to a time, a place, when things were even more odd. The slightest cheek-kissing breeze, the foggiest silky cobweb, reels into my mind as a fisher struggling against his prey, to bring back the memory of unspeakable terror.

I truly do not know if I can ever again claim sanity after the experiences that I call my lifetime; I doubt if anyone could. Perhaps I am not alone. Perhaps sanity is just a thing of the past that older men sit around and talk about with a beer in one hand, and a cigar in the other. "Yeah, those were the good ol' days," they would say through teeth as false as fool's gold. "I remember when . . . " 

Maybe now sanity is something that we all grow out of as we reach adulthood. . . perhaps reality is only a form of insanity. Who can really say for sure, without conjectures, hypotheses, and theories? Is there an explanation for any of life's strange encounters? One that doesn't require a lot of intellectual scientific jargon to hide the real issue? I doubt the existence of any confirmed, logical explanation of certain oddities: oddities of which men and women are often afraid to speak of. Oddities that are whispered of in low hushed voices, as if demons are waiting in the darkness, listening. Oddities that send cold shivers down the base of your spine like icy-cold fleshy fingertips attempting to caress your most vital parts, as your brain spins to the unmentionable evils that lie within the night's darkness. Could anyone really understand without firsthand experience? Could any mind, however intelligent, comprehend the unfathomable depth in which our sanity and fears lie? Again, I have my doubts . . .

Mine is a story of terror and woe, a tale spun of darkness, cold and damp; a myth of evil that suddenly becomes all too real. A myth that embarks you into a reverie of unconditional insanity, which sends mothers and children alike, to run weeping through their own darkness. This tale of mine must be told, to whomever is bold enough, to whomever dares to read. Tuck the babes snugly in bed; turn on all the lights. You are about to enter into a pitch-black nightmare, and as such, I feel you must be warned, you may never return; and, if you do, you will never be the same. 

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