Dealing with demons others will never see. Never saying anything so as to not be an inconvenience rather than out of fear of judgment.
Shadows appeared just out of sight, disappearing too quickly to see. That's normal, right?
It slowly got worse. Sights mentioned in passing were never fully acknowledged.
As a kid, it started with a man in a jacket, covered in shadows. He stood and watched. Always watching.
He was there, squatting in the living room, in front of the couch when I woke up to use the restroom.
No fear, yet not at ease.
He then was on the roof of the cafeteria at school.
Then standing in the backyard. Another sight mentioned in passing was brushed off.
Next was the building. Or at least, that was the next thing that appeared to be false.
A wrecked, abandoned-looking building sat at the edge of the freeway just past where asphalt met gravel; where gravel met grass. The grass sloped down into a hill, the space absent of trees, except for one that looked as worn down as the house. A street curved down the hill to the left of the house, disappearing behind the house. A chain link fence ran by the road, halfway down the hill, before it stopped.
That lasted months.
I never noticed something was wrong.
Yet another thing that was mentioned in passing that was brushed off.
The image eventually disappeared with one last surprise, finally revealing the true look of the area.
A large... person? It stood in front of the building proud and tall, at least seven feet tall. It was a shadowy swirl of black and red with solid black horns protruding from its head. It left hand was held out holding a thin, pale woman in its large hand. She laid, unmoving. She had long blond hair that nearly touched the ground below. She wore a pristine, white dress that went down to her ankles. The dress had sleeves with intricate patterns. It stared, making eye contact as the car passed slowly in the heavy traffic. Looking out the car window, making eye contact, no more comments were made.
The sight, so ridiculous, so strange, could never be true. It was ignored. It was then it was decided it would always be ignored.
Next were the sounds.
Someone calling out by name, yet no one is in the house. Footsteps walking up to the bedroom door. Different, heavier footsteps walking to the bed.
It was normal. It was common. Everyone has experienced such things before, right?
Next was the 'door' to the attic.
It was more of a crawl space above the house.
One night, it was open.
That was ignored.
Everything was calm for a while, until fifteen.
Everything wasn't forgotten, only not acknowledged.
A man stood on the side of the road. His face was white, as if a skin-tight cloth was pulled over his face. He stood in the street, watching the car as it passed. The relatively short man was around five feet tall. He was clad in a black suit, with a white dress shirt under it and a red tie.
No eyes, yet watching.
Why?
Why?
This isn't normal, is it?
Laughing the experiences off, refusing to acknowledge them.
How much longer?
Why is it happening?
What are these sights?
Hallucinations?
How can place trust in sight and hearing when they constantly betray?
It's easy to tell if somethings not right if it is so bizarre, it doesn't make sense.
But when it does...
A man crossed the street. He wore beige shorts, a red shirt, and a red baseball cap. Out of sight for a second.
He was gone.
The only other person walking on the street was gone. There was no where to go.
I know what I saw.
Anxiety.
Oh.
Oh no.
No.
No.
No.
No.
No.
No.
No.
Then the paranoia started.
There someone watching, just out of sight.
I know it. I can feel it.
I want to look out the windows in hopes of catching a glimpse. But what if they see me as I see them.
Dread.
No.
No.
No.
No.
No.
No.
I can't do that. I couldn't do that.
I was watched. The beings that never scared me watched.
A cloaked figure peeked around the corner into the kitchen. It only ever appeared when I was working in the kitchen. It watched.
I wore a blanket covering me. It was over my head as if it was a cloak of my own.
I tried to turn around as little as possible.
I didn't want to see what waited behind me.
It always watched.
It waited.
Always watching, no eyes.
Once I turned. There were three. The one that peeked around the corner watched. A clawed, shadowy hand clung to the door frame. Another stood in the center of the door frame, its legs shoulder-width apart. Its' clawed hands rest by its side. One squat on the counter. It was made of black and grey swirls in a wood-like texture.
I stopped working in the kitchen after that.
There were more. All at once.
More jokes were made to myself in a pathetic attempt to remain sane.
Fear.
Oh no.
No.
No.
No.
NO.
NO.
NO.
NO.
Please.
Next was outside of a fast food place. Coming out of the drive-through, in front of a truck stood a girl. Long, unkempt, tangled, black hair covered her face. She wore a ragged, torn, dirty school uniform.
Next was in my house. A large, cloaked figure stood by the back door while I looked through my refrigerator. The figure was hunched over, nonetheless its' back grazed the roof. It's face was obscured by the black cloak.
No eyes.
They never have eyes.
Maybe that's why I didn't question it. Not at first.
The faceless figure.
When I first saw it, I ignored it.
Another hallucination.
It wasn't.
I know it's not.
I promise.
I know.
I'm sure.
I'm not crazy.
This is real.
It always watches, just out of sight.
Anguish.
NO.
NO.
NO.
Please.
Stop.
STOP.
Please.
The mere thought of it seems to give it strength. It's watching, even now.
I know it.
I KNOW IT.
It shouldn't be real.
But I know it is.
I know.