My wife and I were sitting on the couch last night playing some PS4 together, a totally regular game night. Now, as I said in my last encounter, I’m scared of the dark because of what happened, and absolutely ALWAYS lock all of my doors and windows at night. Despite this, while we were playing PS4 I began to hear what seemed to be the meow of an injured cat. It sounded like it was on my driveway. I paused the game and my heart was pounding because any random noises at night now put me on edge. Being an animal lover I could only ignore the meowing for so long. I mean I love animals, what can I say?

My wife also wanted me to go outside and check on the cat. Since I haven’t told her what happened a few months ago (and still refuse to tell her) she doesn’t really understand just how truly terrified I am at night. After about half an hour of constant meowing I decided to at least TRY to man up. So I got off the couch and grabbed my flashlight. I nervously  crept to the window next to the front door and peaked out of the curtains ever so slowly. Without even using the flashlight I could see the silhouette of a cat at the very end of the driveway and breathed a sigh of relief. I started the process of telling myself to man up and began slowly unlocking the front door and stepped outside. At this point, I was kinda proud of myself for even stepping one foot outside at night. I literally hadn’t done that in months, usually I’m in bed well before 11pm as I really don’t want to be awake when all the freaks come out. Honestly, my last encounter changed my entire perspective on reality. How many other  fowl creatures creep around at night without no one ever seeing them? This is the single most terrifying thought to me. What kind of unimaginably terrifying things tap on my windows at night that I’ve never seen or heard? Lord, my heart is thumping right now..


Anyway, as I was saying; I took a step outside into the front yard and felt the chilly night air brush past my face for the first time in months. It was kinda nice actually, at first. As I took a few more steps down the driveway, the stupid cat ran away into the street. Well it can’t be all that injured, I thought.  Maybe it was just on heat or something? I turned around and quickly walked back inside. Just as I sat down and unpaused my game, the stupid cat started meowing AGAIN. After about 45 minutes of this all up, I’d had enough. I knew it wasn’t hurt, I mean it was basically trolling me, so I got up again with the intent of chasing it away this time, so I stepped outside, turned on the flashlight and walked down the driveway. I had actually forgotten about being nervous for a brief moment. As expected the cat ran away again when I got close and I, being slightly irritated, chased it into the street. As it ran into a long patch of grass it turned and looked at me and the flashlight caught it’s glowing eyes. For some reason I kinda got spooked when it did that. Now this is where things got weird….It turned it’s head and disappeared…Hang on, what the heck? There was NO WAY something just vanished, I mean the patch of grass was relatively small and from where I was standing it couldn’t have gotten away without me seeing it. There was the small patch of grass and a solid metal fence behind it. No holes and the fence was too high for it to jump

This is where alarm bells started going off in my head. Suddenly I was freaked out again and after last time, there was no way I was going to stand there a second longer. I turned around and started fast walking back towards my driveway. Just as I crossed the line to my property I began to feel that familiar feeling of deep, deep dread. I kept thinking, Why the heck did I come outside? How stupid are you? In that moment, just as that last thought crossed my mind, a fowl smell brushed passed my nose. It sounds so typical but it really did smell like death, garbage and vomit mixed together. I bolted up the driveway to the door as fast as I could, I truly felt as though a predator was about to pounce and rip my guts out, just like last time. As I reached the front door I felt a thick, humid pocket of air blow past me. All these things combined scared the living shit out of me. I knew that stupid cat was a trap, but the animal lover in me refused to let a potentially hurt animal suffer. As I slammed the front door shut I turned around to lock it and was horrified to feel something blocking it from properly closing. My stomach is dropping just thinking of it…There were a huge set of hairy grey fingers stuck in the door…Disgusting, yellowish claws at the end of the fingers. I almost pissed myself and turned back around, let go of the door and ran through the sun room, slamming that door shut instead and locking it. There was no way I was going to try fighting with this thing to close the front door. Luckily, the sun room door is only a few feet directly in front of the main front door. By this point my wife realised what was happening and she was sitting on the couch curled into a ball just crying.

I’m not even sure if this was the same thing as last time as I didn’t see it’s face (thank god) but none the less I was just as completely and utterly terrified as last time. The ‘thing’ was banging on the sun room door for what seemed like hours. It didn’t even make a single noise other than that. I’m gathering it was big, really big. That hand was just…So unnatural. It looked like a paw mixed with a decrepit old mans hand. My wife and I locked ourselves in the bathroom for the rest of the night, just holding each other. We didn’t say a word. She was obviously feeling the same deep terror as I was. At some point we must have fallen asleep because I woke up on the bathroom floor around 7am when the light started shining through the window. I cautiously went to the front door to check ‘it’ was gone and fully expected it to have ripped the house apart. Oh yeah it was gone alright, but my main front door had been ripped off it’s hinges. It was laying on the porch, splinters of wood and screws all over the place. I think I need to consult a pastor about this. I can’t live comfortably knowing that this thing is still out there. I feel like I’m back to square one in terms of dealing with this emotionally, I mean what do you do in this situation? My wife and I are scared. Now even during the day, because we know that with each passing hour, the sun is getting closer to setting…

Don’t Be A Security Guard

To start off, I’d like to give you some background to how I ended up working the night shift of a security job at a pharmacy in the middle of nowhere.

Being fresh out of high school with no immediate plans to go off to college, I decided that getting a job would be worth while. I live in a small town just off of a highway in the mid west United States, and when I say small, I mean small. Our population’s no more than 700. As you can imagine, in such a tiny community there aren’t too many well paying jobs, especially for someone with only a high school diploma.

Luckily for me, my grandfather owned and managed his own 24-7 pharmacy/drug store, and was more than happy to offer me a decent salary job as a security guard. He called me up one morning, and said that he had an “opportunity for some cash.” For reference, I’m a fairly mesomorphic guy, and I stand a little over 6’3″, so I wasn’t at all intimated at the thought of doing a hands on job like that. He continued, telling me that I’d have to work the night shift, from 7 PM to 7 AM. I already was sort of a night owl, so I had no problem being fit into the night time shift. He made the job sound easy enough. I’d receive limited training from the senior security guard, a quiet guy named Don, and all I’d need to do is make rounds around the building, making sure no junkies are trying to steal their prescriptions worth, or anything like that. Eager to start, I agreed, and 3 hours later, I started driving to the building.

The pharmacy was in a real weird location. 13 miles down the highway from my town, there was a little strip mall directly off the road. It consisted of my grandfather’s pharmacy, a now-deserted Burger King, a cheap run down motel, and a gas station. The pharmacy was the largest of the buildings in the strip mall. It was maybe half the size of your average Wal-Mart, and it was at the far end of the lot, closest to the woods bordering the strip mall and the highway.

I arrived at 4:30 in the afternoon. My grandfather and the aforementioned Don were waiting out front, and greeted me when I stepped out of my car. After signing some paperwork, establishing direct deposit info, and basic training of how to perform my tasks, use the security equipment, and checking the camera recordings, I was good to go for my shift. All through out the training, Don was very quiet, and seemed distant or solemn. He was constantly looking off into the woods bordering the pharmacy. Whenever I tried to follow his gaze though, I couldn’t see anything. I remember this next part in great detail. Right before it started, my grandfather pulled me aside and told me this in his uncanny country accent: “We don’t get many visitors out here, son. Still gotta keep yer eye out though. If ya see any weird stuff happenin,’ just ignore it. It’ll go away on it’s own.” As soon as he finished speaking, he hopped in his pick up and drove off. Right away I thought this was weird, but didn’t bother questioning him about it, figuring he was just messing with me. With my shift starting in 30 minutes, I downed a red bull to make sure I had enough energy to do the entire 12 hours.

Come 7 o’ clock, only four people were in the building. There was me, Don, who was in the security room working the cameras, Margaret, the on duty pharmacist, and a guy who’s name I forget, so we’ll call him Jerry, who was Margaret’s tech and assistant. I spent my time sitting in the lobby area of the pharmacy at the back of the building, where the desk where you get your prescription filled is. It gave me a good view of the entire store as the shelves in the aisles were very short, and I was content that I wouldn’t miss any “criminal activity.”

4 uneventful hours later, I was pacing around the inside of the building, feeling somewhere between restless and bored. I noticed that we’d had no customers come in yet, but I thought it was normal considering the location of the building and time of day. That’s when my walkie-talkie crackled, and I heard Don’s monotone voice from the other end. “Rick, something moving outside right by the back entrance. Looked like a teenager effing around. Check it out, over.” As soon as what he said registered, I immediately felt off. I’m not normally freaked out, but I couldn’t fathom why a person would be behind an old strip mall in the middle of nowhere, at 11:15 at night. Hoping that either Don imagined it or the camera glitched, I replied with a quick “on it” and headed to the back entrance of the store.

I opened the back door, feeling slightly nervous, and didn’t see anything. Not at first, anyway. A single strip of fluorescent lights from above the back door illuminated the parking lot, and I looked it over to make sure nothing was out of the ordinary. That’s when I saw it. Standing maybe 60 feet away, right at the edge of the woods, there was a man, or at least what looked like a man. It was barely illuminated by the light, so I could just make out it’s silhouette, but man, it was tall. It was at least a foot taller than me. My stomach dropped, and I felt really unsettled. I did, however, want to do my job, and get this impossibly tall dude off the premises. I called out to it with a simple “hey!” Immediately after I said that, the thing took off straight into the woods, dissappearing from my sight almost instantly. Trying to rationalize it, I told myself it was probably a bear or something like that, even though the way it moved and stood looked nothing like any animal I’ve ever seen. Being very unsettled, but wanting to get the shift over with, I headed back inside.

This is where things take a turn for the worse. About 45 minutes later, it was exactly midnight. I remember because I was on my smartphone when it happened. I was back in the lobby of the pharmacy, when suddenly I hear loud noises all around me. I look up, and I see easily the scariest thing I’ve seen in my life. All the windows, which lined nearly the entire store, exploded. At once. Like they were all being crashed through at the same time. There was glass flying everywhere. I felt like I was in a war zone. Thankfully, It only lasted a few seconds. I couldn’t see anything that could have caused the event through the now empty window panes. I pinged Don. He didn’t answer, and once I confirmed that Margaret and the tech were okay, I ran to his office. Once I got into the security room, what I saw chilled me. Don was lying on the ground, with broken glass everywhere. His face was covered in blood. Apparently, when the glass explosion happened, it also affected all the monitors in the security room, sending massive splinters of glass into Don’s face. The monitors all looked like someone threw a grenade at them. They were all totally wrecked.

I called an ambulance, and they immediately took Don to the hospital. When the county police showed up, I explained to them what had happened. They would’ve thought I was crazy if it wasn’t for the pharmacy team backing me up. They took statements, did a quick search around the area, and left, assuring us through forced smiles it was “nothing to worry about.” Obviously, me and the other pharmacy staff decided to call it a night. With all the windows busted, the building was entirely freezing, and definitely not presentable to customers. We all were unsettled by what happened. I called my grandfather, leaving him a quick message, all though I imagine it was somewhat incoherent as I had no way of properly explaining what happened.

I might’ve been able to forget about the incident entirely, if it weren’t for what happened next. After locking up, as I was leaving, getting into my car, I noticed there was a figure standing across the parking lot from me, right by the dilapidated burger joint. Since this area was lit with proper street lights, I could make out the figure far more clearly. I know it was the same one from before cause of the height. In the light I could make it out easier. It stood around 9 or 10 feet, towering over the entrance to the Burger King. It was bipedal and looked human, but it definitely wasn’t. It wore a massive, tattered trench coat, with large tears and gashes in the fabric. The best way I could describe the coat is Aiden Pearce style, (cheers if you get that reference). Through the tears, I could make out its skin. It was pale grey, like heavily watered down cement, and leathery. It looked almost wet, even though it wasn’t raining. It was walking slowly, deliberately, with oddly bent joints. It looked horrifying. I instinctively turned the key in my car, and as soon as the engine flipped over and the Charger roared to life, the thing turned to look straight at me. Dead center. I swear, I made contact with it’s black, beady eyes. Seconds later, it turned, and took off sprinting at lightning speed. The way it ran, it moved it’s legs like a bird, but it was impossibly powerful and fast. It dissappeared from my view within seconds, and as soon as it was gone I floored it home.

I drove straight home without stopping, all the while paranoid about the thing following me. I got into bed and had a very sleepless night, the entire time imagining footsteps and scratching outside my window. Never again did I return to that strip mall. To this day, I have no idea what the thing was. I haven’t found a single matching creature from science or urban legend that fits its description. I do know that that thing was not human. I think it’s a fair possibility that the creature was responsible for breaking the windows and monitors, though I have no idea how, and I don’t care to find out. If there’s anything to take from this, don’t be a security guard for an isolated place like my granddad’s pharmacy. There’s no telling what might happen, and what you might see when you’re on duty.

The Basement

I am not a stranger to the paranormal. Ever since I was 12, I noticed we were not alone in this world. The story I am sharing is not my first experience, but the scariest so far.

I was 16 at the time. Due to my parents being divorced, I had to go see my father every other weekend. He recently moved to a new rental. This rental has a bit of a story. You see, the previous owner of it just let his animals die. We would always find bones in the yard. Being in the country side gave me very little things to due, and outside was not an option due to the landlords’ business was run on the same lot. Shortly, my right to stay upstairs in the living room was taken away by my step-mother. My room became my sanctuary.

My room was in the basement. As time went on, I started to notice a presence near my room. The presence slowly grew over time, but never bothered me during the day. I would always forget about it as I went to bed, but the presence was stronger when all the lights were off. I slowly became paranoid, so I turned on my favorite rock station to ease my nerves each night. Then the presence became over baring. I made the mistake of looking at my door as I tried to sleep.

Through the crack, a bright, golden orb appeared. I blinked, thinking I was just tired. The orb slowly turned into an eye ball. I made contact with a creature’s eye. The malice that came from that one contact was enough to force me to stay awake all night. The creature just stayed there, watching me. Each time I would move, the eye would follow. I could not turn on the lights, for the switch being right next to that door. Being the fool I was, I forgot my cellphone charger at my mom’s house. I was not able to reach my father. I was frozen in fear. No one would be able to help me.

I was awake for what seemed liked days. Not sleeping well the night before did not help me at all. I started to hallucinate without knowing, the laughter from the hallucination brought me back to reality. I was seeing spiders everywhere, this was a great shock due to my extreme fear of spiders. That is when I knew I had to get out of there. Not having a flashlight, I took a weird disco stick I got at some event. I ran for the door and turned on the lights. The creature was still there, but I had to get upstairs. The fear was getting worse by the second. I swing the door open and run for the stairs, the automatic lights tuned on as I ran up. I fumbled as I opened the door to the upstairs. Dread began to fill up. Once in the upstairs, I slam the door shut, locking it in the process. I looked out the front window to see the sun beginning to rise.

The after shock from the event kept me awake. I sat on the couch, with a small blanket on me. I doubled checked that all the doors were locked. Not that would help with anything, but it helped my mind calm down a little bit. I was out before my father got up, and they were all shocked to see that I was on the couch. I told them something was up with the basement, but they never believed me.  I would never get enough sleep for three months after the incident, but my father got another divorce and lives in a better place.

Recalling this experience is not kind to me, nor my memory. Only event that is still  completely vivid is that golden eye through the small crack of my door. I never felt fear like that before. I honestly have no clue what that thing was, or what it wanted with me. Who knows how long it had its sights on me. I will give my deepest sympathy to who lives there now, but hopefully my old bedroom is just a storage space like most basements should be.

The Shapeshifting Creature

I live in a small town in Ontario, which has it’s ups and downs. I was about 15 years old when this experience took place, and it has scarred me to this day. Living in place like Toronto, the crime isn’t high. I generally feel really safe where I live, not only since it’s a small town, but because this area wasn’t one to be trifled with. Crime wasn’t a biggie in these parts, and so I trusted almost everyone. Almost.

My house is located at the edge of my neighborhood, and across from my house is a small park. Behind that small park is a field, that has many hills, and a forest behind it. It is really quite beautiful, especially during the summer and fall. Canada is generally cold, and sometimes really does live up to it’s stereotype. I’m an outdoorsy kid, when the chance arises. Most of my time is spent playing video games in my room, but I don’t mind walks in the forest out back.

It was a Tuesday afternoon, which turned out mild and cloudy. Having grown up in British Columbia, I absolutely adored the rain and thunderstorms. I took the time to put on a hoodie, and joggers, and went on a walk. I set course for the woods, me being the adventurous type. Keep in mind, the forest was quite dense, but it wasn’t too big. As I approached the edge of the forest, I felt rain drops. It had started to rain, and it sounded as though it was picking up fast. I entered the dense tree line, and made my way through the woods.

I am no stranger to these woods either, I have been in them with friends a few times. Because of these older times, I have already discovered a homeless shack that was constructed in the forest. It had an old mattress, a makeshift bed, and even some torn up clothes hanging from wires that were strung across the roof. The shack was abandoned though, no one inhabited it, or even touched it for a long, long time.

I thought it would be pretty cool to take shelter from the rain in this little structure, as I love feeling cozy, and being in the great outdoors. I ran inside the shack, and listened to the sound of the rain tapping against the wooden boards. It was amazing. I felt so refreshed and alive, up until I noticed a horrible smell.

I looked behind me and noticed something that was never there before. A dead raccoon was laying on the bed, insides spewed out and -what looked to be- torn out. I backed away suddenly, but the sight wasn’t enough to disturb me. I’ve seen dead animals before, and they don’t phase me that much, as cruel as that sounds. I automatically came to the simplest conclusion, telling myself that an animal must have taken shelter here as well, and well, had a bite to eat.

That didn’t make comfortable though, and all the love for the rain had quickly diverted to worrying. I worried that this animal might come back soon, since the corpse looked fresh. I took in the sight and smell of the pouring rain and luscious trees, and got ready to leave, when a noise startled me. Over the pattering of the rain, a new sound came from behind the shack. Twigs and branches snapping underfoot, but it didn’t sound like normal footsteps.

They were heavy, as if a large man was walking across the foliage. The shack was small and compact, and it was just basically one big room. This left no room to hide, so with some quick thinking, I ran out into the forest ahead of me, trying to make the least amount of noise possible. I didn’t hide and inspect the culprit, because I was too afraid of the unknown. I just kept running.

I was halfway across the field, when I finally looked back. I honestly didn’t expect to see something, but I ended up seeing a tall, looming figure standing by the treeline. It scared the hell out of me. From my quick glance, I could tell that it was huge, I’d say about seven feet tall. It had long, slim arms and legs, and had eyeless sockets. I kept running, tears forming and descending down my cheeks as I ran. I remember tripping once, on some of the overgrowth in the field area. That was the moment I thought I was going to die, genuinely.

I managed to pick myself up, and got to my house. I slammed the door shut, and locked it. I closed all the windows and blinds, even though it was broad daylight, and my blinds were very thin. I started crying on the couch, and my mom came over to my aid. I just decided to tell her that I had ruined some of my clothing that I loved from the rain, because I slipped on some mud and fell on the ground.

My parents did spoil me, and always treated me like a child. Even though I was fifteen, my mom would have never turned me down for crying over something like ruined clothing. I thought whatever I saw was just some sort of nightmarish illusion, and I knew       I wasn’t going to sleep tonight.

The experience didn’t end there though, as what happened next tops everything in the forest. I had been on my computer, playing games with my friends, just trying to forget the whole experience. My mom was out at work, and had been for a while. She usually comes home around dinner time, and makes dinner while I, you guessed it, played more video games.

I was playing on my computer when I heard noises downstairs, like footsteps, and things moving around. I assumed since it was around dinner time that my mother had come home and was making dinner. After a few more minutes, I heard a call from downstairs.

“Dinner’s ready!” Came a voice, all to familiar. Something told me not to go down there, and I swear, this feeling hits me every time I recall this experience. I got up from my chair, and I opened my door.

“I’ll be down in a few minutes, just finishing up.” I called down.

“CHRIS, NOW!” That did NOT sound like my mother. It had her voice, but it was deeper, raspier. I knew it wasn’t her. My phone suddenly vibrated, and a text came in. It read, “I’ll be home in a few minutes” My heart sank. It was from my mom.

I heard footsteps coming up the stairs, so I dashed into my room and closed the door. My door doesn’t have a lock, so I went to my closet, and closed myself in. My heart was pounding, and I did my best not to whimper. Something opened the door to my room.

Peeking through the crack of my closet, I watched as my mom entered the room. I knew it wasn’t her though, since my mom didn’t have eyeless sockets, and red stains around her mouth, with her jaw extended. I covered my mouth, and I thought it was all over.

“Chriiiiiiissss….” It moaned.

A loud noise seemed to jolt the creature’s head up. The sound of the door slamming, and my mother coming in. The creature rushed out of the room, and I heard a window open in the hallway. The thing threw itself out the window, apparently my mom didn’t hear it. After a few minutes of silence, I came out, and went downstairs. I was skeptical when it came to seeing my mom, but eventually I came to terms that she was my mom.

The event still sends chills down my spine, and really gives me nightmares. It was truly a horrifying experience. We moved out of that house, and we are now living downtown. No one believes me.




Before I start, all of this is real. Everything in this story happened. I wish it wasn’t real. I wish I was making it up. And by the end of it, you will be wishing it was all a tall tale as well. But it isn’t. So sit down, buckle up, and hold on to your spare underwear because the scariest thing about this story is that it is 100% true. Nothing is exaggerated, and everything is told exactly how I remember it.

Now that the experience is finally over, I feel I can finally tell my entire story. I am not entirely human, and as such I am very sensitive to the spiritual realms. I always felt that I was something else because I never really fit in anywhere, able to see and sense things other people couldn’t see or didn’t believe were real. I later found out that I was a being known as a Deamon, which will become important later on.

Either way, I could see and interact with numerous spirits, including a mysterious large grey cat spirit who showed up from time to time. The cat will become important later on in this story.

Now, for a bit of background.

I have been plagued with misfortune for as long as l can remember. I was born to a teenage mother who never wanted me but was guilted into keeping me by her family and her religion. She married my father, but later betrayed and divorced him. She hated him and felt I was the mistake that ruined her life. As a result, she abused me throughout most of my younger life. Much of the story regarding my childhood is horrifying in its own right, even without the paranormal aspect. I was subjected to terrible abuse, both mental and physical. It all ties in with the main narrative, and is only one part of the misfortune that filled my life and everyone connected to me until recently.

Happiness was an elusive thing, dangled in front of me and taken away every time I felt like it might have been in reach. Many times throughout my life, I thought I was cursed. But every time I tried to clear the curse, I never could. It would always come back. Oftentimes with a vengeance. Churches and pastors tried to say possession, and I had several times where they tried to cast out demons, with no result. Failing that, I spoke with numerous psychics, but they were stumped. Nothing they suggested worked, and while they would often say there was nothing there, I would see nervousness and fear in their eyes. Nobody could stop the ‘curse’ and most people believed I was just overreacting to normal stuff that happens to everyone. I even started to believe that for a time, even if a part of me somehow always knew otherwise. No normal person went through everything that I did. With all of this said, I will now dive into the actual story.

The earliest incident I can remember was severe night terrors that happened when I was a child. It happened almost every night. I never slept well, and was always exhausted. When I was around eight years old, they got way worse. Shadowy things would approach me, creeping closer and closer. Moving like predatory beasts on the prowl.

These were not your usual shadow people. They were vaguely humanoid, but more like they were trying to mimic a humanoid form and failing miserably. They always looked wrong and unnatural, like vaguely human shaped eldritch horrors that could never just be imagined up in the mind of an innocent child. Twisted long limbed things surrounded by tendrils of blackness with wide mouths and burning pits for eyes. I’d often wake up bruised and shaking, crying, and unable to figure out what was going on.

The most eventful night was when one of the things, more distinct and horrifying than the rest, lunged at me. Its long, sickle-like claw fingers were reaching right for my chest. Everything was vibrating around me, my head was filled with a sickening heavy thrumming that was felt more than heard. I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t move. Just when I thought it was surely over and that I was going to die, a horrendous caterwauling feline scream filled the air around me as the mysterious grey cat spirit I had been seeing launched herself into the thing with her teeth bared and her claws out. The sound she uttered was like nothing I had ever heard, or have ever heard since. I have heard cats fighting but that could never compare to the shrieks coming from the grey spirit.

I will tell you now, this grey cat was never really a real cat. I knew nobody else could see her, and I always felt comfortable around her despite her massive size and odd looks. She was kind to me. She came and went as she pleased, and when she appeared the bad dreams would go away for a brief time. She gave me hope and respite.

She always appeared around the size of a cheetah but with the face of a domestic cat with a wide nose and rather angular features. Her eyes were golden yellow with slit pupils, and glowed in the darkness. She was long and lean, one tattered up ear and the area around her right eye scarred up as well. She always had this mysterious ancient and powerful air, like the stray cat in a neighborhood that nobody could claim as their own. She was stormy grey in color with lighter underparts and subtle tabby markings around her shoulders, forehead, tail and hindquarters. Her flesh was a dull pinkish color and she had elongated canine teeth, almost like small sabers. Her most distinctive feature was her tail. It split halfway down, becoming two tails that moved independently of each other. The name that has always stuck in my mind when I saw her was “Greymalkin”.

As Greymalkin attacked, the thing hovering over me let out a shriek of its own and fought back. Greymalkin continued to shriek and caterwaul in a stunning display of the vocal ranges of a cat and all I could see was a blur of evil thing and grey cat fighting, splatters of black fluid flying everywhere, and a bit of her blood as well.

Eventually, everything went quiet and the thing faded away and vanished. I was still completely unable to move until I felt the cool touch of a damp nose against my forehead and the rumbling purr of a very large feline. I felt my breath return. I immediately began to sob uncontrollably. Greymalkin licked the tears away and continued to purr until I calmed down, then stayed beside me throughout the night, stretched around me with her head resting gently on my chest. She left around the sun’s first light, though my forehead tingled throughout the day where she had touched me.

That night, I discovered I could control my dreams. When the thing returned, I forced myself to move, and became something bigger and scarier and scared it away. Greymalkin showed up in my dreams many times after that. The night terrors stopped. Greymalkin had given me a gift; the ability to control my dreams and I could finally sleep in peace.

It was a small comfort in light of everything else, because around the time I was 9-10, my mother remarried, got pregnant, and had a miscarriage. It changed her and I saw her start to slowly go mad. She pulled me out of public school and decided to homeschool me. When she gave birth to my oldest little brother when I was 11, it went from bad to worse. She favored him, and everything he did was blamed on me. He was her miracle child and could do no wrong, I was the miserable mistake that ruined her life. I was beaten black and blue and abused on a daily basis for different reasons each time. Even forced to sleep on the floor with no blankets or pillows… or, even, outside with the dogs once or twice. Forced to sit for hours in an agonizing position called the “Thinking Position” for reasons only she understood. It was always my fault, always something I did wrong, always came back to the fact that I was the mistake that ruined her life and that her life would be perfect if I was gone. I was never allowed to go out, had no friends and no social interaction. Made to eat nothing but peanut butter sandwiches with no jelly for months at the time. I still can’t smell peanut butter without nearly throwing up.

When I was sent to spend time with my step dad’s mother, I was afraid to come back home and kept claiming that there were demons waiting for me, but only because that was the only thing I could think of at the time. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew something, or somethings, were watching me sleep.

Every time I became attached to a toy or item, my mother felt that it was “Taking the place of God” in my life and she’d take it away. Everything I loved was taken away, and I became complacent and just sorta let it happen. There was nothing I could do about it and I was slowly being broken into thinking I really was the problem. Even then, a part of me always remained strong. Some spark deep within that kept me from giving up. But that only angered my spiritual stalker even more.

Any time I found some light, some hope, it was ripped away from me. I could always see that eldritch horror on the side of my vision, off whooshing sounds and tendrils of darkness reaching from underneath anything dark to grab me,sense the heaviness nearby. I could faintly hear its deathly cackling sometimes, like the grating of a guttural unnatural voice gargling salt and gravel. Subtle… if I tried to focus on it, nothing. It only became clear if I wasn’t paying attention to it. I often heard voices speaking in similar tones and figures looming over me as I tried to drift off to sleep each night.

Unsurprisingly, my sleep remained terrible, even with my ability to control my dreams, I couldn’t control the thing that appeared in them. It wasn’t part of the dream, it was something else entirely. I knew that much. I could do things in my dreams to protect myself, but it was touch and go and meant my sleep was not very restful. I had to stay on my toes at all times. When I saw Greymalkin, I had more strength, and the thing would back off for a time, but she wasn’t constantly there. She never directly did anything for me aside from when she stopped the thing from ripping out my heart or whatever it wanted to do, and I believe she was trying to give me the strength or kept me on my toes whenever I started to grow weak.

When my mother had a second child, when I was around 13 or so, it got worse and worse until I completely lost my room and was sleeping on the living room floor for months or even years without a blanket or pillow. I lost track eventually. She felt that my “rebellion” was not ending and she took it to more extreme measures. I was sent to a camp to be brainwashed at 15 years old. That really is the only way to describe it. I won’t even begin to get into what they did to me in an effort to force me to follow religion, but it was stuff that I am fairly sure is illegal and I am not at all sure how they got away with it and I am amazed that I did not take my life during that time. Any time I considered it, Greymalkin would show up and I would feel just enough of a flicker of hope to keep going.

All the while, this eldritch horror thing continued to follow me. It continued to mock me, day in and day out, stalking around my hard miserable little cot at night, which was only minimally better than sleeping on the floor. At least I had a pillow and thin blanket.

I felt it stalking behind me whenever we went outside, causing the others at the reformation camp to think I was possessed. They tried to do exorcisms on me… which never worked. Nothing rid me of the thing, of the curse. They forced me to pray in an awkward and subservient position for several hours a day several times a day, but whenever I did, all I felt was an intense, pressing evil. Like clawed fingers digging into my temples. As the horrible feeling grew more intense, I felt as if I lost control of my body, the thrumming and vibrating and lack of movement from my dream. That terrible looming figure laughed wickedly in my mind as alien words rolled off my tongue. It left me quivering and shaking, and while the others rejoiced that I had made some sort of “spiritual breakthrough”, all I wanted to do was cry. They thought I was speaking in tongues, but I tasted blood and burning, as if the words were never meant to be spoken by the tongue of a human. Everything felt wrong, and while they were rejoicing that I had “made a spiritual breakthrough” and was “Speaking in tongues” all I could do was tremble and cry. They mistook it for joy. When I looked up, all I saw was those eldritch horrors standing all around me with their gaping mouths and burning eyes, sickle clawed fingers reaching for me. I passed out. After that, I never truly prayed again and faked it from then on.

Eventually, I think they caught on that something was off, and they kicked me out of the program feeling that I was “Unredeemable”.

I was sent back to my mother. I was both horrified (They had me brainwashed into firmly believing that I would go to hell unless I completed their program) and relieved, because I absolutely hated their program that stole my freedom and made me feel like less than a person. When I returned home, I was blamed for everything all over again. The abuse continued until my step dad had me sent away to my grandmother soon after I turned 16. He had no idea how bad it was, but knew I was miserable there. I also think he wanted to focus on his own children rather than his wife’s previous mistakes, even though he claimed that he didn’t think differently of me. Either way, he was not aware of the full scale of abuse and sending me away may have very well saved my life because I was just so close to ending it all once again, I was so broken and miserable.

I saw Greymalkin again, and I was happy because it meant that I would have some respite. When she showed up, things were less dismal for a time, after all.

I thought my life would finally improve. Once I reached my grandparents, the curse was forgotten. I was allowed to draw… I was allowed to be creative. My true self wasn’t being crushed and stifled, and I felt like I could actually breathe fresh air for once in my long, dismal existence.

I started to open up and learn. I met new friends, had new experiences. I learned to think for myself, and gained strength as a person. I met a friend who was like a sister to me. I also realized that religion wasn’t right for me, and followed my own path as a spiritual atheist. Life was good, I was discovering myself. I was coming into my own. But alas, it was never meant to be, and the respite never lasted. Now was no exception.

The next major night terror happened soon after I decided to follow my own path. Far, far worse than my first. I remember the dream in intense detail, and I couldn’t control it, which scared me even more. It started off mundane enough. I was in my bed at my grandparents, but in the dream I was sleeping over at my friends house. I remember hearing her speaking in hushed tones to her mother, who was speaking loudly. She was telling her to keep it down so I could sleep. I opened my eyes to see the back of a filing cabinet, nicked up with half peeled stickers on the back. It was tan. Annoyed at her mother’s loud speaking, I tried to move and shift to emphasize the fact that she was waking me up. That… was when it turned bad. The bed began to shake violently and the world dropped away around me as I was surrounded by pure blackness. Whispers, icey cold and intensely burning hot at the same time, claws and rattling chains the and cackling and gargling whispers of those things surrounding me. A threatening feeling overtook me. A voice. “You will never get away. You will see what happens when you try.” whispering in my ear. The worst of it was the pure blind terror like I had never felt in my life. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, could hardly even think. I managed to break out of the dream, but I couldn’t open my eyes or move, and when they finally opened a slit the thing lunged towards my face, then vanished. As soon as I could move, I screamed.

I screamed until I swear my throat bled, and couldn’t sleep for weeks after that, sitting upright in bed in a quivering mess. I couldn’t turn off any lights, and barely ate. I knew it was more than a dream.

I didn’t tell anybody about it, feeling they’d think I was crazy, but I was truly and horribly shaken. Eventually, though, I calmed down though I slept with a light on for months. I slowly returned to normal, spending time with my friends, one of which was like a sister to me. We hung out all the time, talked every day and I even went to her house several times.

All good things come to an end for me, however, and one day, out of nowhere, my friend just snapped. There was no reason, no lead up. It just went from being close friends to absolutely hating my guts. She turned on me, turned my other friends against me and left me alone and miserable. I sank into another deep depression, refused to eat until I was thin and weak. The friend she turned against me realized what happened and came to apologize. She got worried that I had stopped contacting anybody and even refused to come to school. She came by and forced me to eat and helped me recover slowly.

The other friend’s insanity was sudden. Around this time, I started to notice a pattern. Triple threes would show up. It was a curiosity at first, but that soon turned to dread when I realized that number always showed up before things went bad.

Soon after that, I turned 18. My grandma never treated me well because I think she believed my mother that I was “Rebellious” or something, which was odd because I was always a quite and well behaved person, even as a teenager. I never went out and did anything stupid, never touched a drug or alcohol and never went stupid places where I could get hurt. I was quite and respectful. But her views on me changed the instant she realized I wasn’t Christian. She threw me out on the streets.

A friend took me in so I wouldn’t die on the streets. All seemed well for a time, but as was usual for me, it didn’t last. Her uncle threw me out after his deranged girlfriend tried to attack me with a knife and I broke her wrist defending myself. I had to panhandle enough money to take a train to another state so I wouldn’t be on the streets again.

All the while, the heavy feeling never left. I started seeing psychics, but none of them could figure it out or looked too confused and frightened and ushered me out of the room dismissively. I never got any answers. Only the fake ones said good things. The real ones looked haunted and pale.

I managed to get enough money to buy a train ticket and make my way to Wisconsin, where another online friend took me in.

Once again, I was sure things would finally start looking up for me. I met someone who seemed nice, and got a steady job. But, as was a trend with me, the nice didn’t last. He turned out to be a manipulative, emotionally abusive jerk.

It went from bad to worse when I lost my job. A close friend of mine started to go crazy. She started to see the thing I was seeing. She started to talk strangely. The things she said were just not her. It got worse and worse no matter how much I tried to save her. I tried to give her strength, I tried to talk her through it, but she went between elated about a shining being she called a sun god, to horrified and sobbing and shaking in voice chat that something was watching her. Nothing I did helped.

She committed suicide, and I knew that thing had done it. She was driven mad by the thing that was stalking me, then died at its hands, driven to suicide. I was devastated. She was like a sister to me. I loved her dearly. I was also terrified.

One thing after another happened, leaving me exhausted and weak and struggling just to stay off the streets. I couldn’t keep a job no matter how hard I tried and my ex got worse and worse as time passed. He would eat everything that was in reach, leaving me to have to hide and eat cold chili out of a can and drink warm soda. Five years, I lived in that hell. I was giving up, fast. FIve times I nearly attempted to commit suicide, but my cats stopped me, cuddling closer to me and giving me something to live for.

Even still, I was breaking.

Greymalkin showed up again. She gave me a ray of hope. But by then, I was so broken it was only a thin ray in the complete darkness that had overtaken me. Soon after that, I was given the help to get away from my ex. My online friend and his brother came down and picked me up, keeping my ex from trying anything as I moved my belongings into a pod, and was driven from Wisconsin to Kentucky.

I was safe. I thought it was over, but I am sure all of you know exactly what happened next, misfortune soon followed. It struck my now husband, my friend’s brother. The closer I got to him, the more he was suffering my ill luck, but I didn’t want to be alone. I knew whatever it was was affecting him, but I didn’t want to leave him for my own selfish reasons. We had found a kindred spirit, and he helped me discover that I was a Deamon-soul… as was he. We were meant for eachother, and we got closer and closer as time passed. I often confided in him about the curse, but he didn’t believe I was cursed and like everybody else, he just thought I was overreacting to little things. And I, once again, became complacent and thought maybe I was. Maybe it was all just a coincidence.

We eventually married… and had a child. We were happy, and something lured us to move to Florida, though we didn’t know at the time that it was a trap. Once there, our misfortune got exponentially worse. Spiritual attacks left and right, nothing ever going right. Sick constantly, his panic attacks getting worse.

Our young son was taken away on a false call to CPS by somebody we tried to help but later betrayed us despite ample proof that he wasn’t neglected. As we tried to find an open adoptive home since we knew they’d never give him back to us with the lies they were spouting. His foster mother beat him to death. He would have been in his new home within a week or two.

The thing came in closer and closer. I felt it. My husband felt it. I was too broken to care after the untimely death of my little one, who was no older than 17 months at the time. Somehow, I prevailed. My husband and I made it through, and we started to heal…. Before being falsely arrested, injured and treated as less than human. That also nearly broke us, with brutal treatment and fear with such fresh wounds still not healed.

We spent agonizing months in Florida, Hell I was calling it, fighting for our very freedom against false charges as our names were slandered to the point where we couldn’t go out in public without feeling uncomfortable. We finally got some hope. We got a lead, and decided to move out of Florida… but the closer we got to moving, the more everything was trying to stop us. It got dragged out for months. I was about to just give up as things were getting so tauntingly close then blowing up in our faces time and time again.

A very close online friend finally revealed the identity of the thing that had plagued me all my life. She helped me find its name.

Rag’hedara. The Ruin. The Madness. The Desolate One. The Hunter. Rag’hedara is very malignant cosmic entity, who drives anyone who witnesses it completely mad. Anyone it targets, it will stalk for their entire life. It will drive their friends and family away or kill them one by one, isolating and breaking its prey down until nothing but a husk remains. It then goes in for the kill, devouring their tortured soul to turn them into one of its many spawn. Even ancient sigils like the Elder Sign are ineffective against it, but it has a strong dislike for anything pine related and pine incense or pine trees will keep it, and its spawn, somewhat at bay. At least, for a time. It plagued the life of Lovecraft himself, filling his sleep with nightmares and horrible dreams and glimpses of a reality beyond human understanding, that he wrote into his books until he succumbed to its wiles. It appeared as vaguely humanoid from the waist up, with three huge shadowy tentacles sprouting from its back and shoulders and a mess of smaller ones all around.

My friend and I employed the help of a few friends with spiritual helpers, and we thought it was defeated, but it was a wiley, clever thing and just kept coming back. Each time it came back, more misfortune struck my husband and I. Things would seem to get better, only to blow up again. A constant up and down that was making us sick, weak, and intensely stressed out.

My husband started having the same horrible dreams as my friend who had killed herself. It was trying to kill him, and I utterly snapped. It had taken several friends from me, turned my family against me, taken my son from me, and was now trying to take my husband away from me. The only thing I had left. It was trying to strangle out my connection to the Tree of Life. My Deamon side awakened in an explosion of white fire. I tore and burned away the tendrils that were choking off my branch of the Tree of Life, shattered the source, and attacked the thing with all I was until it was consumed. Flickers of spiritual flame could be sensed all the way to the highway near the apartment complex. I thought it was over, but it was only one fragment of the thing. It was merely weakened. Rag’hedara went from having three large tentacles, to two.

Immediately after that, things looked up. Our brother was able to help us move out of Florida, to a nice house in Colorado, somewhere far better. Rag’hedara continued to send its spawn after us, but my white fire consumed them instantly. It tried to attack our plane as it took off. It followed us to our new home in Colorado. All of its efforts were in vain.

As we settled in triple threes started to show up again, but I had stopped being afraid. I had hurt it once. I wasn’t going to stand by and let my husband and I’s new start in our new home be ruined. I had entirely enough of Rag’hedara’s crap. I used my lucid dreaming ability to enter the astral plane and defeat it once and for all. It took several nights. I had to rip off its remaining two tentacles, tear through its layers of protection to get to its core. The Hunter became the Hunted, and it knew it. Every night that I slept, I slipped into the astral plane. I hunted it down, and I attacked. Every time it fled I tracked it down all over again. And finally… it was done. I reached its core. I destroyed the darkness, the evil that had plagued me my entire life.

After a long horrifying ordeal that lasted my entire life, from birth to my 28th year, it is finally over. I can finally rest. Rag’hedara is no more, and will never hurt anyone ever again. My husband and I can finally have peace. The air feels lighter and better, my husband has an amazing job prospect that will have us doing really well. I feel alive again. Things have stopped going wrong aside from the normal inconvenience that every person experiences. The numbers have stopped showing up.

I will tell you now, spirits and entities are very real. Entities beyond your wildest imaginings exist. Entities so strange and hostile that one look at them can shatter your very mind. Not everyone has the soul of a Deamon, or the aid of spiritual friends or other beings like Greymalkin.

Let’s just hope that one of these entities doesn’t try to target you next…



Update: When I destroyed Rag’hedara, when I reached his Core, I found that there was a fragment of something within that core that was not evil. It turned out that it was his true self, from before he was corrupted and sent to plague me. Rag’hedara is now a close constant companion who does everything he can to keep me safe. This fragile little spark died, but I nursed him back to health with the same white fire that had destroyed the darkness that had gripped him.

Having recovered considerably, Rag’hedara refuses to leave my side and is incredibly protective of me. The story itself is horrifying; but the outcome gives hope that not everything is quite as it seems.