Withering Away

The girl is startled by my presence. She feels the air I am breathing in the room, and she knows what I want. I am like death, and death is never fair. I know what she is thinking. To pass off my presence as something else that is harmless; something that you wish was there instead of me. It is useless. I know everything she does. I poison the air she breathes with my presence.

I vex her dreams, until she is forced to wake up. I am death, and I haunt my victims til they accept their fate, and give into me.The girl’s name is Taylor. I am perceptible only to her. She has recently visited a psychologist about being haunted by me. They pass it off as being sleep deprived from her stressful job. She can’t escape me.

Today, Taylor refuses to accept my presence. She believes that there is no haunting. She sits on her bed, and listens to her iPod. She is at ease. I yank out her headphone. She jumps, and makes a guttural noise. I walk out of her room, and slam the door. I’m here. She can’t escape me.

It has been three days, and I have left her. She believes there is nothing. She is lighter. A smile greets everyone from her face now. That night, I walk through her attic loudly. The pounding footsteps of mine almost match the beating of her heart I can her through the floor. I laugh at her. She knows me. I visit her every night for the rest of the week, and I watch her sleep. Sometimes I even enter her dreams. But I don’t do much. I chill her heart by just letting her feel my presence.
By now you must wonder what I am, and what I do. I am something that greets everyone eventually. I am not a ghost, or a demon. I’m not anything. I am everything. I am the chill that runs down your spine when you have a nightmare. I am the metaphorical fetters that chain you to the underworld. My job is to come to you, before it is time to take you away. Taylor is one of my many victims. This is the only information I may tell you.


Taylor is awakened in the dead of the night by me. I have walked into her room, and have thrown open the curtains. The light of the moon shines on me, and my shadow appears on the wall directly behind me. I hear her scream as it makes it way up her throat. But before it comes out, I slip away, leaving behind nothing. Now I must wait.

This is what I have been waiting for; Taylor has contacted people about me. She is convinced I exist now. I have made a mark on her. It only gets worse from here on out for her. She is having one of her friends stay with her tonight. This is perfect, yet this could completely beguile Taylor’s fear of me. Her friend is setting up a sleeping mattress in Taylor’s room while I watch with a leer.They cannot comprehend what I shall do to them tonight.
Her friend is falling deep into slumber, yet Taylor is staring right at me. She is looking pallid, which seems to be a wont of hers lately when I’m around. This indicates to me that her time is coming closer. I wait til she is slightly asleep. I dive through the ceiling and straight into her.
She doesn’t have time to fight me inside her body. I induce her to let me in. She is weak from the day, and too surprised this is happening. I am in control of her now. Her body’s purpose for me tonight is to help me grab things and touch things that I normally can’t. I sit up in her bed. Her world around me is familiar, but unlike my own.
I walk down the halls of her home. In her kitchen are the knives and matches, just like in almost everyone’s home. I take the matches tonight. Death by fire is worse than bleeding out in her friend’s opinion. I light one of them and walk upstairs. When I am in Taylor’s room, I lay the match down on her friend’s mattress. I wait til it has become large enough to soon engulf her. then I wake her friend up.
I cannot speak in Taylor’s body, for her friend will realize it’s not her. The screams are just perfect, like a polyphony to my ears. I wait until the fire has become to large and damaging to put out, then I leave Taylor’s body. My work for the night is done.

Neighbors have heard the screams, and the fire has subsided. But her friend’s incinerated and mangled corpse is too hard to hide. Taylor is mortified, she doesn’t remember what happened, but she sheds enough tears to drown someone in her sorrow. Police are coming. I watch in pride of my work from her attic.

Smoke alarms had gone off a little earlier, but they were drawing my attention away from the scene, so I stopped them. This isn’t even the best part of my night, and I am delighted to a point where I quietly laugh. Taylor shrieks at the thought of me still around. When the cops enter, she will certainly be seen as insane. This is my job. My nights work now is to sit back, and enjoy my show.

Taylor is in a cell. Bags have been under her eyes since the fire. She refuses to eat some days when I haunt her badly. Other days, she sits in remorse, thinking about nothing but wanting to die. I am not human, therefore I feel no guilt over putting her here. A few of her family members and close friends have come to visit her, and try to talk to her. She never talks back, she just sits and stares blankly at her hands.
Speaking of which, her hands have burn marks on them. I enjoy seeing her stare at them so much. It reminds both of us of the fire. When I really desire it, I listen in on her deepest thoughts, and she doesn’t stop thinking about that night. It sends a light, bubbly feeling throughout me, to know that my job has effected her so much.
But when she doesn’t think of the fire, she thinks of ways to rid herself of me. This is a problem, considering I cannot have her trying to destroy me. She has thought about what I am. A ghost? A demon? But I am neither. Her cell is always quiet. She always sits on the metal bed, thinking about these things. I lean against the wall. Being is prison has given her a lot of time to ponder about my actions.

On the other hand, the prison is quite intriguing. When Taylor is asleep, I hone in on other victims. It has helped me in thinking of what to do to her next. Some of the prisoners have committed crimes of murder, others have thieved, etc. Others have the same situation as Taylor does. They are possessed by something like me.

Taylor is coming to the end of her stretch with me. She isn’t eating, and isn’t sleeping. If I wanted to, I could take her now. But in order for her to get what she must deserve, I am not allowed to do that. So I watch as she decays to nothing. She has given up on ridding me from her life, and has decided to just die instead.

It is a fairly smart plan, but I still sit in her cell every day, haunt her every night, even though she doesn’t sleep at very much at night anymore. So I have made the fate of her life for her. Tomorrow is when I finish my work with her. After that, no one knows what happens. I am only one phase in the whole plan for her. I shall leave her for awhile, and scheme what to do with her. She is safe to rest for the time being until I come back.

Tonight is the night. She is peacefully asleep when I find her. She needs to be asleep, and well rested so she can run if needed. I sit in the floor above her cell. As I look closer, she is naturally pale and pasty now. There are other effects that I have done to her, but you cannot see them all. I sink into her body, slowly this time, so she knows that I am taking her over this time.

Once I am in, I sit up, and walk towards the bars. I slide in between them, and float along the floor. Any prisoners are asleep. I have made sure they stay that way too. I end up in the kitchen of the prison, just like last time. I shall switch it up. I grab a knife, and float back to her cell. I cut her wrists, and a moan is released from her within me. and take my fingers to the blood. Her hands are mangled and wrinkled. Dipping her infinitesmal fingers in the blood, I run them over the walls, writing what I always make victims write.

“In pace requiescat.” I force Taylor to whisper. The letters that form these words on the wall start to drip. By the time someone finds her, they will have dried. The cuts have started to spill out amounts of her blood, and they form deep scarlet puddles around her. She looks ghastly and pale. Her eyes are hallow, and I cannot bear to look in them for too long.

But I don’t have to look in them anymore. I do what is required of me, and leave her. I shall never see her again. In a sense, she is forever rid of me. I cannot tell you what happens to her from here on out.





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SUNDRY said...
Nov. 16, 2010 at 6:19 am

WELL, I LOVED THIS UNIQUE WAY OF WRITING A GHOST'S FEELINGS IN THE FIRST PERSON!!!!!! THAT WAS VERY CREATIVE!!!!! I KNOW THAT YOU HAVE A FLAIR FOR WRITING AND YOUR THIS FLAIR, IF PRACTISED, CAN TAKE YOU TO HIGH PLACES!!!!!!!!!! BY THE WAY, CAN YOU CHECK OUT SOME OF MY WORKS?????????? I FEEL IT IS NEVER AS BLOOD CURDLING AS IT IS SUPPOSED TO BE. I THINK MINE IS THE WORST IN THE THRILLER SECTION. BUT PLEASE, PLEASE CHECK AND REVIEW MINE!!!!!!

 

 
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