“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” Pslam 23:4


I sat on the cool couch watching television, the air sending chills down my spine, as if someone had been breathing on my neck, whispering something to chill my mind. Ease my conscious, but they weren’t successful.

The ice machine in the kitchen would crack occasionally as it fell down, and the fan would speed up as it had just remember it was on high. I heard my soda glass fall over and what was once full had become empty, and there was no evidence of the spillage remaining.

My mother had said, “You probably got sick because the devil doesn’t want you coming to church,” she said as my entire family left and the door closed shut concealing me in silence.

Something smelled like it was burning and I ran all over the house looking for the source, until I found the oven and the bird inside crying to get away from the screaming heat.

I turned looking for an oven mitt, and back to the oven where marked in the fog was,
Olivia, let us take you.

I slammed into the counter behind me and screamed, “Someone help me!”

Books in the living room came flying from their shelves and I heard a shriek, “Tell no one,” something breathed in a hushed scream.

A book crashed into my chandelier causing glass to shatter everywhere. I watched as the grandfather clock tipped over and sent wood, and glass shards flying all over the place. A globe was thrown at my chest and my head fell back against the counter, as I slid down the cabinets. My brow was wet but I didn’t dare glance up.

I locked myself in the bathroom and turned out the light. I sat panting on the step stool until a faint light was breaking through the mirror. You wouldn’t believe how fast I whipped that door open. And then the door entirely untouched slammed back shut behind the standing hairs on my back.

The floor broke through, something crashed out but even if it had stayed for a second, it was gone. I felt a grazing pain along my back and shrieked, I felt hands on my head compressing my skull.

The rough hands were breaking the cartilage in my ears, my cheeks were soaked with blood, sweat, and tears. It nearly felt metallic, but with what seemed to be a brand new red marker, written on the door was,
Olivia, get out!
Let us show you the way!

My mind raced as I ran wild through the house until I ran to the stairs and saw a screaming, fluorescent body approaching me. It was how slow it was that scared me the most. Barely moving as it floated down the stairs. I was paralyzed. When my mind gained control of my body I began backing into the front door… almost. Cold hands pulled me hard and a scratchy voice hissed, “Let us take you.”

“No, please, go! Leave now! Please!”

The one from the stairs still approaching in it’s zombie-like motions, slid over to the piano. Of all things it played, Ode to Joy, the sound melted into the theme of the red swirling walls.

The music only got edgier as the pianist turned his head in a complete three-sixty to watch me. Then the knives on the dining room table came into the creatures view. One began to float carefully and it was twisting and turning until it was directly facing me. I squealed at the impact and I gripped my forearm. I cursed under my breath and look at the glow. If this is the light you see before death, there was no doubt in my mind that I would be doomed to burn in the pits of Hell.

I struggled out of the grips of the one that held me, and it willingly let go when I plucked the knife out. I turned knife in hand and stabbed the creature, but my hand went through it’s body and the knife shattered the glass door. I dropped the knife and fell down, “Leave me alone, please,” I kneeled there begging.

They left me awhile while I ran to my room. In the light of my bathroom I saw a shadow, and the face of the boy that lived next door, such a beautiful face. He opened his window to greet me, “What, Olivia, what happened?”

“Them, they, please help me, please help, they’re here! Help me!’

I watched them walk behind them with a rope, I slapped my hand over my mouth and pointed behind him.

“Olivia what…” he was cut off, the rope pulled tight around his throat, and there he was, halfway down the side of his house, hanging.

They were gone in an instant, but I waited watching the rope indent in my neighbor’s throat, until the rope slackened and he fell.

They began painting in red again against my neighbor’s pale blue house,
Olivia, we’re coming for you.

I grabbed my neck in such sympathetic pain, that at a certain point, I was only hurting myself. My door opened slowly.
We’re here.
-Olivia