Insanity

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I used to see things at night. When I was lying beside my wife at night, awake, unable to sleep, I heard things from different places around the house. I got up most every night and wandered around our enormous mansion of a home, looking for the source of the sounds.
A while ago, I heard what sounded like whimpers and high-pitched shrieks. I got up and went down the stairs in search for the source of the noises. At the foot of the stairs, I stopped when I saw a black figure silhouetted against the light from the open door. It looked like the emaciated, bald, naked figure of a stooped man, but the figure was so black I could make out nothing of its features. When I stopped, the figure turned, and I saw gleaming red eyes in a feral face before the figure disappeared and the door was closed, as if nothing had ever been there.

This had been happening for several months now, these night visitors, since about the time of mine and my wife’s one-year anniversary. I hadn’t told anyone about it... I was afraid they’d think I was crazy. I’m not crazy, though. I’m perfectly sane. I just didn’t know why I kept seeing these things at night. Some weeks, it was bad, and some weeks, I wouldn’t see them at all. My wife hadn’t noticed my nocturnal roamings. I got up and moved about as silently as a shadow, and was back in bed within minutes.

I’d been wanting to confront these demons I see, but they were afraid. They never stayed longer than for me to get a look at them. I wondered what they wanted; I wonder why they came. I wanted them to tell me why they came!

Several nights later, I heard crying from the guest bedroom I walked down the hall and opened the door. I saw a small, black haired girl standing in the corner, head bowed, sobbing quietly. I knew it wasn’t just a girl, and felt no pity.

“What do you want?” I asked. The figure stopped her crying and straightened her posture. She turned quickly, looking at me with completely black eyes in a ghastly pale face. She looked like she was taken out of a black-and-white movie. She smiled, revealing sharp black teeth that were covered in blood. I took a step toward the demon, and she disappeared.

I wasn’t particularly disturbed by the encounter. These demons wouldn’t hurt me. I just wanted them to to tell me why they were persistently appearing in my house.

I went back to bed and lied there, staring at the ceiling for close to an hour before I finally found sleep.

After that, the nocturnal visitations increased in frequency. It was almost every night that I would leave my bed and see a demon in some form or another. They were also getting bolder. Each night, the figures would let me get closer and closer to them before they disappeared into thin air. Still, they never spoke to me. They never answered my question of, “Why are you here? What do you want?”

My wife started to notice my nightly absences, and the increasingly deep circles under my eyes. She was concerned, of course, but I simply told her I got restless and had to get a drink of water or go to the restroom every night. She didn’t quite believe me and remained worried, but at least her questions were abated temporarily.

I had a job as an estate agent, and my boss also noticed a change in my behavior. Luckily, the two of us weren’t close enough for him to ask questions about it. I was still doing my job well, so he had nothing to complain about.

Then, one night, a night that I actually did find sleep quickly, I started dreaming. In the dream, I didn’t know that I was dreaming. I had gotten out from work early, and went home. When I pulled up to the driveway, I saw a Porsche parked in the driveway. Curious, I went into the house, quiet as usual, and looked around for my wife and the visitor. Not seeing anyone, I walked silently up the stairs. I looked around, feeling slightly paranoid, I walked slowly to the bedroom door.

I opened the door and saw a sight that made me sick to the stomach. I saw my wife in our bed with a strange man. On top of the nausea, I felt an overwhelming rage take over me...

I woke with a start, fire blazing in my eyes, jerking to a sitting position in our bed. My wife awoke beside me, and, concerned, asked what was wrong. “Nothing, my love. It’s nothing. Just a bad dream,” I assured her, and she fell back to sleep. I stayed upright in our bed, sitting, thinking, stealing glances at my sleeping wife. I knew it was unreasonable to have suspicions based off a dream, but I couldn’t force the image out of my head...

Then, I saw, standing in the corner of our bedroom, a black figure. When the figure stepped forward into the moonlight from our window, I saw that it was wearing a black trench coat. It was a goat, its eyes wild, blood red. “She’s cheating... She’s cheating... She’s che-e-e-eating,” said the demonic figure. Its voice was shaky, captivating, and chilled me to the bone. Then, the figure was gone as suddenly as it had appeared.

That was why these demons had been coming! That was why they had been bothering me for so long! They’d been trying to tell me all along! But no... Could it be? Should I believe them? Why should I? My wife had never given me the slightest reason to believe she would do anything of the sort. “Che-e-e-eating,” the demonic voice echoed in my head... No. I decided I would not believe them. It was a ludicrous idea.

The very next night, I was awakened by the sound of footsteps running up and down the hallway past our bedroom door. I heard the steps patter up the hall, then the other way, and stop right outside our door. The door was pushed open, and a figure popped its head in. It was the same girl I had seen in the guest bedroom some time before. “She’s cheating,” said the demon, closed the door, and pattered down the hall, laughing hysterically.

I looked again at my sleeping wife. I stared at her, as if I could see the answer written in her peacefully sleeping face. No... It couldn’t be.

Two nights later, I awoke to see... A figure of a man, naked and bald, like the pictures you see of holocaust victims, standing at the edge of our bed, looking down at my wife. In the holes where its eyes should have been, there was nothing. It looked at me, and stared. Slowly, it raised its arm, literally skin and bones, and pointed at my wife.

The demon stood there, pointing and staring, for what must have been an hour. I simply lay in bed and stared right back, riveted to the demon’s eyeless gaze. My wife was asleep during the entire ordeal. Finally, I broke his gaze and turned over in bed, trying to fall asleep.

When I woke up the next morning, the figure was gone.

From that encounter, I was convinced. No longer was there any doubt in my mind that my wife was cheating on me. I knew she was... So what was there to do? Justice had to be dealt...

* * *

Three days later, an article appeared in the Chicago Tribune, the headline reading:

Couple Found Murdered in Bed. Husband Suspected





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