I should’ve gone back to sleep the moment I woke up, but I didn’t.
About two weeks ago, at three in the morning, I awoke to the sound of shuffling in the corner of my room, It was the kind of sound that would lead you to believe that there was a small animal, a rodent of some sort, scuffling along the walls or through them. I sat up and squinted into the darkness, but saw nothing. I was about to lie back down when I heard a thud. I bolted out of my bed and flicked on the light. There was no small animal, or any sign of there ever being one. What I saw, however, sent chills down my spine. On the bottom corner of the wall, next to the floor, was a dark grey handprint, fingers outstretched. I froze, looking around my room cautiously. Nothing. There was nothing anywhere that I could see. After mustering up the courage I searched the room, still finding nothing. I eventually became tired again and fell back asleep, this time with the lights on.
The next morning I awoke feeling frigid. The handprint was still there, but it looked darker. Not a darker grey, but a decayed color. Brown, like rust. I stared at it for a short while, then decided it would be best to go to work. Throughout my day, I could only think about the handprint and of the strange noise that woke me. I lived alone, and there was nothing I could do, no one I could talk to. I would sound crazy, wouldn’t I?
After work, I was too tired to think, and decided to call it a night early. I turned the lights out and immediately fell asleep.
I awoke to the same scuffling sound from the night before, but this time, I immediately turned the light on. On top of the handprint, there were several more, each one darker in color. I didn’t sleep that night. I stared helplessly at the handprints until dawn. I didn’t go to work.
That night, I again went to sleep with the light off, but this time, I awoke to no sound. What pulled me out of my sleep was the strange feeling of being watched. I instinctively looked towards the corner, and immediately wished I hadn’t. Standing there, shrouded in dark, tattered clothes, was a tall woman. Terrified and alone, I hid my face in my pillows and curled into a tight ball, waiting for death. It didn’t come. In fact, she stood there all night. When morning came, and the strange feeling was gone, I looked again. She was also gone. I couldn’t sleep in this room anymore. I couldn’t be here anymore. I had to leave.
I checked into a small and cheap motel about a half mile away. I would be safe here for the night, I decided. I would be okay. Feeling good, I fell asleep. Again, I awoke to a scuffling sound, but this time, it came from under the bed. Frightened, I flipped on the lamp, looked up, and screamed. Above me were thousands upon thousands of handprints across the ceiling, each one a deep blood red. I hid my face again, and felt the presence of HER. I was so scared I could’t move. I knew that she was watching me. I knew that she was there. I again waited until morning.
After that night, I gave up. I felt apathetic, awaiting death with every step, every night that I closed my eyes. I moved back into my house, seeing as it didn’t matter where I slept. I spent every day in a trance, dreading sleep, but still sleeping. The handprints on the wall disappeared, but in their place, little messages appeared. Now, thousands of messages are written on my walls, my ceiling, and my personal belongings, all in red. “She’s watching you.” “Don’t look her in the eyes.” “She can’t get you if you don’t look.” Obviously they weren’t written by HER, but I didn’t care to find out where they came from. I ignored them, although I shouldn’t have.
Last night I lied in bed, staring at the messages on the wall to my right. I couldn’t sleep. I read the messages over and over, trying to lull myself into a deep slumber. Then, three horrific things happened simultaneously.
One. I felt HER presence.
Two. I felt her cold breath against the back of my neck, sending a chill down my spine as my hair stood on end.
Three.
As I lied there, frigid and terrified, I felt movement. SHE was on the bed with me. A hoarse voice pierced the silent darkness, chilling my skin and catching my breath. It doesn’t matter what she said, but know that I looked. I looked and now I have nothing left to give but advice. I don’t care what you hear. It doesn’t matter what you see. She’s always there, always watching, and she know’s that you’re reading this.
Don’t look behind you.
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Credits to: waycoolcat
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