Series by: donutboy456781
Unsurprisingly, things since my last update have been insanely hectic. I truly haven’t been able to find the time to write this next post for you all until right now, so I am sorry for all the worry I caused anyone with the abrupt ending of my previous post.
My wife and I, luckily, are once again okay. We’re still very shaken up by every little terrifying thing that has happened in the last two days, but thankfully we will be fine. Our bond has only strengthened during all of this, so that is a massive positive in a boatload of negatives. Before I get into the finer details about last night, I want to address something a lot of you have been saying the past two days: it was a bad move for me to withhold the truth from Mary. I thought I was doing the right thing in the moment, but lying to her was a bad idea. I could have gotten her killed, and that makes me feel awful. I came clean with her earlier today, and she handled it about as well as I could have expected. My face is still red where she slapped me, but she accepted my apology. I’m not perfect, but I’m glad that my most recent blunder didn’t cause any irrevocable harm.
Anyways, here’s everything I know about what happened last night. When I heard the first bangs on the front door, I could tell almost immediately that the door had no chance of keeping out whoever or whatever was trying to get in. I posted the update, grabbed the shotgun, and took my terrified wife to the closet. It was the safest option really: there’s only one entrance in the surprisingly spacious closet, and we were able to block the door with our wooden shoe rack. I kept the shotgun in hand until we emerged from our makeshift panic room almost a half-hour later.
Our house is pretty compact and the closet we hid in is right above the entryway to the house, so we were still able to hear what was happening downstairs pretty clearly. We heard the door splinter, and then slam heavily to the floor in a heap. We then heard the heavy pounds of feet on our wood floor as whatever was downstairs did who knows what in the entryway. The most disturbing thing we heard, though, was its “voice.” Well, it’s complicated. It didn’t really speak. It just loudly growled and groaned guttural gasps as it… I don’t know, scurried around in our entryway. Mary cuddled close to me, whimpering, and barely managed to get a petrified whisper out to me.
“Is… he saying… words?”
I hadn’t been focused on whether it was saying anything before then, so I tried to discern any words that I could understand and, sure enough, I could sort of distinguish what sounded like gibberish between the seemingly pained moans coming from downstairs. It was something like… “Guuk. Bih peviriel va. Heee tesaret.” It repeated these same sounds for a few minutes, making rough and sporadic stops in between them and also occasionally stopping to make pained wheezing sounds. It sounded like a man who had his vocal chords irrevocably damaged was trying to chant something. It was a terrible sound, like a thousand nails on chalkboards. Then after moments of listening to this disturbingly melodic gibberish, our home fell silent again.
Mary and I looked at each other… I’m almost positive we both were thinking the same thing at that moment, that we wouldn’t leave the closet until we were 100% sure that whatever was downstairs was gone, no matter how quiet it got. And sure enough, after five minutes or so, we heard a loud shriek and the now familiar pounding of heavy footsteps on our wooden floor as it sprinted deeper into our house. My heart skipped about ten beats as we heard it pounding on a door inside the house. We would have heard him come up the steps if it was the door to our bedroom, so we both breathed a sigh of relief as we heard him forcing his way into our basement.
Everything else happened almost too quickly to process. We heard the door to the basement break with a similar crackle as the front door, followed by a few thuds in immediate succession, followed by the bangs of footsteps made as it charged down into our basement. We heard another relatively distant but still blood-curdling shriek come from the creature, and then silence again. It wasn’t much longer before we heard a shout coming from downstairs. “Police! Come out with your hands up!”
The police arrived on the scene in full force probably twenty minutes after receiving my call. I had told the operator I was fortifying myself in my bedroom and where the bedroom was, so I wasn’t too surprised to hear knocking on the door minutes after they had entered the house. I was a little nervous to leave the safety of the closet, as my imagination had me worried that whatever had broken into my house was disguising itself as a police officer to lower my guard. But when the voice on the other side of the door addressed me by name, I realized that it was Sergeant James speaking with me. If you don’t remember, he was one of the officers who came to my house when I first phoned the police about the trespasser. He escorted Mary and I out of the house while the rest of the police officers marched down into the basement. There were even more officers with their guns at the ready outside. I finally felt safe for the first time all night. Sergeant James took us to an ambulance parked at the end of our driveway, where paramedics awaited us to make sure we were ok. After we were cleared medically, we hopped in Sergeant James’s patrol car and he took us to the station for questioning.
I should backtrack a little bit. Even though Sergeant James clearly wanted us to get out of the house as quickly as possible, I was able to observe the chaos that lay on the floor just inside my front doorway. There were the expected but disturbing sights, such as the wrecked front door lying on the floor and the large scratch marks on the doorframe.
But there was one unexpected piece of evidence that disturbs me on a whole different level. The police have said nothing about it still, no matter how much I’ve asked. Starting on the front porch, splashed upon the splintered piece of door that lay upon the floor, and streaking all across the floor in a jagged line leading to the basement door was a dark crimson substance. Obviously, my first guess would be blood, but since this whole situation is extremely bizarre… I can’t really be sure. If anyone has any ideas on what this is, or why the creature would just be bleeding all the over the place, please let me know. I don’t know if the police are withholding information from me or simply do not know the truth themselves, but I can’t stop thinking about it.
Once we got to the police station, Mary and I were given time to relax as best as we could. We hugged each other and cried, and that’s pretty much all we’ve been able to do since leaving the house. It’s hard to relax during times like these. They began questioning us just a little before 7 AM. Most of the questioning was uneventful, or pertained to things I already mentioned in one of these three posts so I won’t bore you all with too many details. However, one of the detectives stated that whatever I had discovered in my yard two nights ago was most likely not human. He based this on an examination of the marks on my front door frame, basement door, and some of my walls. The examination revealed that they were simply too deep and too wide to be caused by normal human fingernails. They were caused by something more durable than fingernails… maybe a large knife… or maybe large claws. And the forensics suggests that the marks are so uniform in length and distance between each other… that they’re too precise to be caused by separate blows.
Unsurprisingly, they told us that we won’t be able to stay in our house for a significant amount of time, which I am perfectly fine with. Mary was able to get us a room in a cheap hotel for now, and we will most likely make the trip to Mary’s sister’s to stay with her until we figure out what to do.
I’m writing this now from our hotel room. My laptop was kept as evidence and I gave the police permission to check the surveillance cameras on it, so I’m using my phone to write this. I don’t know what happened in my small quiet neighborhood after I left my house early this morning. The police are being secretive about everything, but I don’t really care at this point. I’m just glad that this whole situation finally seems to be under control. I’m going to catch up on the two days worth of sleep that I mostly lost out on. Have a nice night everyone.
UPDATE: The ringing of my phone woke me up a half hour ago. I answered. On the other line was Detective Laird, one of the detectives involved with combing the crime scene. I didn’t know what to expect, since I’d already told the police everything I knew. He asked me how many exits there were to my house, to which I replied three. There’s the front door, the back door, and the storm door leading out of my basement. I said obviously the windows could be used as an exit as well, but he confirmed that none had been open or broken upon investigating the house.
There was a long pause, and then I heard Detective Laird swallow air nervously. Then he explained:
“Well, your house is currently surrounded by police officers, and it has been since the moment we got here. Not a single officer outside has seen the intruder leave your home… Inside the house, even more officers have checked every inch of the house and haven’t found any sign that the intruder is still here.”
I said nothing.
“We’ve checked the security feeds on your laptop as well. We watched and re-watched and re-watched again every second of the recordings… no sign of the intruder leaving. We don’t know where he went.”
I don’t know what to do anymore.
Comments