I used to live in the Lower Queen Anne region of Seattle, just a few blocks from the Space Needle, which has a little park around it- lawns, a fountain, sculptures, a theatre and museums- a little park which is remarkably safe after nightfall. There is also, in the same complex that has all these great museums and verdant lawns, a sad little failing fair, which is deserted enough in the daytime.
It was a great hangout for me and my friends after dark. We used to climb to the top of the roller coaster, smoke a little pot, and talk about the sort of trouble we could get in if we actually had the nerve, which we never did.
It was nice. We were so high up, we could see all the city lights glittering like deep-sea fish, and there was a lovely feeling of wrongdoing coupled with the almost certain fact that nobody cared we were there.
One day we decided to do shrooms instead. It was a good idea at first. The pretty lights and cool, crisp air became a religious experience. Then, all of a sudden, SNAP- something changed. We all felt it. The air wasn’t cool or crisp anymore. It was musty and humid and had a horrible, somehow familiar smell. The lights started to move about in a very unusual manner, sort of lurching and bobbing and above all, approaching. We didn’t see anything actually come into the little patch of fair that we were looking down on, but the lights around it were far, far too close together.
Obviously, we started to freak out. Me and AnneMarie and Brian perched up on that coaster ledge like our lives depended on it, but Eric broke off running. He made his way down the coaster with the grace of an ape, and lunged over the fence, and rushed off into the middle of the sane and healthy-looking concrete. There was a huge chirring sound, which was distinctly insect-like and seemed to come from no direct source, but rather from every molecule of the atmosphere that surrounded us.
Then- SNAP. The city was back to its normal, peaceful self, and the three of us were still up the coaster, beginning to shiver a little in the drizzle.
We never saw Eric again. I moved to the country soon afterwards. You can visit that roller coaster in Seattle, but somehow I suspect the same thing could happen in any city. Anyone in a densely populated area with a lot of lights could experience just such a SNAP. I know they like population centres. I don’t hear the chirring out here in the country.
Look behind you. What do you see?
Invariably, there will be a wall somewhere in your view. Now stare deeply into the space on the wall that lines up best with your eyes. Nothing will happen, but make sure you are clear on where this particular spot is.
That spot contains all the negativity in your mind. Whenever you are on your computer, reading scary stories or whatever you do, sometimes you will get spooked.
What do you do when this happens? You check behind you, that’s what you do. As you read this now, a feeling of dread will come over you.
Check the spot.
Nothing again, huh?
That’s because right now, all the evil is locked safely in your mind. Some people, upon learning of this “negative spot” resolve to remove the spot in an attempt to remove the negative energy. This is a grave mistake.
You must never let harm come to this spot. If you do, you will have released the energy. Now when you sit at your computer at night, you will feel chills even in the summer time. The feeling of dread that only presented itself when you were genuinely scared will now hang in the air constantly. Within a week you and your loved ones will have a string of bad luck.
Within a month your computer will begin to act erratic and eventually break down. On the anniversary of the spot’s destruction, you will dream of your most horrible fears. The dream will seem to go on forever, and when you wake up you will notice your vision has darkened. Every year on the same day, the dream will repeat itself, and your vision will grow darker and darker.-----------------------------------
It’s late. You shouldn’t be up like this, you know.
It’s not healthy, surrounding yourself in utter darkness, with nothing but a dull monitor to illuminate your surroundings, utterly defenceless. Your internal conscious could already be laughing at me. You could be thinking to yourself that you are entirely aware of where this is going. Well, it’s your funeral.
I’m here to warn you. In precisely four minutes and thirteen seconds, something will catch the corner of your eye. You’ll turn your head sharply, attempting to focus your vision. Your cat will slink past, wryly waving its tail. Your relief will overcome you, as you gently welcome your feline companion into your lap. In exhaustion, the poor animal will collapse, a purr of contentment filling the air.
As you continue perusing the internet, you will notice something strange about your pet. You look down, to notice a note has been tucked into its collar. It’s blank. You question this, but return to the internet. Your cat shivers, stretches, and jumps from your lap, scurrying off. The note, which you’ve conveniently placed next to your computer, begins to bleed with dark ink. You open the crumpled paper, holding it to the light of the monitor. It’s then that an illustration of an eye will appear.
It’s then you realize that you don’t own a cat.
Now, this is retribution. If you have any hope of saving yourself, find a scrap of paper. Draw the eye.
Turn off your monitor. Surround yourself by darkness. Don’t you dare close your eyes. Blink, and this will all be for naught. You will be dead before you even felt your eyes close.
Kneel. Fold the illustration, and place it within arm’s reach of you. By now, you should feel it on you. The eye will be watching. It will choke your breath. You must try. Utter the following: “I can see you.”
Drop the illustration, and return to your computer.
I’m sorry to say, the watchful eye will never cease. You will always feel it. It’s watching you now.
Don’t Open Your Eyes
On the last day of every month, close the blinds or curtains before you sleep. If in the middle of the night, you hear a tapping noise at your window, don’t open your eyes.
If you’re one of the unlucky ones, you’ll hear that pebble sound at your window. It’s not a friend; just keep your eyes shut. The sound will get louder, the tapping will get faster and faster. Don’t let your curiosity get the better of you; don’t move. It’ll lose its patience, it’ll start thumping the window. Your window will shake and shudder and the noises will only get louder. It will furiously pound the window and shake the panes; don’t worry, the window won’t break but for goodness’ sake, DON’T OPEN YOUR EYES. No matter how scared you are, no matter how badly you want to scream, pretend like you don’t hear, pretend you’re still asleep.
After a while, the noises will stop. Don’t fall for it, keep your eyes shut. Try to sleep if you can. Don’t get up, don’t open your eyes, until the sun comes up.
The Deepest Fear
You’ve been dating your girlfriend almost two years now. You often stay late over the summer and on weekends and arrive home long after the rest of your family go to sleep.
Every night you drive the deserted rural roads back home from a pleasant evening at her house you become overwhelmed by fears that you will arrive home to find your family dead in their beds. Each night you peek into your sister’s room and see she’s fine and hear the reassuring rumble of your father’s snore as you pass your parents door.
You chuckle at your silly worries and drift off to sleep. Finally one morning you decide to tell your mother about your late night fears amidst some jovial conversation for a nice laugh. As you tell her a concerned look comes over her face. She sweeps the hair away from her face as she says, “Oh honey, you know we were all shot almost two years ago.”
In The Shower
Have you ever been taking a shower while alone in the house and felt like something was moving around behind the curtain? Or watching you? Did you look up? Did you catch the very vaguest hint of eyebrows or a tuft of matted, greasy hair above the curtain rod? That’s not a good idea. It doesn’t really like it if you see it. It likes it the most when you’ve got shampoo on your hair and your eyes are shut tight so your eyes don’t sting. Or even better, when there’s soap and bubbles all over your soft, pink face. It likes that the best, because your eyes are clenched so tight, and even if you did want to open them, like, if you heard a soft scratching against the plastic shower curtain, or a rasping of claws on bathroom tile, or the gentle splatter of drool or cum or… god knows what… well, you wouldn’t open your eyes because it’d burn. Right? Right. Don’t open your eyes. Because if you ever see its face, catch its eyes… Well. It’ll notice.