Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-5227285-20150117004909

When I had gotten home, I noticed something strange; there was dirt on the welcome mat. Dirt before I had rubbed my shoes on it, dirt that I had not tracked onto it, dirt that could not have ended up there, on the rough little rug. I live alone, not far from many people, but far enough to where it’s a chore to visit me, so I had no friends with keys to my house, no one just “dropped by to say hi”. I sat outside, not wanting to go into my house. I had long had the sneaking suspicion that I was not alone in my house, that there was someone living just out of reach. I could never see them, but I’m sure, they, or he, or she, knew and saw me. Occasionally I’d find that some food was missing, or that I had less toilet paper left, or small items would be somewhere other than where I put them. At first I thought I was just being clumsy, misplacing items, maybe eating more than I thought, using more toilet paper, etc. Recently I had begun to count the Oreos left before I went to bed, I marked off places on the toilet paper as well. It was only about a day or so ago that I got results. I had woken up, and the day before counted 24 Oreos, now there was only 19, same with the toilet paper. But I must ask, why me? Why my house? My friends called me paranoid, silly, loony, all kinds of names. I won’t go in there. I take out my phone to call my boyfriend, he doesn’t answer, I call again and he still doesn’t. He thinks I’m nuts to. What if this is all some plot by my friends just to fuck with me? I’d love that; I’d laugh so hard that I’d cry tears of joy if that’s true. I absent mindedly glanced up at the window which looked into my attic, in time to see a face looking out onto the driveway, which just as soon dashed out of view. I was scared, it was all true, there were people, or persons, in my house. I hope my boyfriend gets here soon, and then I can live with him, while my house is condemned and destroyed. I sent an email to my psychologist, and then gave her a call, I needed the help, needed to hear a voice, anything to confirm anything at all, to comfort me, and this might’ve been a stress induced hallucination. I looked at my house, and I saw a little girl peering out of the window down at me, my psychologist wouldn’t pick up. A little girl was in that house, with what could be monsters and rapists, a little girl, she looked familiar to me. I had to go in, and so I did. I passed right through the door, I was scared at this point, nothing made sense, but I had to get that child out. I opened the door from the garage to the house. A man is sitting at a table, doing his taxes; he’s old, really old. He seems nice, I think I’d like him a lot, but has been here the whole time? He’s not a monster; he’s an old man... Have I been renting my house out? It’d explain groceries I didn’t buy. I put my hand on his shoulder, the man shivers but he doesn’t turn around. I try to call his name; the man looks up, and slowly turns his head side to side. I tell him to get out of my house, I throw the paperwork off of the table, and the man backs up, nearly falling out of his chair. He’s terrified of something. I see something out of the corner of my eye, it’s weird, a bleached face with black beady eyes, the face was stretched and contorted, yet when I glanced at it, it wasn't there. I see a picture of me and my boyfriend at a wedding; our wedding. We aren't married, why is this picture here. I see another, and in it, I am pregnant, where are these from, who are these people. I panic, and knock the frames off the wall, an old man walked by in time to see the frames all hit the ground and shatter. I see a picture of me as a child, with a young lady holding me, maybe my mom I don’t remember, who are all these people, more glass falls to the ground and shatters to pieces. I’m scared and confused. I see another face, and when I look its gone, am I going insane, am I already insane, I’m just scared. I see another picture; me and a little girl, that same little girl, only a little younger, same black hair, she has some of my face, cute. My boyfriend is there as well, he’s lifting some boxes into our new house, this house. I don’t understand, why do these forgeries exist, I don’t remember this, is this really me? I flee up the stairs to my bed room. It feels like no one has been here in years, pictures, I don’t remember any of this, where is the large Pulp Fiction poster? Where is the teddy bear that said “I <3 Molest” on its stomach, that I got for my 19th birthday? Why is all this… shit in here? These pictures, me and my boyfriend, I remember only a few, one at the carnival, and two others, but all of these are fake. Dust coats the top of the dresser, I don’t understand. I got into the restroom, to splash water on my face, and relieve myself. I turn the water on hot, and it immediately fogs up the mirror, I splash it on my face, and turn it off. I look up into the foggy mirror, but see nothing, a face; a gross distorted image appears behind me, in the mirror. I break the mirror, I punch it, and it splinters, the cracks spider webbing outward, large shards fall, I am not bleeding. No cut, no bruise, no red mark on my hand to speak of. I throw all the pictures, everything off of the dresser, none of this is me, where are my movie posters, the fucking action figures my friends gave me over the years, my comics, all of it gone replaced with fakes. I need my medicine, I can’t think straight, it feels like my head is swimming, a rat trying to claw its way out of my skull is my brain. The faces appear more frequently, I leave the room, and go down the stairs to the basement. Nothing is down here, I reach for the light chord, I was never tall enough he was always there to help me reach things. After all he helped me move into my new house, and is my husband. What am I talking about, none of this is true. The light turns on, and he is standing there. He extends a hand, I take it. And he leads me out the front door, I say good bye to my parents, to my child, with sorrow, but I can take solace in him, and her, my little girl. I hope I am remembered wel—What am I talking about?! I take my hand back and try to run off, who are these people, what are these memories, I need help, I want help. These are all fakes, no one is real, it’s those monsters, I run from them, he chases after me. I need freedom, I need it, freedom, I see the opening of the gate, the light shining through. I run into it, and I am free. Free to roam the Earth, and see the land, but I won’t forget him, he pushed me to get here, and her, my daughter. I love them all, and all they’ve done for me. 