My Ex Is Haunting Me

Every night, I fear more and more for my life, and I think my ex-girlfriend is responsible. It wasn’t my fault that I was forced to kick her out of my life for doing her weird, fucked up Occulty Wicca shit in my house when I told her it creep me out. She screamed as I slam the wooden door in her face that she would curse me for rejecting her peaceful practices, that she would summon an evil spirit that would haunt me from this live to the next. I shot a “Go to Hell!” at her, and she angrily stomped in the dirt and left my home, which was the last I saw of her.

That night, I frantically woke up from hearing a strange rattle-like noise from outside. I glanced out my second story window in my bedroom to the backyard, the rattling instantly stopped as I spotted a pair of dull, hazy round red eyes staring up at me from the wooden fence at the edge of my yard. There was no body or form attached to these eyes. They just stared at me, never moving, showing no clear expression or emotion.

At first I thought they were just my tired eyes and mind mistaking a pair of car lights off in the distance, but as my senses and mind sharpened, they appeared to be the eyes of some enigmatic spiritual force, whose intentions were as unclear as its presence outside my house.

Terrified, I went back to bed, and the rattling continued all night. With very little sleep, I furiously tried to contact my ex, wanting to know what the fuck she did outside my window. I never believed in any of that demonic magic crap she did, but I knew she was an avid special effects artist at a local production company who could pull off weird light shit like what I saw last night. Plus, as one of my friends told me, she could get way too overly attached to people, and she rarely took rejection well.

I tried her cell-phone, social media, email, even her work number. Nothing. I tried to get a hold of her all day, my rage and wrath slowly turning into despair and desperation with the more voice mail I left and question mark single character messages I sent out.

I went to bed, an equal amount of hatred and sorrow bloating up in my chest. I cursed that stupid bitch and all the dumb shit she put me through. Making me stay home with her instead of going to the game because she thought combat sports to violent instead renting some dumbass DVD’s about pale, teenage werewolves or some shit like that. All those noisy beads and jewelry she wore that would annoyingly clink and clank when she moved around only slightly, which got on my nerves rather quickly. The time she said she would report me to the police for smoking my bong in my own damn home. Always trying to control every little fucking thing I did in her presence. Can’t believe I ever thought she was hot.

As my mind went back to her trying to summon some shit the day before. The rattling started again. I tried to ignore it, but it kept persisting, for me to investigate, drawing me towards the window. I found myself standing and facing the glass sheet that separated those red eyes and me.

They were closer. Five feet off the fence, halfway to the old oak tree, just there, staring at me. We held eye contact for an amount of time I can’t recall. As I slowly backed away from its gazed, I looked up through the reflective surface to see the moon was full, despite knowing from the weather channel that it would have still be waxing now.

My night and days have basically followed that pattern for the last few weeks. Try to contact my ex, no answer. Wake up to rattling; see red eyes, a few feet closer. It was now well past the tree and only a few yards from the edge of my house, still dully staring at me. And that moon. Always full, despite all the weather media saying otherwise.

I’ve thought about leaving the house and staying somewhere else, but I know I can’t escape this. If it can change the moon to full each night, it certainly has the power to follow me wherever I go, and that’s what my ex wants to see me do; give into my fears and surrender. Surrender my home and property to her, and hence surrounding my life to her.

No. I’ll take my stand here and here alone, even if my courage is slowly melting away like an ice cube in the hot sun.

It’s out there in my yard. That little bit of evil, my own personal bit of fucking hell that my ex has left behind just for me. I dare not confront it out there, even if it’s just her with some lighting rig or something out there. It’s driving me insane, that I know for sure. As much as I try to get her out of my mind, out of my life, she’s still there. Buried in the layers of my psyche.

Fuck her. I’m still here. I’m not giving up. Not to her. Not to any lights. Not to any demon, or spirit, or eyes, or rattling, or anything. Soon they’ll been at my window, staring me eye to eye, burning me with their crimson dread and presence. I sleep with a gun now. Once it’s there, in my face, I’ll shoot. It’ll be gone. She’ll be gone. My suffering at her hands will be gone.

It’ll be dead, buried, hidden away in the dirt beneath the oak tree.

Right beside her.