User:OneHotDanish

Grant awoke with a start, though it was not immediately clear why. The clock read 1:13. the night was relatively still for October, but he could feel that something was.... off. He could feel eyes on him. "probably just some sort of demon or malevolent spirit," he chuckled to himself. But despite his feeble attempt at humor, he could still feel it, and it unnerved him.

He got out of his bed and walked towards his window, and peered out into the darkness. Nothing at first but black. He was looking for at least a full minute before his eyes were drawn to a particular spot. And when his gaze fell upon the creature, his heart stopped.

Or at least he felt like his heart had stopped, and the rest of the world with it. in reality, he was just holding his breath from fear, and for good reason. what he had seen was truly terrible. a huge, semi-humanoid shape, blacker than the darkest darkness, 12 feet tall and shadowy tentacles for limbs. and then he saw its eyes. They were blood red, and amorphous, constantly changing shape and size.

"Holy Fuck."

Grant barely had time to shit himself before the thing disappeared.

he stood there for a moment, smelling his creation, before going to the bathroom to clean himself up. After he had finished he returned to the window, slightly bolder this time due to the timid sunlight peeking over the horizon. Obviously the creature was gone, but there was no doubt that it had been there before. he could tell exactly where it had been standing, because every bit of vegetation within 5 feet of it had died and become rotten. And hanging above the same spot, was a noose, swinging ominously in a non-existent breeze.

This bothered Grant quite a bit, so he decided to deal with it the only way he could think of. He went into his living room, sat down carefully in his favorite recliner. it creaked and moaned, i mean it was basically fucking ancient. but boy was it some other kind of comfortable. The perfect chair to sit back and smoke a joint, or 7.

So he grabbed his stash and began rolling myriad joints and blunts, intending to smoke himself into oblivion and meditate on the recent events that were troubling him. But by the time he started his 3rd number of OG Kush, he got that same feeling from the night before, of cold foreboding and dread, though it was fleeting this time. It was like the bastard had run through the room just to fuck with him, hoping Grant would follow the cold breeze that was left in its wake.

For his part, Grant decided to tempt fate. The breeze seemed to be pulling him towards the back door, which was directly below his bedroom window and had a clear view of the forest and edge of the graveyard. He followed it through the door and into the massive field that was his back yard. After thinking about it, grant decided that it made perfect sense for the ghoul to be leading him into the field. it was said that more than one civil was battle had taken place in the field, and before that it had been the scene of a massacre. Over 500 Native Americans had been murdered while the rest were forced out of their homeland. so naturally people had long since decided that the place must be haunted.

Grant had a pretty good idea where he was being led. He was moving straight towards the place where everything had died. he hadn't been able to tell the night before, but the ghoul had been standing right in front of a gathering of unmarked graves. Not many people knew about the lost graveyard, because those who did, seldom would speak of it. It was said that Henry Bickle, a confederate scout turned farmer, was the last owner of the property before the government seized the parcel of land which held the graveyard. Mr. Bickle was always a strange man, not much given to small talk or socializing in any form, and thus he was not very popular among the community. those who keep to themselves tend to become subject to rumors and gossip, and Ol' Henry was no exception. People would occasionally see him walking towards the old graveyard at dusk/twilight. But since they didn't have the nerve to ask him what he was doing, they simply started speculating.

People said all manner of things about old Henry. on Monday they said he was just taking a walk for some peace, but by the end of the week it had turned into him being a cannibal/necrophiliac who had hit the jackpot by discovering the graveyard. But all poor Henry ever did was mind his own and grow his hemp, while they just kept talking and talking, saying nothing at all. Maybe they thought he never heard what they said, or that he just didn't care. But he did hear, and he did care. They hurt his feelings. but poor Henry still just kept to himself.

Then one day, when most people had gotten bored with Henry Bickle and forgotten about him, he shocked the town by taking a wife for himself. Her name was Mary Jane. She was a recent widow, with 2 children from a long, sad marriage to a man she never loved. of course, she didn't love henry either, but she didn't have much choice, she had to think of her children, and they seemed to take to Henry pretty quickly. So that was that, Henry had found love.

Unfortunately, the news of the marriage had sparked renewed interest in Henry, and people started to talk like they do sometimes. at first they just picked at Henry, like before, but eventually they began to talk about his wife, and his new children. one such rumor seemed to stick though, Mary Jane had been seen walking with the local rake, and this caused the townfolk to assert wholeheartedly that Jane had been having an affair with him. Word of this got back to Henry, and it bothered him quite a bit. it bothered him so much, in fact, that he wasn't able to stop himself from getting his biggest axe out of his barn, and using it to brain his pretty wife and her two children. Henry stayed in the house for 3 days without eating or sleeping, before shooting himself. he used a .22 caliber pistol. the first bullet didn't take, so poor Henry had to shoot himself two more times before he could finally die.

{He eventually reached a point where he could no longer articulate what happened in his head, with the sounds his mouth could make. shortly thereafter, he simply quit speaking altogether.}

Ever since those events, most people wouldn't even venture onto the bickles' property, it stayed vacant until it was bought by a pleasant couple from Vermont. the entire town of Chagrin held its breath as the pleasant couple from Vermont moved their things in and got themselves situated. the husband had a good job in the city, and the wife stayed at home, owing to her delicate nature. the pleasant couple from Vermont did not live in the bickle house very long.

the property changed hands a few times before Grant got there. you see, Grant came from a wealthy family, who wanted nothing but the best for him. so when he decided that his latest passion was to live as a secluded artist, they bought the land so that he could make his art without dealing with the hassles and bullshit that comprise life for normal, functioning adults. He was too caught up in getting what he wanted to notice anything strange about the situation, like the fact that no animals ever came near the place, even birds wouldn't fly over. except for crows. crows and buzzards.

Grant stood at the edge of the forest, staring at the old, rotted noose hanging high above his head. As he stood there, he began thinking about how fun it would be to climb the hanging tree and swing from the rope. He envisioned himself climbing the tree, he went to the noose. he grabbed the noose, began to wrap it around his throat. Smiling all the time. He was on the verge of letting himself slip off the low branch, when he came to his senses and tried to untie himself. But he was just a little too late. He slipped, he fell, and he hung there.

Grant woke up in a cold sweat, soaked through. The clock said 1:13. He immediately got up and went to his window, not knowing what he might see, or if he even wanted to see it. But Grant could feel it in his gut, he had to look. And sure enough, the ghoul was back, standing in the same spot and appearing to cackle at the look of fear on Grants face. He could tell that the beast was feeding off of his fear, and saw the area of dead things around it had grown larger. The ghoul continued to mock Grant for a few more moments, but was cut off when Grant suddenly lost consciousness and fell to the floor.

Grant awoke after sunset, in a panic, with dusk rapidly approaching. He quickly got up and dressed himself to fight the cold, before hauling ass out the back door and making a beeline for the lost graveyard. He had a huge knot in his throat the whole way across the field, but for some reason could not bring himself to turn around or even stop walking. He just kept on walking to his demise, terrified beyond comprehension, while the ghoul just watched and laughed, minding his own business but all the while remembering that people fear most that which they do not understand. and they do not understand us. they fear us because we are beyond their comprehension, even though they created us while they slept, sending us forward from nightmares which are the culmination of their own evil and degenerate thoughts.