Ryan Roe

This story is not meant to be extremely scary but I am hoping that by getting this out of my head, whatever or whoever this is will stay out for good.

My freshman year I lived a pretty sleepless existence in a tiny dilapidated dorm room. Let me tell you why. Around October, I was sleeping in my room (thankfully my roommate was gone for the weekend), when I awoke suddenly with chills as if I had been sleeping in an ice bath. There, standing in the corner of the room, beneath my lofted bed, was a man in a white overcoat and black hat, his back facing me with his head bowed. I immediately became frozen in fear, that terrifying feeling where it seems impossible to even blink, my heart running rampant in my chest. The figure started to make a raspy breathing noise. I heard a small child whisper, Ryan Roe near my right ear. The figure began to slowly turn around, revealing he had now face, it was all just a black blur.

I woke up (for real this time), with a jolt, almost falling out of the bed onto the tile floor in the process, every hair on my arms and neck standing on end. Now dear reader, I must point out that this tale is creepy but not terrifying. Let me tell you it get's worse.

Back at my parent's house, a few weeks later with the whole dream all but forgotten, I was listening to some old audio recordings of me as a child for a communications project. I will admit I was a pretty adorable three-year-old at the time. Listening to my cute lisp made the tapes fun to listen to. Please make note that this was not the first time I had listened to these tapes and as usual, after singing a brilliant rendition of "Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer," my parents during the recording to attend to my baby sister, silence filling my headphones as the younger me waited for them to come back.

I normally skip over this awkward, four minute silence, but I was occupied at my laptop and did not bother to fast forward this time. About two and a half minutes in, I heard it. Ryan, Ryan Roe. It was me. I was the child whispering in my dream.

Totally freaked out at this point, I went to my parents for answers who were making supper in the kitchen. My mom gasped and my dad dropped a pot when I said the name.

They explained with nervous glances at one another that when I was around three, I would have night terrors where I'd thrash around, screaming bloody murder at the top of my lungs. In every occurrence, I would suddenly go perfectly still, before siting straight up, whispering: Ryan Roe is trying to take me away, before plummeting back into my pillows, sound asleep as if nothing had happened. When asked about my dream the next morning, I couldn't tell my parents what this Roe figure looked like except that his face seemed to be missing.

They took me to a child physiologist who was stumped. I had no history of abuse and had never heard of that name before. Eventually I outgrew the night terrors, and Ryan Roe became a repressed memory that did not appear again until last year when he returned.

Since that night in October, I have seen Ryan Roe in my dreams several more times. In each instance, the darkness around his face seems to fade, shade by shade. I have not dreamt of him for five months now reader, but I know he will be coming back soon. I am scared for I believe next time I will finally see the person beneath the mask of darkness, and I am scared what I will see reader, I truly am.

Paige Turner