Gassed

My family and I have recently been cleaning out our garage, as we're going to prepare to move into a new house soon. We've found lots of cool thing while cleaning it out. I found my old Pokemon cards, my father's antique camera, and a load of old MAD Magazines. However, something that stood out from most of the clutter was a bag for a Gas Mask, issued WWI. Yes, World War One. Surprisingly enough, both the mask and the bag were in very good condition.

The mask looked grim and sad, as a matter of fact. There were scratches on it's eyeglasses, facing inward, making the eyes of the mask look somewhat panicked and blood-stricken. There were a few cobwebs inside it. I cleared them out and (quite foolishly) tried it on. I took it off immediately.

My paternal and materal grandfathers were both involved in WWII. However, the only grandparent I ever knew invloved in WWI was my pateral grandfather. My father kept many things of his father. My paternal grandfather seemed like a very burly man. He was fast, strict, and very smart, according to my father. I looked into him with much respect. My maternal grandfather (the one I'm more familiar with) was serving in WWII involved in the Air Force. However, my father refuses to tell me what my paternal grandfather's purpose in the war, no matter how much I ask him.

The activity started a few weeks ago.

It started out with a shuffling noise. You see, my living room is currently filled with clutter and moving boxes. The couch I was sitting on was facing the television, which faces the rest of the room. I had positioned the couch so that I was closer up to the television, leaving the entire room behind me, as well as out of my view. It was about 1:45 AM, another one of those lonely nights playing Skyrim. I began to doze off in the light the television emitted.

I shot up from my daze when I heard the shuffling noise behind me. I know, I'm overreacting. I have a problem with anxiety and paranoia, as some of you may know. Especially paranoia. The shuffling noise could be described as someone rubbing two small pillow together, mixed with someone rubbing their fists all over a sewed fabric. I comforted myself with the thought that it was my cat or dog. I refused to turn around.

The shufflung sound continued.

I couldn't ignore it. Between the sound of the silent house and the small sound of the Dragonborn's Theme flowing from the television, the shuffling was the loudest thing in the room. My parents were upstairs, asleep, and quite frankly safe from whatever this was.

It stopped, suddenly.

I then proceeded to frantically shoot myself from the couch, through the unusually cold room, and up the stairs, into my room. I barely made it to sleep with every single light on, and my door tightly shut closed.

Two nights after that, I had one of the most admittedly disturbing events reach me.

The room was colder than usual. I woke up to hear the shuffling again. It was louder. It was downstairs. I had a sense of courage surge though me at that moment. I got up from my bed. I didn't want to, but I did. My body was going against my will, but I still felt in control of it's groggy movement.

I walked closer to my flight of stairs, leading down to the living room, where the mask sat. I could observe that the sound was getting more violent as I glided down the stairs.

The sight that I saw consisted of a shadowy figue wearing the mask staring at me. It's head looked bigger than it's body. The scratched eyes of the mask were hyptonic in their appearance.

I remember nothing after that. I woke up on my kitchen floor.

A few nights later, after I had calmed down from the event, something that I'm still shivering about happened.

I often like to sleep with my door open a small crack. I don't know why, I just do. I woke up at about 2:50 AM that morning, as I usually do. Insomnia is a problem with me. In the night, if I have a successful sleep, I'll wake up by about 3:00 AM or so. The room was darker than it usually was. I noticed the small nightlight that I kept by my bedside (Yes, I keep a nightlight. Stop laughing at me.) had shattered. The exterior of it now was a series of shards on the wooden floor next to my bed. I was sleeping on my side, as usual.

I sat up on my back and looked throughout my room.

I was sitting in my bed. I watched as the opposing side of my house collapsed to the ground. I looked out my window to see blazing houses and cars flooding the streets. The smoke rising from the town I overlooked from my bedroom window mesmerized me in fear. I could have sworn I could feel the heat of what I saw. The apparition of bomber jets were there too, letting the faint glow of the fire from the town I lived in wrapped around their metal bodies.

The figue appeared in my doorway. The distant, almost muffled sound of exploding capsuled slamming against the skeletal remains of the once thriving town. Without movement of it's arms or legs, it glided toward me. Complete silence.

The figure, at the edge of my bed, leaned over to me. It's eyes now glowing in a yellow light.

"It's been a pleasure meeting you."

I can't describe to you what I felt at that moment. It wasn't fear. It wasn't anything close to fear. As a matter of fact, it was warmth and comfort.

I shot up again in a pool of sweat surrounding me. The house was still intact, the town lay quietly among the night.

The figure didn't return to me after that. All activity stopped.

The gas mask and the bag now lay on a desk in my room. I strangely feel protected with them watching over me.