By late October, I had all but dismissed the incident. Neither Jane nor I ever mentioned it. We acted like it never happened. That’s how we wanted it.
I had recently accepted a new management position with a new company and was devoting the majority of my time to learning my new job and getting to know my new team.
Jane and I remained good friends. She had been staying at my place some nights throughout the fall (before and after the first incident).
She was with me the night the monster came back.
I had gone to bed early that evening due to having to be at work at 6am. It was unseasonably warm so I had left my bedroom window halfway open. I fell asleep peacefully to the dull hum of my fan.
A little after midnight, Jane threw open my door, slamming it into the wall. I jolted awake. All the lights were off in the house (just like any scary scene from a horror movie). Jane was a dark silhouette against my white wall. You can probably imagine how startled I was.
Jane: “Help me! Help me! Please help me!”
Me: “Whats wrong?” I asked trying to recover from the heart attack she had just given me.
Jane: “He’s coming! He’s coming! I can hear him!” she screamed.
Me: “Who is coming?” I knew very well who (or rather what) Jane was referring to. I hoped I was wrong.
Jane: “He’s here! He’s here! He’s in the kitchen!”
Me: “Does he want a sandwich or something?” Generally when I’m uncomfortable I resort to sarcasm, as demonstrated here.
I stopped being cute right away.
Jane’s whole body suddenly convulsed and threw itself (or rather it was thrown) to the floor. She laid there squirming for a minute while I stood staring down at her dumbfounded. Thankfully, I had the good sense to make my way over to the light switch.
I knelt down and tried to pick her up but she clawed at me when I tried to touch her. You know how cats swat at you with their paws when you annoy them? It was just like that.
Her breathing suddenly turned into a pant, like a dog. A very slow deep pant.
I may have taken a step or two (or ten) back at this moment…
Jane whipped around and glared directly at me. Her face was once again contorted into a gleaming twisted smile. Her teeth were clenched. An absolutely terrifying sight to behold.
From deep in her throat came this menacing rumble that rippled throughout her body. Its interesting to point out that this sound did not come from her vocal cords. Its hard to describe exactly what it sounded like.
The best sound that I can compare it too is a the low rumble you might hear if you were outside and a plane is flying miles above your head. Or maybe the low hum of a central air conditioning system as heard from inside a building.
I know, very poor comparisons. But that’s all I have to work with.
This noise lasted for a moment and then it stopped. I breathed a premature sigh of relief.
And the the Monster began to speak. The voice was Jane’s though as it had been before.
And it definitely was not English.
The language that pored fluently from Jane’s lips was unlike anything I had ever heard.
For an example, you may not speak Spanish, or French, or German, but you can recognize them when you hear them spoken.
Going out on a limb, I would assume the language was Hebrew. I knew Jane did not speak anything besides English.
Me: “English please. I don’t speak whatever that is.”
Jane (or rather the monster): “Leave!” it hissed this from between Jane’s teeth.
Me: “I’m not going anywhere, your the one that is going to leave.”
The monster then snickered menacingly and then Jane’s body collapsed. She awoke moments later sputtering on about a dream she had just had about the “black thing”.
The attack didn’t stop there though. Jane began to panic telling the that “he was coming back” and that “she could feel his heart beating inside her”. She then began to say that she heard crashing and screaming in the apartment. I heard nothing. So I made more jokes. I began saying stuff like “I hope he’s going to clean up after himself” trying to lighten the mood.
Jane then said: “Jeremiah, hes here, hes here in this room! And he’s starting at you!”
Me: “Can he hear me?” Jane nodded to this.
Me: “Good. Tell him I said to go F*** himself.”
This was something else I used to do. Showing aggression sometimes made me feel brave when I was otherwise terrified. It was a very inappropriate and potentially dangerous response. Stupidity is not bravery.
Jane: “Don’t antagonize him!”
After a bit Jane calmed down and said that “he” had left.
I asked her if she knew anything about demons. She informed me that she had grown up in church and had heard stories about them. I told her that I suspected that this creature that had visited us that night was in fact a demon.
I said this, but I still didn’t want to believe it. The evidence of the presence of a evil spirit was glaring. But I instantly began making mental excuses again.
Everything that had occurred that night could once again be explained as a mental disorder.
Except that rumbling noise I had heard. And Jane definitely did not speak Hebrew (or whatever that was). That sure was weird.
I once again began to wrap myself in denial. After all, she didn’t levitate or anything crazy. Her head didn’t spin around in a circle. She didn’t puke up green sludge.
And how well did I know this girl anyway? How did I know that whether Jane could speak any other languages or not?
That rumbling though. That was hard to explain.
A week later, I had mentally shelved that October night in the “do not disturb” section, right next to the first incident. Both experiences had definitely been weird, but I was determined to leave it at that.
I responded as the secular world often does when supernatural events smack them in the face. I explained it away as a mental disorder (possibly a chemical imbalance) and I encouraged Jane to get consoling. I even hooked her up with some free online sessions courtesy of my sister.
Once again I blinded myself with lies and pressed madly on like nothing had happened.
Two months past. The holidays came and went. Life proceeded onward.
But the monster would return in the new year. And this time it there would be no denying it.
–based on true events
Some content excerpted from “Monsters Walk Among Us”
Copyright © 2018 by Jeremiah Ryan