The Midnight Horror- RELOADED My Story pt 3

By late October, I had all but dismissed my first encounter with evil. Neither Jane nor I ever mentioned the night that the horrors from her dreams had shown up in our world. 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 was busying herself with her classes and extracurricular activities. We remained good friends and we would hang out whenever we could find time. Jane had been crashing at my place some nights throughout the fall (before and after the first incident).

She was with me the night that the monster came back.

I had gone to bed early that evening due to having to be at work at the ungodly hour of 6am. It was unseasonably, warm so I had left my bedroom window halfway open. I fell asleep peacefully to the dull hum of late-night traffic.

Little did I know that my world was about to be flipped upside down once again.

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: “What’s 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 demanded.

There was a moment of brief debate in my mind about who “he” was. I knew Jane was not on the best terms with her ex-boyfriend which caused my eyes to bounce to my nightstand where my handgun resided. I quickly dismissed this though.

I knew deep down who (or rather what) Jane was referring to. And I knew that my gun would have no effect on “him”. I still briefly clung to a faint hope that I was wrong.

Jane: “He’s here! He’s here! He’s in the kitchen!”

Judging by the look of absolute terror that was now painted across Jane’s tear stained face, I knew that the monster had made his return.

Me: “Does he want a sandwich or something?”

Generally, when I’m uncomfortable (or terrified) 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 help 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 or throw water on them? It was just like that.

Her breathing suddenly transformed 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, making a sinister snarl. Her face was once again contorted into a gleaming twisted smile. Her eyes were wild and bright. An absolutely terrifying sight to behold.

From deep in her throat came a menacing rumble that rippled throughout her body. It’s interesting to point out that this sound did not come from her vocal cords. It’s hard to describe exactly what it sounded like.

The best sound that I can compare it to is 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 rushing cool air through the ducts, as heard from inside a building. It almost sounded mechanical.

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.

Then the Monster began to speak.

The voice was Jane’s own voice, just as it had been before, but the words being spoken were definitely not English. The language that poured 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 by others.

Going out on a limb, I would assume the language was Hebrew or Latin. I knew Jane did not speak any language 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, you’re the one that is going to leave.” (This may seem like a rather brave and bold response, but I assure you I was shaking in my Star Wars pajama pants)

The monster didn’t bother to respond to my fabricated bravery. Instead, it simply snickered menacingly and then Jane’s body dramatically collapsed, once again, like a rag doll. Jane’s eyes snapped open immediately afterwards and she began sputtering on about a dream she had just had about the “black thing”. It was almost an exact repeat of what had happened that September night!

While I was in the middle of telling Jane how she had suddenly become very gifted in the Latin language, Jane began to panic, informing me 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 (because those always help?). I began saying stupid stuff like “I hope he’s going to clean up after himself” and “some people have no respect for quiet hours” trying to lighten the mood.

Jane (In an absolute panic): “Jeremiah, he’s here! He’s 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. And you can quote me on that!”

Once again, I resorted to fake bravery. It’s easy to mouth off to something you can’t actually see. 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.

Looking back at this episode, I have come to the conclusion that me telling the demon to f-off was my way of testing to see if it was real. I assumed that “he” wouldn’t like little old me disrespecting him and that he might do something about it.

Jane: “Don’t antagonize him!”

I’m not sure what I would have done if “he” had responded to my stupidity with aggression. I would have been completely defenseless.

After a bit Jane calmed down and said that “he” had left.

I asked her if she knew anything about demons. Jane informed me that she had grown up in church and had heard stories about them from the Bible. 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 an 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, Latin, or whatever that was. That little bit was definitely hard to explain.

I once again began to wrap myself in denial. After all, Jane didn’t levitate or anything crazy. Her head didn’t spin around in a circle. She didn’t puke up green sludge.

And just how well did I know this girl anyway? How did I know that whether Jane could speak any other languages or not? I mean, she said she couldn’t, but how was I supposed to know for sure?

That rumbling though. That was hard to explain.

A short 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 odd, but I was determined to leave it at that. Weird sure, definitely not demonic!

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 counseling. 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 passed. The holidays came and went. Life proceeded onward.

However, the monster would return in the new year, and this time there would be no denying it.

Monsters Walk Among Us

Copyright © 2018 by Jeremiah Ryan

ISBN 9781723820014

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