This may be the last chance I get to tell this story, I don't know how long I can keep him at bay. As I type I can feel him breaking out of the mental prison I have trapped him in.

My sad situation started one warm summer night. The wind was blowing through my open window, and the sweet smell of the trees and fresh rain had me in a relaxed and melancholy mood.

I was just nodding off to sleep when I felt something shift in the room. The sweet smells of summer were gone and the room felt icy cold. The rain had come to a complete stop, and the world outside was silent. Not even a cricket could be heard.

I looked around the room and saw nothing. Then, all of the sudden, I heard my dog barking outside and clawing at the door. It was very unlike our dog to seem scared of something, as he was a Bullmastiff, and was as big as a horse. But nevertheless he was barking and whimpering like a whipped puppy.

After a minute of this, I couldn't stand it anymore. I went down the stairs to the front door and let the poor beast in. Once inside, he ran straight up to my room. I followed, granted not as fast as him.

Once in my room I found him sitting, looking into a corner, his hair on end and letting out a slow and steady growl. I couldn't make heads or tails of it, but there had been rustling in the wall that I had just assumed were rats (I live on a farm, so that's pretty common), so I simply got back in my bed and tried my best to go to sleep.

I finally dozed off, but was awakened after about an hour or so by my dog barking as loud as he could at that same corner. I sat up and turned on my lamp.

What I saw almost made me jump out of my skin. Protruding out of the wall was a mangled and distorted face of what looked like a man, only something was wrong with it. It seemed translucent and almost smokey in nature. The only thing that looked real on the apparition's face was its bloodshot eyes.

I tried to scream but could get no words out, it was like there was no air left in the room. My dog was now frantic. He tried to attack the newfound intruder, whatever it was. But as he lunged at the face of this creature, it stepped out of the wall and grabbed my dog by the throat and smashed him to the floor with an awful THUD.

That was it. The dog lay there dead, and the form of a man that had just killed this large loving pet just stood there looking at it, a contorted grin on his mangled face... almost like he was proud of what he'd just done.

He then slipped back into the wall he had come out of. The last thing I saw of him that night was his bloodshot eyes staring at me, and that cold, contorted grin, right before he had fully slipped into the wall and out of sight.

My dad then burst into the room looking for the source of the loud noise he'd heard downstairs in his room, when he saw our dog slumped on the floor he stopped dead in his tracks. He asked me what had happened, but what was I to say? A ghost killed our dog? He would've sent me off to the loony bin.

Instead I told him the dog was after a rat, and jumped at it only to miss his landing and slam into the wall breaking his poor neck. My dad seemed to buy the story, but I knew it wasn't true, even though part of me hoped it was true and I'd dreamt the whole thing.

At any rate I didn't want to stay in that room, so I slept downstairs on the sofa for three days until I felt it was safe to return. Looking back now, I wish I had just left the farm but where would I have gone?

The night that followed in that room would be the worst of my life. I lay in my bed unable to sleep, just staring at the corner of the wall that I'd seen that thing come out of the last night I'd slept in that room, but nothing seemed to happen.

And then at about 2:30 AM, I saw something start to stir from the wall. It was back. I tried to get out of bed but I couldn't bring myself to move an inch. It was like something was holding me back. My eyes were locked with that dreadful creature's bloodshot eyes now visible from the wall.

It was like it was somehow possessing me, taking over my being. It slowly walked up to me, put its hand on my forehead and then... nothing, I blacked out.

When I awoke I was in our barn, my clothes now tattered and covered in blood, a kitchen knife in my hand. What had I done while I was out?

I ran into the house only to find my mom and dad slaughtered in their room. They had been cut to ribbons by a knife. Had I really killed them? I couldn't remember anything from the time that thing touched me until I awoke in the barn.

I was too scared to call the police. What if they thought I'd done it? I'd have gotten the needle. The way the bodies were mangled, it would've taken a jury an hour to convict me.

I couldn't face that. I wish I had though. Called the cops I mean, at least that way I could've been stopped before I hurt anyone else. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

No. I couldn't call the cops, so I ran away. I got cleaned up, packed my bags and hopped on a bus to the next town. I wanted to get as far away as I could. I had been there a couple of times and knew it well enough to get around.

I arrived there at about 8:00 PM. I had to find a place to sleep, so I went to the town park and settled in under a bridge for the night, when suddenly I felt that same cold again. That icy cold.

Only this time it wasn't coming from the air; it was coming from me. Like my entire core was a block of ice, I blacked out again. And when I awoke for the second time I was again covered in blood, a brick in my hand and a dead man and a woman laying on the ground before me in a pool of blood.

I dropped the brick and ran back to the bridge in the park. All I could think while I was running was what was going on? What was inside me? And how can I stop it? I had to stop it.

I got cleaned up again and went back to my hometown, everyone was talking about some people who were murdered. The police hadn't released the name yet, but I knew who it was that had been killed.

I went to my best friend's house, and asked if it was okay if I spent the night, as his parents were out of town. I still have no idea why I did that, somewhere deep inside me I had to have known what was going to happen.

What that thing would have me do.

I stayed up all night, and all day the next day. God, how I wanted to rest. But I knew I couldn't.

On the second night of me staying there I could bear it no longer. I had to sleep, I just had to. And that's when the worst thing yet happened.

I felt the same cold in my core, only this time when that creature took control of me I didn't black out. I saw everything. My hands picking up the screwdriver on the counter, my hands opening my best friend's door, the same door I'd seen hundreds of times growing up. My friend asleep on the bed... my hand clenching the screwdriver raised above his face. What happened next... I cannot bring myself to tell you what I did next. What that thing inside me did.

When I gained control again, my friend was dead, his face almost unrecognizable. My hands were covered in my best friend's blood, my face speckled with it. I wasn't able to stop it, this thing inside me. It was too strong to stop.

It had killed again. I had killed again, only I hadn't done it. That thing was using my body. That ghost or spirit, or whatever it is that is still eating away at me even as I write this.

Now you know my story. I've made up my mind I can't hurt anyone else. I'm going to turn myself in, that is if I can stop what ever is inside me. God help me if I can't.

I just don't want to hurt anyone else... please God not again... I feel that same cold in my core. That icy, soulless cold.

I have to go now, I have to stop this. I can't let it happen again. I won't let it happen again. I'm going to end it. End it all.

I just have to let people know it wasn't my fault, I didn't mean to hurt those people. How could I have? What had they done to me?

I can't live with this thing inside me any more. Goodbye, whoever you are.

I can rest now, knowing at least you know what happened. I can finally rest again after what seems like eternity... I'm going to rest now... Forever.