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Circle of Insecurity

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Circle Of Insecurity vanished within fog

Hello. My name is Dr. Hillardson, better known as Dr. H. This document is written by me, seen by the eyes of me too. Read at your own risk as Charlie did once, the whereabouts of this man is unknown as the same fate may be yours... read upon your deciding. Thank you.

The Circle of Insecurity (This story is a semi-plagiarism of the short story "N." by Stephen King. Though not an exact copy, it is, in essence the same story. I just thought people should know.)

The Story

I am writing this before It comes after me... let me start from the beginning... Monday August 9, 2010. I have been working as a psychiatrist for near to 19 years now, I have made many successes with many patients. Today was different though, this man walked in... I was sitting at my desk going through files of information from my common patients.

He just walked in without me even knowing that he was going to come, I walked over to him and starting questioning him as of why he was here, "Excuse me sir, you did not set up any appointments with me at this hour... why are you here?" I ask concerned.

He simply ignored me and kept walking over to my couch I have my patients rest on while talking. I sat in my chair and was about to speak as he starting talking, "You have to help me doc, help me..." He started describing himself, as I would normally start off with my patients.

" My name is Wilbur Hanson, I do not have much time..." He said nervously as he folds his hands upon his chest clearly attempting to relax. " I waste my life, or at least a lot of time in it... and I suffer for it...." He says sounding relieved every time he has a break in between words... " I suffer from terrible OCD..." He says as he gets up and rearranges the flowers and box of tissues on the table lying in front of him. "Couldn't be that bad you would need to come to my office for.... you know you have it, diagnosed with it, were you born with it?" I asked in curiosity. "Actually, no.... I got it about a year ago, since then it is like living torture that I cannot escape... For example, I would walk home from work everyday counting... just counting... one day I might count brown shoes, next day I might count black, or even shirts, or pants, or hats-" He speaks as I interrupt him...

"Well if you are clearly addicting to the sense that you have OCD and annoying habits, haven't you adapted to it yet? To the point where it simply does not bother you? And how exactly did you get OCD in the first place.." I ask stopping myself as I notice that I am clearly overwhelming him.

"Um.. It cannot be adapted with me at any point, something is so wrong about it.. Just last week, I was counting black business shoes on the way home... I was at 14 which was going fine until I saw a man wearing a business shoe... shoe... he only had one leg, I could not simply ignore it so I knew I had to count it." Said the man as I notice he did answer my last question.

"One leg.... is that a problem? It is just one more number to count..." I say to the man as I am assuming he is just lost his sanity over whatever has happened to him... "Yes, but that is an odd number.... that is a bad number..." He says simply.

"So... I do not see what you are getting at..." I express to the man, "I cannot simply live with an odd number, I just feel the threat of death upon me... I ended up going back to work and walked home again recounting, taking away a lot of my time of the day..." He says nervously.

"I see..." What could have put him into this state... I decide to ask him again, but without so much tension this time...

"So Wilbur... What happened to make you like this?"

I ask calmly patting his shoulder, "Are you sure? I would not want to endanger you..." I nod to him and let him continue.

"Well.... Last year, when I was in Maine... I was taking photographs of the scenery and when I was out hiking, I saw this beautiful formation of rocks in a circular pattern... I took some photos of it, suddenly I start to notice the humidity in the air around there... I look back at the stones as it was very foggy around it so I decide to look a bit closer.." He starts closing his eyes to aid in his explaining.

"I looked as I got closer and closer, but when I went up to the stones I put my hand on it... it actually put a numb sensation in my hand as I let go, only for a few seconds though... I look around the rock to see the inner circle, I also notice a little bulge of darkness at the middle of the formation.. I figure it is just a rock but it slightly moved, so I want to step closer to it but as I stepped in the circle, a surge of numbness shot through my body... and I fell to the ground!"

Suddenly he rolls off the couch, pulling himself back up and lays himself back down to finish his story.

"Uh... sorry, but I looked up at the bulge as the top of it slightly moves up.. I started shaking as I can barely move, I saw eyes appear on it... only as if a cat looked in the dark, I only saw the glare off of it but it was red, not like a cat's normal eye glare... red"

The man starts breathing heavily, and then lets out a long sigh, " I couldn't move, it felt like a shock of paralysis..." I began thinking about how dramatic the experience was for him, and somehow he now suffers a terrible case of OCD from it. I do not suspect it is OCD though, but just him playing with numbers too anxiously... or it could mean something. So he loves even numbers... he feels... "safe". Odd numbers are bad though, he cannot simply live with himself if he finishes counting something with an odd number, I am putting the pieces together but it still does not make sense as of what this means!

I asked him the exact location of where this formation was, and he explained the trail he went through and the site. So I decided to drive up to Maine the following morning. I am taking a picture of the stones Wilbur gave me. It is twilight and I am on Main Street, Sandy River in Maine. The trees are linear to the road around it, right where Wilbur told me to... I stop the car upon the side of road and step out. Ah, Maine.. I haven't been here in so long. It is nice to be welcomed back to a nice hike in the woods, or so I thought.

After about half and hour of dragging myself through the woods of Maine... I reach the SaddleBack Mountain! Beside this mountain is where the rock formation is said to be, I am close... I felt so alive for a brief moment, then empty and vulnerable. I did not understand why this has happened, probably just a change in the wind but I continue anyway... I also started to notice a faint fog rolling inwards for ahead of me, just as Wilbur has experienced. Perfect. Everything is going according to plan.

I see something ahead though, tall and thick.... Ah, it is the stones! They look outstanding, Looks like the stones from Stonehenge! Beautiful! I am up the stones now, the fog is thick and the only things in my sights are the stones and the picture... I try to think about being in Wilbur's shoes, what would he do...

I begin counting the stones in the formation, 8.. perfect even number. I look at the picture, I count 8 stones.... whatever.. same place I know for sure now! I begin walking forward and I feel the temptation to count something again, I try to ignore but it is just bugging me... and I have no idea why! So I just decide to begin counting the formation again...

1..2...3...4...5...6..7......? Where is the other stone? I swear I counted 8 before! I count again... 1...2...3...4...5...6...7! Why are there seven stones? There can't be.... I try to forget about it but it is just stuck in my head.... I touch the stone, it feels rough... normal... nice actua- Ah! I got struck by a shot of numbness in my legs. I fall downwards and use my arms to grab the edge of the stone and pull myself over the see around it... the numbness is slowly becoming weaker... I look around the corner and hear the words deeply echoing inside my head, "Stay... Out..."

I poke my head around the corner as I attempt to get up on one knee, as I get on it I look up and the formation... there is something there now. It looks like a strange small cryptid slouched over and the back is moving suggesting it is heavily breathing... much like Wilbur was, although it was facing away from me. I look back down, to see the number "7" sketched into the ground with a claw-like mark. I look back up to see the creature moving slightly more now.

It slowly turns around to look at me... I then squint my eyes to get a better look to see it... grinning. Strangely my body forces me to the ground, with my front on the ground and my neck tilted upwards looking at the creature... The sides of the grin slowly grow wider and I see more detail in it. It is a slightly hairy creature, but you can still see a brownish-black texture as the skin.

The eyes of the creature slowly open to reveal a glare of red eyes, a cat-like eye pattern appear as the pupil. The wind picks up intensely and I actually start getting pushed back! The creature lowers itself to a prowling position and takes a leap at me... the last thing I saw was him in the air above me with claws extended, hair raised, and grin ever creepishly piercing my soul. I awaken in my bed, heavily wounded with scratches and gouges all over my body. Yet nobody is around me, I do not understand how I happened to return back to my home.... I look out my window and see my car in the driving space.

I begin counting my steps to the bathroom, 15... whatever. I look in the mirror and begin shaving this damned 5 o' clock shadow off my face... I see behind me in the mirror, the creature on my bed... slouching... grinning... I turn around in shock, only to find nothing there.

I start counting my steps to the kitchen... 29! I turn around and go to the bathroom to start again... 32.. good. I pull out some pages and begin writing this document only to hide it. I begin counting the words in this document... 1844 words... safe. For now that is though.

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