Hello! My name is Jeremy Ranchel, I am a Boston kid right now and I am nineteen. I want… No, I need to share this with someone who would care enough to read my gibberish. It is bad to be alone in my situation. Internet gives us anonymity, so, maybe someone would help me, as they would never drag themselves into this whole ordeal.
As long as I can remember, our family has always been traveling. My father used to work for a military service, that’s why he received a lot of assignments. We were financially ok, so my parents made sure I received proper education and comfort. I thank them for that. There was nothing unusual about me. Yeah, yeah, I know, sounds cliché, but I have really been some random kid.
I remember the day I went to St. Vega’s school in the California. This time my father’s assignment was a long-term one and we expected to live in **** city for a whole year, maybe more. That’s good. It’s nice to have some friends, who are available by mail, but real ones are better. I have attended classes for a while in September. That was a nice school with adequate people inside.
I remember how it all started. I got an «F» in maths because I was not concentrating. Exactly the same day my mother became ill. Nothing serious, doctors said, she would be fine in two days. Still, she needed some pharmaceuticals, so I went to the nearest drug store. It was a cold night.
As I recall, it was October 23rd. After I left the store, I was approached by a group of thugs, demanding some of my money. I was a weakling and gave them what they wanted. They took it, gave me one kick and left. I was trembling and shaking, thus losing the bag and breaking a bottle with the drug inside. I returned home without anything, being ridiculed by my brother, who went to the store after I came and returned successfully.
I was sitting in my dark room like an emo. This was, indeed, a bad day. I hate to write this, but I actually cried and sobbed like a pussy, thinking about my bad life and so on. I remember me saying that I am a loser and turned the lights off, going to sleep. However, that was the first unusual thing – for a brief moment, I swear, I could hear crying and sobbing of someone else. I did not even paid attention to it.
Next day was even worse. I was humiliated at my school by a bully called Hopkins; mother’s condition got worse and my father was sarcastically remarking about me being robbed previous day. Oh, and Internet was off, since my brother had forgotten about it. I had nothing to do, so I wandered around my room, trying to find a worthy video game, film, book, or doing homework. That’s when I noticed something from the window. Some guy with a long nose was standing at the lawn with his back to the road, facing our house. His face was concealed by a hood, however, and I could not make it out. He swiftly turned his head to me, watching without eyes. His nose… Well, I never saw something like that. Evening sunlight made it look like some kind of a beak or something. He silently watched me.
I was already angry because of what happened to me earlier. So, I just ran down to the door, to face him and get him out from our lawn. Of course, he was not there. But my window was open. Now I was really angry, I ran back, went into my room… He was not there. However, he left something for me. There was a chicken in my room. Seriously, live chicken. Live, crucified chicken. That’s right. Poor thing was trying to do something as both of bird’s wings were nailed into my bed. I was shocked and wanted to vomit. And I did. It was horrible, watching that poor animal trying to survive. I noticed a sign on its belly which said: "Jeremy." It was not painted. Feathers were removed and on the empty spots, wounds were carved to form a sign. I screamed and ran downstairs.
Police found nothing. Situation looked like a cruel prank for them. It was serious, though. I turned on the lights for the night and kept them that way. I was unable to sleep, so I listened to the night. Nothing special, though I think I heard quite sobbing.
You may not believe me, but next day was even worse. My mother was still ill, lying in the bed whole day. My father was angry because of his workplace problems. When I went to school, I noticed that many of my fellow students were hostile to me. Someone said that there are "rumors" about me being "a dirty fetishist." Even worse, for some reason my homework was missing. As I stood there while my teacher was telling me about bad things, lies and laziness bring, I looked at the window and saw my homework flying away by the wind.
My friends were not available for various reasons and I had problems with finding the book I wanted to read. I was not even surprised. I had a terrible period in my life. The thought of it being engineered made me really uncomfortable.
I awoke that night because of a noise. The person in the hood was walking around my room. I pissed in my pants, yes, I’ll admit that. He was not just looking around. He was breaking items apart. Pencil? He broke it. Your family’s photo? He had torn it apart. Books? He took pages from it and threw the books into the window. I was stunned. I could not move out of fear. "Jeremy!" I heard my mother’s voice. Person turned to the door. He took out a small bag and threw it onto the floor. Then he jumped into the window without any precautions. His legs and arms were so unnatural in the moonlight. Like a toy, action figure, they were rotating on 360.
My mother came in. She coughed and asked: "Jeremy, what the hell is going on? Why are you breaking our home apart?!" I was there with no words. She looked around my room. "What the hell?" she noticed the bag lying on the floor. She inspected it and went pale. She showed me the bag: cannabis. "How long are you smoking this sh*t, Jeremy?!" My father and brother were now awake. They came in and just stood there. "Our son is a drug addict, Richard!" "What’s the big deal, mom?" my brother, Simon asked. "Go to your room. And you, Jeremy… You have really disappointed me. You have problems getting the healing drugs for your mother yet, you have no problems with getting yourself a recreational ones." They left the room. I was crying. And someone else was crying with me.
Each day was worse than a previous one. That man. No, that thing… It was sabotaging my life. Vital and necessary items gone missing, electricity shut downs, total hate towards me from the people around me. I could not tolerate that anymore. It was a time for an action.
Trying to film his actions was a useless attempt. I bought five cheap Chinese video cameras set to work all day long in all areas of the house, but it was in vain. One camera was broken into pieces, another one went missing. The camera in my room was modified with random clips of dogs while original footage was lost. Two other cameras died off. Their disks were corrupted. Don’t you think I have not tried to get help? I told about it with everyone, my family who should have seen him; police, psychiatrist. The only evidence was given by my father. He noticed that something wrong is going on around the house. Everyone else ridiculed me for my "fantasies."
I want to tell you more about my psychiatrist. She was confident about me imagining the monster, I called Shihana. I don’t really know why, but when I think about it, the name comes to mind. I believed her for some time. I took the pills, I tried to forget about what happened in my room, but that Friday, I came out from her office and got a message: "Glad you still remember me."
I was afraid to sleep. Each night I was expecting to see that beak, that stinger… Why? Because when I was returning from school, I saw Shihana lying under the car, watching me. I ran off. I should have killed it.
On December, 17th, he went too far. He mutilated Simon. He broke both of my brother’s arms on the street when no one was around and then… Some people would say he made a strike against my brother’s dignity. Worst of all, he cut my brother’s tongue. I guess, so Simon would not tell police about that fucker. I cried. And he cried with me. His eyes were telling me to avenge him. For the first time we had an understanding. I hugged him and promised to find the responsible and end him.
It was enough for me. I have not tried to buy a gun, of course. He was watching me all the time, he would have been prepared, like, maybe calling police. I decided to finish this Shihana scum with a metallic pipe. I used it as a furniture item long before all this mess started. I walked around the house with pipe, trying to find him. No success. Coward was hiding. When I went to sleep, he crawled from wherever his hole was. After I awoked, my whole room was total mess with everything torn apart and broken. Worst part of it? My brother’s tongue was lying there tied around a metallic pipe. I had to vomit.
Our home was about to be sold. We had to move to the new apartment with all the mess around – my brother’s condition, my father losing his job, my mother getting more and more sick. I am just nineteen! I can’t bear it anymore. I bought a gun. I can’t keep a promise to my brother. I can’t kill Shihana, but I can finish this. They say that death from a bullet is not painful. I hope so. I told my brother about my plan. He cried. And hugged me. Perhaps, my family would be saved from what is approaching me. It is just…
I still have some friends. If you are reading this, it’s because I sent the message via Facebook to those who would
JEREMY IS IN HELL NOW. NO BIG DEAL.