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I'm Not Alone

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This is a series. First post is here.


There were a few questions concerning my last post, and it has taken me this long to come up with the proper responses. I finally was able to ask my mom about some of the weird experiences I had as a younger child. I am only fourteen as I write this now. She does not know that I am writing these.

The police checked our house but were unable to find anything that would suggest a break-in. We stayed with our neighbors for two days before going back to our house. From what I remember, I still went to preschool these days, I had only missed the one day. My sisters too attended school. They were in fourth and sixth grade or thereabouts. I do not remember much from our stay at the neighbors, other than it was with Mrs. McCoy, who still lives next to us, alone now; a widow.

At the time she was still married, though I will not be giving out first names. The stay was uneventful, we went back to our house and thanked them. My mom baked them cookies, I had one while they were still warm, then took them over. I knew she would let me have a few, I sat down and talked to her. She did not ask about why we had stayed at her house, and I am not sure she knows now.

My mom, when questioned, continually tried to change the subject and seemed to be very uncomfortable while we talked. I did not ask her why though, for fear of being shut down entirely. I was, however, still able to get some very useful information, and it has sparked my memory.

I was nearing six years old, and the whole incident (see last post) had nearly been forgotten, though something like that cannot ever be completely lost. I had been allowed to be left at home after confirming with my parents I was fine with it. It still took them a few weeks though before they were both comfortable with it. I was at home one night, my whole family was at home. My dad said he had something for me, I asked what it was, but he replied only with a wink of his light blue eyes. He leaned away from the counter and his laptop to reach into his black leather bag on the floor. It looked like a worn out leather sack that Indiana Jones might use, if his ever wore out. His head appeared again as I stood on my tiptoes, trying to see what he may have pulled from his bag.

I saw him put out his hand, I mimicked him and he placed his fist in my palm, easily overflowing my small hand. He opened his hand and I felt plastic. I brought my hand closer to examine the translucent blue in my hand. It was a pen. I noticed the logo of my dad’s company on the side. I smiled wide and thanked him. I went around the low granite counter and hugged him; my arms could not reach around his broad shoulders to hold my own hand. I inspected the pen and noticed it was also a light, I turned it on to see the dim bulb illuminate the darkness on the other side of the double doors behind my dad. The light barely reached the far wall of the next room, but I still thought it was fantastic. My dad’s eyes twinkled seeing the joy it had brought me.

I went to bed that night, the pen on my night side table, but did not see it when i woke up. It was in my hand now.

“I must have grabbed it in my sleep," I thought.

I also noted that my stuffed giraffe was at the bottom of my bed. Keep in mind I was five, and was in a queen size bed, the same one I have now. I thought it strange that I was able to have shifted so much as to have put the plush toy that far from my reach, but not strange enough to be worried. I lifted the heavy comforter, the square patches of color illuminated as the early morning light peeked through the window. I hopped out of bed and began to get ready for school. I brushed my teeth and showered, then I called my mom into my room to help with my outfit. She opened my closet, then asked what color shirt I wished to wear, I said I did not care, as I normally never did. She handed me an orange shirt, khaki shorts, socks, and my velcro shoes. I was ready in a few minutes and went down to get breakfast, my mom had made pancakes.

I ate and we left for school as soon as my sisters got in the car. My mom came and picked me up from school an hour earlier than my sister, as I was not quite in first grade, but would soon be graduating. Our class had learned a little song that we would be singing at the ceremony. I got home and ate a small snack. My sister heard my screams and came down, I am not sure, but I think I heard it snarl at me, maybe it had said something, but I could not understand whatever it was. My sister asked what was wrong, I looked up fearfully, her dark brown eyes met me with a seriousness that told me she had not wanted to come down. I said what had happened, she looked at me somewhat quizzically, then turned to call our parents. She lifted up the phone; dialed the number; then waited. It seemed to be a very long time, she put down the phone, looking even more puzzled than before and said that their was no dial tone. I said to unplug and replug the phone. She did so, but reported the same. Now she seemed to be a little nervous, she was biting at her hair, splitting the ends of her long golden locks. I asked what we should do, she had no idea. I said we should go to the neighbor's but she said that we should not bother them, unless I was completely serious. I looked her in the eye and said,

"There is something in this house, and I think "it", is a "he". Her eyes widened a little, she took me and we briskly walked out of the house. We crossed the lawn and impatiently rung the doorbell a few times. We were welcomed into the McCoy's home.

Not too long after, my mom went to pick up my sisters. She told me to be good, I said I would. I heard the small *ding* of the driveway alarm as she went off. I did not do much, just played with some toys and the flashlight my dad had given me the other night. I drew a little with the pen as well, but liked the flashlight part better. I tried to be somewhat sparing, knowing the battery would be somewhat difficult to replace. The day was uneventful, but that night my mom realized we did not have any more milk.

I thought this strange, as I had seen an extra gallon that morning. I checked only to see she was right. She left and it was just me and my sister, my oldest sister. My other sister had gymnastics practice. My sister went to her room and did her homework. Her room was in the far upper corner of our house. We do have a fairly large house, but we also have a good security system, and I believe we have always had one that is fairly nice. Anyways, I was downstairs, in almost the opposite corner of our house, where my dad had presented me with the flashlight. The double doors was a gate to utter darkness, and I was fighting off the evil creatures of the dark. I had my flashlight in hand, a cardboard shield in hand, fighting off the invisible foes. One slash and three were struck down dead in their place. I held the beam straight, beckoning another to challenge me; this is when I saw it, not just its boot this time, I saw it dart across the room. I could barely see it in the weak beam, but dropped my shield in surprise. I called out, to no avail.

I crept a little closer; my hand was sweating a little, holding a tight grip on the small pen. My knuckles were white as I reached the darkness, one more step and I was inside of the next room. I moved the beam slowly to the right, where it had run to. I could see nothing, the weak beam produced a large yellow circle on the wall, but was difficult to see even in the room. I walked on, avoiding the ping-pong table, until the light fluttered. It was near unnoticeable, but I had noticed. I was at the far end of the ping-pong table when the light flickered, went out, then came back on. When it had come back on, I was past the ping-pong table, and able to see past the corner of out "L" shaped couch. I froze as I saw some mess of a figure hunched over. Its back was to me, and it appeared to have been wearing a ratty fur coat. It turned and I saw a pale face, but only for a split second as the pen shattered in my hands. I screamed and ran.

My sister heard my screams and came down, I am not sure, but I think I heard it snarl at me, maybe it had said something, but I could not understand whatever it was. My sister asked what was wrong, I looked up fearfully, her dark brown eyes met me with a seriousness that told me she had not wanted to come down. I said what had happened, she looked at me somewhat quizzically, then turned to call our parents. She lifted up the phone; dialed the number; then waited. It seemed to be a very long time, she put down the phone, looking even more puzzled than before and said that their was no dial tone. I said to unplug and replug the phone. She did so, but reported the same. Now she seemed to be a little nervous, she was biting at her hair, splitting the ends of her long golden locks. I asked what we should do, she had no idea. I said we should go to the neighbor’s house, my sister readily agreed. We sat by the window, looking and waiting for our family to return.After ages, our mother and sister returned.

We ran out before they opened the garage and told them what had happened. My mother called my father, who came home early from work. He told us to wait outside and went in. He closed the garage door behind him. About half an hour passed, we were waiting in the car to avoid the early winter frost. My dad came out and told us he had found nothing.We went inside, prayed as a family as we do every night, and all went to bed. On my way upstairs to my bedroom, I could hear my oldest sister calling for her dog.

"Pinky!" She called, "Pinky! Come here!" I heard a few whistles.

She went upstairs and asked our parents if they had let her outside, they said no. She walked a few steps down the hall to my room, knocked, and entered. I walked from the stairwell over and leaned in, I said that I had not let her out. We both walked down past the stairway, and to my sister's room. She knocked, and we entered. She too confirmed that Pinky had not been let out, by our family. Our mom said that she had run away and one of our neighbors would call soon to return her; the call never came.

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