Scratches

Zane A. Murray

2:00 A.M.

Have you ever had the feeling that you are never alone in your room? Something awake and breathing in the corner, or a breeze from your closet creaking slowly open, the abysmal void of darkness filling your room space, but never the sight of an entity that you imagine to be tall, made of petrified hands, its eyes being as bright as an old flashlight? Have you ever been so scared in your life, that you’ve had your entire body itch like you've rolled in fiberglass, sweat coming from all sides like you've been in a sauna for several hours, your body shaking so hard like you're outside naked in a blizzard, you start to cry, hoping you'll fall asleep, but the tears just won’t let you? Well that night was something else. My queen sized bed, tightly tucked into the back of the room, is somewhat comfortable on a normal basis, the black sheets becoming nice and warm, something that I recognize as my safe place. My entire house has been fine with the paranormal, and my parents and I have only seen things about once or twice. That’s pretty good if you ask me; living in this house for about 5 years now. My room has a closet next to my bed, passed my desk, and window to the right of it, usually having rain fall upon it. Everything seems very normal during the day, going about our daily activities, with no recollection of the previous nights of no sleep. There are many nights where I get no sleep at all, hearing things and thoughts of seeing things around my medium sized room. There is always something going about. Especially that night. I had just come in a few hours before, fairly tired, and ready for some sleep for once. I did fall into a deep slumber, and it was a good few hours, until there was a thump that came from somewhere in the room. I was startled awake and jerked myself slightly in the bed, under my thin covers. Where could it have come from? My closet? Under my bed? Maybe the attic? I could never tell from these things, so I had listened further, waiting for another noise.

2:15 A.M.

Nothing. Nothing at all. No breathing, no scratching, no knocking, no humming, no noises at all. That was odd. There is always something abnormal going on in the dark sharp corners of my little box. Yet there I lie, in my cushioned, one sheeted sack of comfort, overlapped with nothing but fine linen and fear. I lied there, thinking to myself, whether I should fall asleep again, or get up and sleep downstairs. No, I thought. I can make it like I always do. I sat up onto my pillows, having them fall under my back. I still had the covers over my face, for protection of course. Now I just sat there, waiting for something to happen.

2:20 A.M.

There it was… the breathing. It was quiet this time. I was petrified under my sheets, frozen, yet shaking beyond belief. It was so cold in the room, but the heater had just turned on. It wasn't normal breathing. It was slow, and deep, like a man was there. He'd breathe in normally, but the exhaling was so ridged and went out in gusts. The breathing started to get louder… It was coming from the front of my bed, like someone was standing there, but it had literally moved to the side of my bed, standing over. I started to cry, my chin curled up, my eyes squinted, and water streamed down. The man started to imitate me. The deep breathing started to sob like me, mocking my pain and fear. I had covered my face, and sobbed into my sweaty palms. I had choked up and tried to stop, succeeding, but the man continued to sob ferociously in a violent manner. I had to do something, make it all end. I flipped the covers directly upwards, ready to fight for my life, but upon seeing my dimly lit room, from the light under my door…nothing. There was nothing there. No man, no sobbing…just me.

2:30 A.M.

I don’t know…I don't know what that was. I sat there in my bed. No covers over my face, no urge to try and protect myself from whatever that was. I just sat there…thinking to myself. Am I the monster? Am I the creator of these weird things that go on in my room at night? Am I losing my mind? There surely is an explanation for this. There has never been anything worse happen to me, than just then. Sobbing? Breathing right over me? Help me. I just want to sleep. I’ve been yearning for dreams of sunshine and warmth, but here I lied, in my cold room and dense bed of fright.

2:35 A.M.

I can feel it… like someone is staring at me. I had tucked myself under the covers and into the corner of the wall and bed. Darkness comforted me. and everything wasn't as bad. But there it was, the feeling of lingering yellow eyes like a cat staring at my helpless little meat sack of a body. Food, for something of a darker nature, yearning for a meal. I didn't know where it was coming from, and that made my skin crawl. I sat there, trying to gain the courage to look up past my covers. What would happen to me, if I did? Would I actually be in danger? Or would I be making it all up? Am I just paranoid? I had to…just to make sure. I looked up past my covers, and peering over them with my hands tucked in a grip, was a woman on my ceiling in the corner of my room. She had black hair, yellow eyes, and her mouth was open. Her jaw was dislocated, and was just hanging off her face, drool coming from her mouth. Her eyes were wide open, staring in to my helpless soul…You could see what she was wearing. It was an old white night gown, stains of blood on the bottom trim. Holes everywhere in the dirty white cloth. Her face was dirty too, the left side of her face covered in a dark tint. It was dripping onto my floor. I was terrified. I was frozen again. Wait, I thought, Why can't I move? I was in sleep paralysis and only my eyes could move. The woman dropped to the floor with a splash, fluid of something splashing across my wooden floor. You could hear the bones in her arms break. And her spine crack. It was all so loud, my ears couldn't take it. She sat up, slowly, snapping her arms back into place somehow, and her head cracking sideways. Her jaw was still broken and hanging from her white pale face. She started to take steps towards me. Her head kept jerking back and forth to different shoulders, hearing the snap get louder and louder. My eyes started to water. What is this? She reached out her hands, and placed them on my bed. Bending over slightly, drool went all over the foot of my bed, and blood dripped from her face covering my sheets in red. She lifted herself up onto it, and grabbed my foot with one hand. The other went on my leg, and she started to stroke it harshly, like she was trying to skin it. She yanked the sheet from my hands, and lifted up my shirt. Her hands were so cold, and her nails were long. Oh my God, I thought. She then started to scratch my chest, cutting open my skin, and blood oozing from it. Her hair wiped it up, and she leaned in closer to my face. Her jaw and teeth scraping my bloody chest.

“Hi.”, she says in a deep voice. Then screams in my face. I scream as well and close my eyes as tight as I can. I fling up from my bed, and grasp my chest. Also grasping my covers. I was breathing so heavy, and tears were all over my face. I started to cry and that led to uncontrollable sobbing. I knew that there was nothing there anymore, and I felt my chest, there being no more pain. I can't do this anymore, I can’t. Help me God, help me, I thought. Nothing can save me but some more sleep.

2:50 A.M.

I slept from there on. But woke to my leg aching. Growing pains. I was still a teen after all, and they were common at this stage. I was calming down a little more, convincing myself that it is all a dream or some sort of hallucination or something. I sat up and took off the covers, and started to massage my leg. It started to feel better, and everything started to ease with me getting more tired. This was such a wild night, and I couldn't take it anymore. I started to contemplate whether to go to the downstairs and sleep on the couch, even though my parents hate that, that me having a bed and all. I started to focus on my breathing and calming myself while rubbing my leg softly, remembering what the woman had done. Then there was a scratch. It was subtle and I thought it was just me. I ignored it. There it was again. I stopped rubbing my leg. Scratch. My bed… from underneath. There was something under my bed. I was there frozen, once again, for the third time. Why does this keep happening? I need to get downstairs. That was the first thing that came into my mind. The couch and more lights are my friends at this point. I couldn't wait for more sleep.

“Hear comes more nightmares,
“Memories like a flame,
“I love to make all of you scared,
“I’m the monster that is to blame.”, said a voice from under my bed. It was a high voice, and it cracked literally just twigs. It sounded like, a teenager, underneath my safety.

“That sounds like someone I know.”, I said under my breath in a whisper.

“You’d be right my little friend.”, the voice said. “You’d be right that I am your end.”, he said with a sinister laugh.

I couldn't take this anymore. I was to get up out of the bed, and dash to my door. I’d ignore all of the fear and fright and pain that I had endured through the night, and run into the lit hallway of my upstairs corridors. Yes, that was my plan. It wasn't very good, and I didn't consider the possible consequences. I urged to do it, but the continuous scratching and tapping from the person under my bed, led me to stop myself. I went. I grabbed my sheet and sat up off the bed hastily. I stomped on the hard wood floor and dashed for the door…but a cold wet hand grabbed my ankle…I fell completely flat on my face, and smashed my teeth against the wood. It hurt so bad. I gripped my face, and mouth, and flipped over on my side, and glanced under the bed…it was another me… same pajamas and same look, but his eyes were gouged out blood gushing all over the floor… and he was holding a knife. He had a smile from ear to ear, and he said, “There’s one thing that we all are afraid of when it’s what we hear…and it’s someone of a doppelganger, smiling at your fear.”

3:00 A.M.

And here I am. In the limbo and darkness of the void, in my room space like normal, but the same night lingers. My fear isn't that one self and reflection of myself like in a mirror, its the night on replay, playing over… and over again.