The nightmares came in an endless torrent of torment and suffering. The most vile of images were forced into her mind violently, painfully. Long buried secrets resurfaced as memories from the past assaulted her over and over again. She writhed in the bed, moaning and weeping in her sleep, crying out in sudden anguish as she gripped her blankets so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Tears stained her face, she cried out again, and her husband shook her gently, not wanting to cause her more fright, but the nightmares would not release their grip on her. It was, without a doubt, a most beautiful sight.
I left the bed room, unseen by all, and made my way down the hallway of the second floor to her home. A nice home, decorated with love and care. There was a bathroom on the right side of the hallway just near the top of the stairs, a half bath in the master bedroom, and a half bath down stairs. The children’s rooms sat opposite each other, one to the right and the other on the left. The walls in between were marked with bright smiles and happy memories in the form of family portraits or pictures of the children. I could tell that they were a loving family, happy, content…that would change.
The pictures were the first to go. I brushed my hand through the air and one by one each imagine slipped from the wall and came hurtling to the floor in a loud, shattering, crash! The glass exploded and tiny shards went sent flying, scattered over the salmon colored rug-a nice surprise for bare feet- sinking deep into the soft, cushiony, fibers.
Next I entered the room to the right. There in the bed slept a sweet cherub of a child. His dark hair was a tuff of wavy curls atop his tiny head. He clutched a teddy bear in one arm while the other was bent upward towards his face allowing him to suck his thumb as he slept. How sweet and innocent he looked, how peaceful and unaware of the evil that stood just at the foot of his bed. “Well, we can’t have that now can we?” I said allowed, though knowing no one could hear me. I flickered the lights in the child’s room just for effect, I loved doing that, it made the humans jump but still uncertain of what was happening. Of course, in his sleepy state, he didn’t even realize what I was doing. “Time to wake little one.” I mused. I went to the dresser and looked over the toys and stuffed animals that were lined up neatly atop it.
A small stack of books rested next to an overly cheerful jack in the box. With a quick jerk of my arm I flung everything onto the floor, including the small colorful lamp that was nauseatingly adorable. It smashed into the floor with a loud crunch. The child jerked awake suddenly and sat up in the bed. He looked over on to the floor and saw the mess. His face drained of color as fear took hold of him. “Mommy!” He screamed suddenly. “Mommy! Daddy!”
Instinctively his parents ran to his room and comforted him as he sobbed against their night clothes. The entire house was awake now, and it was time to put on a show.
I could, I suppose, have eased up on them. Let them take in all that had happened so far and ready themselves for the next onslaught but I was having too much fun, plus I had a promise to keep, and I don’t like breaking my promises.
As the confused and alarmed parents attempted to calm their screaming children I decided to take an unofficial tour of their modest but adorable little suburban home. The mother really did have a keen eye for home décor. Everything seemed so cozy and charming. I could just picture the family sitting by the fire with coco and marshmallows, or at the kitchen table conversing over apple crisp. The thought of such things makes me ill.
My wanderings took me next into the kitchen. It was quaint. Nothing out of the ordinary but it reminded me of something one might find in better homes and gardens. I imagined the mother cooking in her apron, hair done, nails perfect, make-up flawless, while her family eagerly waited at the table; The perfect nuclear family with a leave-it-to-beaver feel. I hated seeing happy families. Dysfunctional ones were easier to break up because they were partly there already. The ones with stronger bonds were increasingly harder to get to and it was way more work than I had previously intended to put into this little venture, but then, this was a special case and I didn’t want to disappoint.
My task was simple; create as much mayhem as possible. I decided to start by opening all of the cupboard doors and flinging the dishes over the floor. Next I pulled out the drawers and dumped out their contents. I plugged the sink then turned the water on, another of my favorite tricks to pull; there is something delightful about flooding someone’s home. After that I went to the refrigerator and began pulling out random food items. I either opened the containers and dumped them or tossed the larger ones across the room into the wall. The room seemed pretty well destroyed by this time so I left the kitchen for another room, though I did stop long enough to overturn the table and chairs as just a finishing touch.
I wreaked my havoc on the down stairs bathroom next, and then moved into the living room. I upset furniture, tore photographs off walls, or knocked them off end tables. I threw knick knacks and other decorative items across the room and even tore down the drapes. It was now three-thirty five in the morning and the entire family was downstairs. The mother was in hysterics which pleased me immensely.
This was for her after all, all for her. She screamed in vain at the unseen force demolishing her home. She was an absolute mess and close to having a break down. I had to smile at this; I couldn’t have planned it any better.
The children were terrified and the father, well, he just seemed utterly perplexed by the entire thing. I knew that their night was over, none of them would sleep again that night, and their days would be spent drained, half asleep yet fearful of what their dreams may be. They would suffer well into the next night and I would return. But for now, I’d decided that they had had enough and I thought best to leave them “wanting more.”
Before I exited though I had one last thing to do, something to cement my relationship with them, with her; I went to the large spacious area of wall in the living room, now free of portraits and wall decorations, and with my finger I burned a message deep into the plaster. “You cannot keep me out, you will never be rid of me, and I am always with you. This is far from over, you WILL pay!”
The mother watched in horror as the words appeared on her wall, etched into her mind for all eternity. You cannot erase the fear I put in her mind, eventually it will drive her mad, and when it does, I will finally have her soul. For now though, I’m content to watch her suffer. There is nothing she can do, no one she can call, and no way for her to rid herself of me. She created me, called me, she unleashed me, and now this hell is hers to bear.
