Road Kill

“Oh shit! What the fuck?!”

Tom stands there startled and though he would never admit it out loud he was downright scared shitless. No one expects to see a stranger sitting in the passenger seat of their car as they walk out of their house at night. And to see an elderly, white haired woman sitting and staring at you, motionless, with a face that probably reflected Tom’s, one of utter shock and fear, can spook a fucker out.

He gawks at this exceptionally creepy woman, until he gains the will to look around hoping to find someone, anyone to make sense of what the hell he was looking at. Tom asks himself quick, random questions: Was someone punking him? How did this spooky hag get in his car? Wasn’t his alarm set? Or did his airhead wife forget to set it like she always does when she comes home from work? Is she the one fucking with him? These were just a few of the questions for which he found no suitable, immediate answer.

Tom slowly backs up toward his front door, stumbling over a bricked garden that tripped him on an unexpected curve. As he balances himself, he opens the front door and calls out to his wife, “Lill! Lillian! Get your ass out here! Lillian, hurry up!”

“I am on the toilet! What the hell?” Lillian responds, concerned yet annoyed.

“There is an old lady sitting in the fucking car! You know about this?” Tom asks as he moves further into the house to get in better range to hear her answer.

“What are you talking about Tom?”

“Wipe your ass and come see this!”

Lillian rushes out of the hallway restroom, buttoning her pants on the way out. “An old lady is in our car?”

“Yes! Come see…”

Tom follows Lillian out of the front door. “Tom, you rushed me off the toilet for nothing! You scared me half to death! Quit being a dick and just go get dinner.” Lillian storms back inside and up the stairs as Tom comes outside, looking confused that the old woman was gone from his car. He closes the front door behind him and approaches his car to take a closer look. The doors are locked and all of the seats were empty other than the smelly junk he had thrown on them during the past few weeks. As he unlocks the car and takes a seat in the driver seat he notices that there are tree leaves and sticks on the front passenger seat. He didn’t remember putting anything on the seat yesterday that would have left this particular mess but he also didn’t know what his wife was up to earlier in the day when she used the car for work and errands. “It is dark outside, I’m trippin’,” Tom mumbles, convincing himself, “Fuck it stinks like taint in here! I gotta clean this shit out tomorrow.”

He pulls out of the driveway in route to pick up a couple burgers. This was a 15 minute trip to the middle of a small, affluent town, just outside of the city. Tom figures he can make it there in 10 minutes if he speeds. He doesn’t want his wife, Lillian, to give him any shit about the food being cold either so he will have to speed back. Thinking about how she is “rich daddy’s little princess” and a certified bitch, he questions if he would have ever married her a year ago if she wasn’t rich and smoking hot. These thoughts keep him from focusing on the nasty, vanishing hag.

Tom drives down several winding and wooded roads until he makes it to the center of town to stop at the burger joint. He notices the drive thru is out of order and reverse parks so he can go into the restaurant to pick up his food. As he exits, he sneaks a couple fries out the bag and walks up to his car. He notices that the passenger side bumper had a large dent in it along with a cracked headlight and a dent on edge of the hood of the car. Tom squats down to inspect the damage further and notices some blood, flesh and hair in the grill of the car. He did not notice the damage while at his house or on the way there since it was too dark. Starting to get really pissed off, he questions why Lillian did not tell him that she hit something while using the car today.

As he stands up he once again gets terrified, so much so that he tosses his food and drinks up in the air and stumbles backward onto the ground. He scoots backwards, trying to gain distance from the same old woman that was once again sitting in the passenger seat of his car. She is staring out of the side window as she was at his house but this time she is not looking at him, but rather just staring out into the distance, with the same fucked up, twisted look.

Tom composes himself and apprehensively walks to the driver’s side of the car and veers into the open window. “Hey, what the fuck are you doing in my car?” he sternly asks. He has a better look at the woman now; she looks like she is in her 90’s, dirty and skinny with white, balding, frizzy hair that looks to have been fried from years of dyeing her hair. She’s wearing a cream colored house dress with a delicate lace neckline, tattered and ripped in places, with dried blood decorating the slits in her gown. Her dress reaches further than her knee with only her vein and spot-riddled, sickly white skin exposed at her calves and chins. No thanks to an extremely well lit parking lot, Tom notices her bare feet. They were a special type of hideous; mangled nails of yellow and gray, arthritic toe knuckles, and dried cracks of ash and wrinkles wrapping around mind numbingly grotesque bunions.

Looking as though she is injured, Tom feels the need to assist her. “Old lady, do you need me to take you to the hospital or something?” The hag, still looking opposite of Tom, nods her head once. He notices her ears were incredibly large, but remembers his own grandparents and how a friend told him that the nose and ears are the only two parts of the body that continue growing your entire life. His grandparents face verified this fact, as did this woman’s ears, double-fold. He jogs back to grab the still closed bag of food and as he sits onto the driver’s seat he is hit with a pungent odor that could only be described as death meets mothballs meets rubbing alcohol. It permeates the vehicle and he could practically feel it being absorbed into his skin. It took all of his restraint and several rolled down windows to keep from gagging more than twice. “Ugh, I’m going to need a bath after this,” he whispers to himself.

Tom pulls out of the parking lot and makes his way toward the hospital that was 3 miles away. He tries striking a conversation with the woman, “How did you get in my car at the restaurant? Were you hiding on the floor in the backseat or something? Are you a ninja or something because I did not see you there at all?” The hag offers no response. “Did someone hurt you? You look like you are bleeding.” He still receives no response from the woman. He decides to focus on the road, thankful that the woman decided to keep to herself.

As Tom approaches an especially winding part of the tree-hugged road leading to the hospital, he starts to slow down like he always did taking this road due to the high level of accidents in the area. It was always difficult to navigate the bends of the road while keeping enough room for oncoming cars on the other side of the road. He passes a secluded ranch style house, the only home on this road. He suddenly gets startled by a high pitched screech coming from the woman. “HERE!” the hag shouts with drawn out, ear piercing intent. Tom swerves accidentally due to the violent scream of the woman and slams his brakes as he swerves toward the shoulder of the road.

He turns his head to push on the dome light and finds the old woman staring at him again with the same fear-inducing expression. Her eyes are blue and cataract and her nose is bulbous, overgrown and oddly pointy all the same. Skin tags and age spots line the neck of her chest bone. Small, hairy brown moles litter her defined cheekbones and her eyebrows were as non-existent as her thin lips and her flat, minimal chin. Tom sits paralyzed at the sight of this hideous woman staring at him with alarmed, blink-less eyes. She raises her right hand and her startled expression turns into a thin grin as she reaches her arm out to smoothly stroke Tom’s left cheek with her swollen, arthritic knuckles.


Tom returns home and places the bag of food on the oven. He proceeds upstairs into the master bedroom and closes the door. Lillian is on the living room couch watching some reality talent show. She jumps up and heads to the kitchen. “Damn Tom what took so fucking long? I’m starving! Where are the drinks? Hey, can you hear me?” Lillian asks. “Yeah well look, a fucked up thing happened today. I hit something on my way to my gyno appointment. I think it was a deer or something. It messed up the front of the car a bit. I spoke with Daddy and he said he will fix it for me so don’t be pissed at me. Serves that dumb thing right walking on the side of the fucking street like that. I didn’t even stop to see if it was ok, I was so pissed. I was late enough as it was.”

Tom did not respond and Lillian assumes he was angry about it and just stormed up to the room like he always did when he was pissed with her. She eats her food alone, finishes her show and takes in some Facebook time then goes up to the bedroom to go to bed. As she changes into her nightgown she notices Tom isn’t in bed but the light in the master bathroom was on. Lillian sits at the edge of the bed looking at her phone while waiting for Tom to come out of the bathroom, “Are you almost done in there? It fucking stinks in here. Flush!”

Tom emerges with an angry expression on his face and approaches Lillian. She knew he was angry about the car and decides to try to sweet talk him to bed, “Come on baby, don’t be mad at me about the car. I told you Daddy will fix it. He always fixes my problems, you know that. I love my Daddy. I love you too baby,” Lillian explains as she stands up to coax Tom to bed. “Don’t be so pissed Tom. Come on, if I take a picture with my phone to post on Facebook will you smile for me? I’ll kiss your dick to make up for it.” Tom gives an uninspired smirk as Lillian takes the photo. He steps forward and reaches out his right hand to gently caress the left side of Lillian’s flirtatious face.


“This is a helluva scene here boys. Three of these in one week? I couldn’t tell you the last time I was on one of these cases. First that old lady was found on the side of the road on her weekly walk to the hospital to pick up her meds. And now these poor souls? Brian, be sure to bag up those leaves and sticks on the floor and that girls cell phone for evidence. And what the hell am I looking at here doc? Is that their spine I see poking out? How in the fuck do you think they broke their necks like that?”

“Sarg, come see this! You have GOT to take a look at this fucking photo.”

by StupidDialUp


The Ameriken Neck

Myths and legends are always born from some sort of truth. Whether it be an interpretation of the power of water and fire or dreams or an old animal that is now extinct in modern times that grew a reputation of being a “dragon” or “unicorn” based on some curious old bones found centuries ago. Many of these mythos came during times of great change, whether it be during great famine, war, climate change or other powerful weather phenomenon.

Our mind has a way of matrixing out patterns to give the violent, chaotic world some clarity and sense. It’s why the mind created the coping mechanisms we call “belief” and “faith.” Our mind is so powerful that it can give us the feeling and experience of a reality that may be completely false or even half-true, so long as we can make sense of the world around us and allow us to survive within it. Survival and coping…It is how and why our mind creates psychosis or even physical inflictions like the stigmata. These are all mechanisms and they are as powerful if not more powerful than the real world.

These instincts of our mind are what also helps create elements in our world made from nightmares. Part of coping and surviving skills of the mind is when it tells us when to fight or take flight. To warn us of unforeseen dangers, whether real, possibly real or even imagined, the mind makes all of this reality when stressed hard enough. It is this basic understanding of the mind that makes those in positions of power in religion, politics, military and media powerful and dangerous.

It is also what makes the occult equally as powerful and dangerous. Hoodoo and Wicca, Voodoo and Santeria, etc. all have the ability to use the power of the mind to create alternate realities for those who believe and share faith. It is also why superstitions, incantations, spells, urban myths and curses are often proved to be real, if not to the many then to the select few who are impacted by it.

And it is why I became so enthralled with the legend of the “Neck.”

The “Neck” is also known as a “Nixie/Nix” in English folklore or the “Kappa” in Japanese lore, or Rusalka/Vodyanoy in Slavic mythology. It is where beings like Sirens, Mermaids, Nymphs, Selkies and Kelpies were derived. What first interested me about the “Neck” was how it crossed so many cultural lines at different times in history. In many instances, one culture would not know of the existence of the other and yet their descriptions matched in unison. What made me obsessed was when I found an incantation at scarcely known voodoo “shop” in New Orleans for what was described as the “Ameriken Neck.” One thing I’ve come to learn about Voodoo is that they normally do not catalog it down unless they believe it has worked on several people.

Having lived in New Orleans all my life, Catholicism, Voodoo, and Hoodoo is built into our local culture. It is what drove me to my passion to study myths, legends and the occult. The Voodoo institution here in New Orleans has accepted me as a scholar of their beliefs and has allowed me certain accesses normal folks would never imagine was real. Voodoo isn’t about the tourist traps you find in the French Quarter with scented candles and weird masks. No, this is a firm belief/religion based on a mesh of European Catholic, African, and Haitian beliefs and faiths. It is also a derivative of the some of the oldest recorded religions, dating back 10,000 years, from the earliest human civilizations in Africa.

It did not surprise me that I found a reference to the Neck here in New Orleans or in Voodoo in general. What did surprise me was that those who practice Voodoo believed that they could conjure up the spirit of a Neck and that they believed they could control it. What further surprised me was that I found it in a book that was over 300 years old in that old shop. Things this old normally are reserved for museums, but this book was lounging about wanting to be read. When I asked the shop owner where it came from he said it was found in the coffin of who he assumed was an old priestess. Her coffin was found washed out of her grave after Hurricane Camille in 1969. The owner recently found the old book stashed in his attic and decided to sell it.

Funny thing about New Orleans is that it is 10 feet below sea level so many of our dead are “buried” above ground. So when the water rose, so did the dead. This is surprisingly a common occurrence here. Amazingly, this book, leather bound and written on pages goat skin (a common practice in Africa and the Caribbean at the time) and palm leaves, was found so well preserved that I questioned the story. But that was before I noticed the water marks.

Water has always been the common denominator for the Neck. History has documented this fact. It also makes sense as to why the Neck would be sought out in Voodoo considering the geographic nature of the religion’s base (Caribbean, New Orleans). How the old priests and priestess came about the incantation and knowledge of the Neck I have never been able to find. I have looked for years. Like I mentioned before, this thing has been an obsession and those who practice voodoo love their catalogs, especially when their practices work.

And it has. It has worked on at least one person, Ann V. Lakedeaux, 25 years ago. She worked as a theology professor at a liberal arts college in New Orleans. 43, once divorced, with no children and a fantastic sense of humor matched only by her skepticism of all things occult, Ann would become my balance and my life. I would only repay her gifts to me with the responsibility of her death by the beak of the Neck.

Ann and I had been dating for a little over a year. I was just starting to translate the entry of the “Ameriken Neck” found in the old book of incantations I found earlier in the month. We were both in Baton Rouge for the weekend and over dinner one night I shared with Ann what I had found and being curious and skeptical she forced me share with her what I had found so far. This is all I had at the time:

The incantation as written in Haitian Creole:

“Lespri Bondye nan Neck a, tanpri naje avè m ‘. Naje ansanm avè m ‘jodi a, anba dlo, nan gwo twou san fon an, naje ansanm avè m’, jouk tan mwen dòmi.”

The incantation as translated from Haitian Creole to English:

“Spirit of the Neck, please swim with me. Swim with me today, under water, into the deep, swim with me until I sleep.”

Writer’s Note: To hear the incantation in English and Haitian Creole, go here:

The “Ameriken Neck,” as I translated from Haitian Creole to English is described as a “ghostly spirit whose body is that of a color-morphing, shape shifting giant squid with the ability to reflect a man’s face on its crown. Upon the completion of the second incantation, as prayer or spoken, the Neck will appear and show the reflection of the Asker’s face on its crown…”

This was as far as I had translated at the time and Ann was fascinated by it and eager to put it to the test, as she always was when she stumbled upon studies and theories of the occult. She insisted we go to our favorite lake for a late night swim. Ignoring my protests, she made an offer men my age usually never refuse, and so we went to False River, an oxbow river that is 25 miles northwest from Baton Rouge. Both of us being academics and drunk, we figured we needed goggles, an underwater flashlight, and waterproof camera so we could document the experiment and, of course, a couple floatation devices with drink holders, for safety.

So after strenuously blowing up our rafts, we floated out about 25 yards from the shore. Having explained to Ann that I have more respect for Voodoo than she apparently did, I regretfully told her that she would need to be the “bait” in the experiment. So she rolled off her raft and into the water, waterproof camera in hand. And then she recited the incantation, “Spirit of the Neck, please swim with me. Swim with me today, under water, into the deep, swim with me until I sleep,” Ann sung out in a mockingly dramatic tone. “See, I told you it was crap. I don’t see anything.”

I explained, “It says here you have to say it twice dear. You sure you want to do this. I mean what happens if it is real. You really want some giant squid swimming with you?”

“Don’t be an idiot. A squid, in these waters? A snake or an alligator, then yeah, you’d have me spooked. Actually, shit, aren’t there snakes and alligators around here?”

“Don’t change the subject now Ann! It is ok if you do not want to do this.”

With a wily smile, Ann finished her incantation, “Spirit of the Neck, please swim with me. Swim with me today, under water, into the deep, swim with me until I sleep.”

Ann suddenly felt like something swam by her feet and then felt little glances on her feet and ankles. Startled, she immediately grabbed her flashlight, goggles and camera. “Damn minnows! Scared me half to death!” she boisterously exclaimed. “Wait, I see something else.”

Ann was really quiet at first and then started to get visibly more nervous. I kept asking her what was wrong and what was she seeing, waiting on her answer to be another one of her famous belly laughs, enjoying the panic expression I know I had on my face. But she did not laugh. She kept describing a glowing in the water, a pulsating light, and took some pictures of it.

She then described how she thought whatever it was enjoyed the shine of her light and was playing with her. She started to take a few more pictures until it started to get closer to her. She called out both terrified and giddy, “It’s a big squid! Holy shit, it worked! I can even see my reflection!”

I was in disbelief, I just knew she was mocking me and then I started to get angry with her. But she was insistent on what she was seeing and told me to get in the water and look for myself. I do not know why it popped in my thoughts, but I sang the incantation back in my head, in a silly way like Ann did, “Spirit of the Neck, please swim with me. Swim with me today, under water, into the deep, swim with me until I sleep.”

“Bill, wait,” Ann’s tone dropped as she spoke, dunking her head in and out of the water every few words, “Bill, my reflection on its body…it is upside down…why is my reflection upside down?” I saw Ann snap a few more pictures then suddenly I saw two large tentacles rise up out of the water behind Ann. She was not aware of them but right after they emerge she starts screaming and kicking as though something was rising up to attack her from under of the water.

With great force, I saw Ann flip backwards. The feeding tentacles pounced down and ripped her from breast to back, leaving two bloody suspender marks where her bathing suit top once covered. She was being dragged under. I then saw a dozen or so more tentacles begin to grip around her body as she is flailing for me to pull her out of the water. I could not reach her from my raft and before I knew it, she was gone, pulled under. But not until I saw her reflection look at me, still superimposed, upside down on the crown of the squid.

I was petrified. I couldn’t move. I sat on the raft, calling out for her for 2 hours, hoping I would hear her cry out from the shore. I picked up the flashlight that floated near the raft, but only after building up the courage to do so 30 minutes after the attack. Avoiding the water became my priority. By the time the sun started to rise I had drifted to shore where I eventually found her camera. I went to the nearest phone and called the police to explain to them what happened, but I could not. They would never believe me. So I told them that she got dragged under by something, maybe an alligator, and I did not see her again. The search parties combed the shores and dredged the lake but found no signs of her. And only I found the camera.

After a week or so and after the funeral, the pictures from the underwater camera were finally developed. She took pictures of the Neck. Even though she did not get pictures of her reflections, she still snapped pictures of the demon playing with her. And she took pictures of it attacking her.

Writer’s Note: To view the last photos taken by the underwater camera used by Ann V. Lakedeaux before her disappearance, click the link below. These are the only known photo of the “Ameriken Neck” aka the “American Nix” or “American Nixie.”

The Neck became compulsion and psychosis for me soon after. I completed the translation of the incantation in the Voodoo spell book I found. The old book went on to say, “Upon completion of the third incantation (using the words “I sleep” for self sacrifice or “they sleep” if sending a curse), the reflection of the Asker or Cursed will be turned upside down revealing the true nature of the Neck and they will be pulled by the Neck’s serrated tentacles, drowned, and eaten by the beak of the Neck. The Neck will appear in any body of water at drowning depth and it can only be seen while it is in the water. It is important not to look upon it when its face is upside down as this will welcome death upon you, whether you are the Asker or the Cursed. The Neck is playful when not gazed upon, often giving you a floating sensation as you lay on your back looking up at the sky; or the sensation of fish nibbles on your feet; or the arrival of jellyfish dancing near you while you swim. But the Neck is always hungry, as it has always been, so do not gaze upon it when its smile is upside down.” To this day I regret not waiting on finishing the translation before sharing it with Ann. Deep down I knew it was dangerous to play around with such things without fully understanding them. It has been a great burden on me.

It has also destroyed my life. I’ve lived with this curse for more than 25 years and I have been living in perpetual fear of the silliest of things that I perceive to have too much water in or near them: toilets, large puddles, bathtubs, sinks, even large bowls of soup that I see on television cause my heart to skip a beat these days. I’ve sponge bathed only for over 20 years now and can only relieve myself in the woods behind my trailer. I have not been able to go near any large body of water; I’m petrified of going over bridges and will not step foot near a dock nevertheless a boat. This is no way to live for a boy who group up among the bayous.

I wish I can say that my Bathophobia (fear of depth) and Aquaphobia (fear of water) are just something I’ve created to make sense of my friend’s death in that lake so many years ago. I wish I can say that my phobias and my now reclusive life is my way of dealing with some guilt or remorse from that day. But I cannot…because the Neck has tried to kill me on many occasions. And I have the scars to prove it.

Writer’s Note: You can find my injuries from the Ameriken Neck at this link:

The last time I was visited by the Neck was 12 years ago to this day. It had tried to claim me several times up into this last visit long ago; but it was the last visit that left the worst scars and of all places it were to attack, it had to be the shower. That day it had been raining hard, off and on, for four hours straight. At the time I was still in my house in New Orleans (the last time I was physically there as well) and every time it rained hard the plumbing in the house would become congested and slow and on a few occasions backed up on me. I needed a shower. For several years, the shower was the only place I felt safe around water because it would never get to drowning depth. But on this day, the tub I was standing in did and I was not paying attention.

It happened so quickly. The water had reached past my calves and the Neck’s feeding tentacles reached behind and ripped through my back with its toothy suckers. As it pulled down on my skin, I slipped back and knocked my head against the wall and edge of the tub. Fighting against the wrapping of its tentacles and bleeding profusely from the back of my head, I fought to climb out of the tub, breaking my nose on the toilet nearby as I pulled myself out of the tub. I blacked out for a moment, only to be awaken by the searing pain generated from the heal of my foot being pecked off. When I awoke I found the Neck halfway out of the water, my foot in its grasp, its black beak pulling muscle and flesh from me, its extraordinarily large, human-like eyes staring at me and my face, upside-down, reflecting through on the crown of its pulsating and iridescent mantle that was two feet above its eyes. As I kicked and freed my foot, my flipped reflection spoke to me with an anger and frustration in its voice that rivaled that of a spoiled toddler being told no.

“Come swim with me! COME SWIM WITH ME!” I apparently said to myself, my face slanted downward like a cheap trick at a funhouse. After I dragged myself out of the bathroom, it slinked back into the water and disappeared.

Twelve years later, after exhaustive studying on how I could possibly trap or kill the Neck or run from it, I’ve come to the realization that this is indeed a “spirit” that travels multi-dimensionally. It is the only explanation as to why it could attack me in a tub or from my neighbor’s baby pool or from street draining grate. It’s the only explanation for the scars and why I have been unable to catch it. At the end I could only find one answer to the most important question to surviving the Neck, “How do you catch and kill a spirit?”

The answer is, “You don’t.”

And now I must apologize to the readers of this paper. Another thing I’ve learned about voodoo incantations and curses is that often they are transferable. But this is a very difficult task as it normally requires the curse to be taken on willingly by another by either hearing the incantation or by personally verbalizing or internalizing the incantation with the help of the cursed. If you have read this paper so far or listened to the incantation link, you have accepted my burden. Please forgive me for this treacherous act. I am old and can no longer live like this.

While there is no escape from the Neck, this was a solution; the only solution. I know that by giving this offering of readers to the Neck that it will lift me of my curse and allow me to live free again. I have paid my debt for Ann’s death and my soul longs for peace and the water. Please understand that this was my last resort. I am Catholic so suicide was never an option for me and even after this awful deed, my cursing of you, I can still be forgiven by our God through confession. And so hopefully the “Neck” will finally be off mine. Thank you for your sacrifice my friend.

I am deeply sorry.

Note: Want more information on the “Neck,” please visit:

by StupidDialUp


-*The following recordings are those by Mark Lewis, a man found dead in his apartment located in Los Angeles, California. All of the following audio has been transcribed directly (including background noises). Some may find the following disturbing.*

• Recording. 1# September 17th, 2009: 4:39 p.m PST
-Sharp static- -click- Hello, this is Mark Lewis. I live in the 66th room of the Villa Brasil Motel located in Los Angeles, California. I couldn’t of chose a crappier motel. I’m still paying off my student loans so this is sadly the only thing I could afford. I recently found these empty cassette tapes in the back of my closet. I think my mom might’ve given ‘em to me last Christmas. –Chuckles- She was always a cheap woman…. I can’t believe she is gone…sorry, I’m getting off-track. I have decided to start recording everything I do from this point forward. Some…things have been happening lately that I just can’t explain. I just have recently felt as if something was…watching me. I’m not sure how to explain it. I just feel like whenever I turn my back there are eyes burrowing into the back of my head. That’s not the only thing, though. I’ve been having these nightmares. Not just your average sort of nightmare where you fall off a cliff or something. They are all really disturbing, screwed up nightmares. I haven’t slept in days, the nightmares are just…-Sighing is heard- -click-

• Recording. 2# September 19th, 2009: 10:00 a.m PST
-click- I tried to sleep last night, just to see if the nightmares were gone considering I haven’t slept in a few days. Once again I had a nightmare…but this one was different than the others. There was this creature…or a man. I’m not really sure. Anyways, this thing was maybe eight or nine feet tall. It had bleach-white skin, arms way too long for its body, and these pitch black eyes. The worst part though was his mouth, or what was left of his mouth. It looked as if some of the flesh around his mouth had fused together to form a sort of muzzle. The whole dream was just it standing there over me…and I couldn’t move. It was as if I was tied down to something. I don’t know why the dream was so terrifying to me. It was just those eyes…those black empty eyes. It all seemed so real to me. I don’t think I’m going to sleep anymore. -Click-

• Recording. 3# September 23rd, 2009: 9:00 p.m PST
-Click- I…I saw something, well I think I might’ve. I’m really confused right now. So…I was just randomly flipping through the channels on the crappy little TV in my apartment. I think we only get seventeen channels so there isn’t much to choose from. -Coughing- Anyways, while I was watching TV, I felt that “someone’s watching me” feeling. I cautiously looked behind me, once again seeing nothing. About an hour later, I felt the feeling again. I turned around faster this time, to see if I could catch whatever might’ve been there. –Silent for a few moments- I saw it…. The thing from my dreams. It was just…standing there. Then…it just turned and walked away. I jumped up from my couch and quickly ran into my room. Not entirely sure why I ran…never was the smartest guy. Anyways, when I got in my room…it was gone. It didn’t even look like anyone was there. The window wasn’t even opened so it couldn’t have climbed in. I checked my entire room but still nothing. I…I’m really scared right now. –Ruffling is heard- god…. I need more pills. -Click-

• Recording. 4# September 25th, 2009: 7:39 p.m PST
-Click- I saw it again today…the damned thing. I was at work. I work at the local supermarket. I really hate my job; I barely get paid minimum wage. But I still have to pay back those loans and this was the only job I could get. So I was helping a customer bag her groceries, just a normal day, when I felt this sudden urge to look out the window. In fact, the whole day I had felt like something was watching me. I glanced out and it right there…right at the damn window. From what I can remember I dropped all of her groceries out of pure terror. No one else saw it, though…I’m not crazy. I know it’s real…I know it. -Click-

• Recording. 5# September 27th, 3:27 p.m PST
-Click- I didn’t go to work yesterday, I was too scared to leave my home. I was afraid I was going to see that…that “thing” again. I always feel like I’m being watched now, all the time. -Breathing-… I think it’s behind me.

• Recording. 6# October 1st, 10:37 p.m PST
-Click- I’ve been fired from my job. I haven’t left my house in days…I have been too scared to leave. I see it all the time now; everywhere I look…just standing there. Staring at me with those damn, empty eyes…. LEAVE ME ALONE YOU PIECE OF SHIT! -Bottle cracking from far away- -Click-

• Recording. 7# October 3rd, 3:28 p.m PST
-Click- I left my house today…I don’t know why. I only needed to go to the pharmacy for my pills…it followed me the whole damn time. I asked everyone if they saw it…-slight sobbing is heard- no one else saw it…it is there. I know it’s real…I’m not crazy…I’m NOT! -Sobbing is heard- -Click-

• Recording. 8# October 4th, 1:49 a.m PST
-Click- JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! –Sobbing is heard- GO AWAY! -Glass breaking is heard- -click-

• Recording. 9# October 6th, 3:37 p.m PST
-Click- I…I bought a gun today. Just a simple shotgun…nothing major. If that thing shows it face again…-cocking is heard- -click-

• Recording. 10# October 7th, 3:29 a.m PST
-Click- I’m not crazy…I’m not crazy…. –something solid is heard being poured-drinking is heard- -click-

• Recording. 11# October 8th, 12:01 p.m PST
-Click- I…I can’t handle this anymore. It won’t leave me alone…. -sobbing is heard- -cocking- It can’t kill me if I’m already dead…. I’m not going to let it get me. -Gunshot is heard- -a thud is heard- -sharp static-

*An autopsy done on the body of Mark Lewis found heavy doses of Amitriptyline in his blood. This is a antidepressant drug used for moderate to severe depression. Side effects include psychosis, increased depression, thoughts of suicide, and hallucinations.*

by phillybro10