Ages 5-8
It's always hard to answer the question, "When did you first start seeing it?" Can't say. Don't know. I started to think that he was always there, and that changes the question. Not "when?" because it was always. Instead, it's "When were you old enough to know that there was something wrong?"
But that's not true. Can't think like that. Won't.
But that's not true. Can't think like that. Won't.
The I really remember seeing him was during daycare. Mom was working part time, dad was working full-time. She was a nurse back then. Really liked it, but was always tired.
The daycare was pretty nice. This little, brick building. Lots of toys, playground out back. I was on the monkey bars. My favorite, when I was little. Used to be able to do flips off of them.
Before I saw it, I felt it. I was cold, even though it was one of those warm days in fall that clings to the ghost of summer. But not just cold. Not like swimming in a freezing pond or being dunked in snow. Cold like being buried under permafrost while your head fills with white static.
I turned my head and saw someone watching me from the bushes. Thought it was a man, though not like any man I'd ever seen. Long arms. Long legs. No face. Not just nondescript but without features. Not even wrinkles on his forehead. Like he'd been sanded smooth.
The daycare attendant called us in and when I looked back he was gone. Definitely he. Male energy, even without a face.
I started school and I saw him more and more. I'd see him standing on the sidewalk and at the end of the aisle at the grocery store. I'd even see him staring at me out of windows . . . when my classroom was on the second floor.
Maybe I mentioned him to my parents, can't remember, but that was still the age of imaginary friends. How could they know? But even without asking them, I started to fear him. I started to dread going anywhere. Backed out of playdates. Pretended me and my friends had a fight. Never wanted to go to the park that was only a few blocks from our house. Pretended I was allergic to grass for a while.
Through it all, the only real friend I had was Buggy. A brown stuffed bunny with two yellow, plastic eyes. Got the name because I thought "bunny" was pronounced "buggy." Dragged him around so much he started to get threadbare. Fur full of dirt. Mom must have washed that thing more often than me.
Soon, I refused to leave the house unless I was forced to. Not that I didn't see him at home, but he never came inside the house. Always outside the sliding glass door. Never moving, but always staring. Staring though he didn't have any eyes.
Things got worse and worse for me. I had nightmares where the river behind the park swelled and swept away the town. Started to wet the bed every night. Had accidents even during the day. Parents didn't know what was wrong. Took me to the school therapist. She said I had control issues. Might have been right though not for the reason she thought.
At home, I started to have more problems. Refused to eat. Never wanted to sleep. Didn't want my parents out of the room. Freaked out if I lost Buggy, even for for a second. My poor sister got jealous because I got all the attention. She was only five at the time, didn't understand much. And my parents, oh god, my parents. They were so scared. Couldn't figure out what was going on.
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. That's why, the summer after I turned eight, I decided to run away from home. Packed up this little, red suitcase my grandmother had given me for my birthday one year. The contents are almost funny now. Little girl, little thoughts. I brought a fuzzy green blanket my aunt had knitted for me, an extra sweater (black with kittens on the front), a length of rope and a pocket knife both given to me by my uncle (who said that there was no situation where rope and a pocket knife didn't come in handy) a wooden hand mirror with lilies around the edge, a pear, a hunk of cheese, and, of course, my faithful Buggy.
In the middle of the day, when my parents had company over, I moved. I snuck downstairs, went through the garage, grabbed a flashlight, and headed off down the street. At the time I headed for the forest behind the park. It was the only place I knew to run.
I didn't know. I was so young, how could I?
As I walked down the street my suitcase clunked. The hand mirror against the knife against blanket against the cheese and the pear against the rope and the kitten sweater and all of it against Buggy. Stowed away. My stuffed moral support. The sun was just starting to set and my parents must not have noticed I was gone since no one came tearing after me.
The hand mirror may seem like an odd choice, but it was a system I'd devised. Using it to sweep corners, to look into rooms before I entered. If I walked into a room and then left, he might show up in the window of the next room. But if I never entered it, he wouldn't follow me.
It wasn't long before I got to the woods. Walked in for about three minutes. Figured it would be enough. Found a good sturdy tree with a lot of low branches and sat at its base. It was starting to get cold, even though it was summer, so I put on the sweater and draped the blanket across the branch that was above me. Then I took out Buggy, the pocket knife, and the mirror, and tied the suitcase to the branch with the rope.
I sat there, clutching Buggy under one arm and holding the knife with the other. Left the flashlight balanced on my lap. Took out the pear and cheese when I got hungry. Waited. Waited and waited and waited. Don't know what I thought I could do.
Before long it was so dark I could see anything. Held the flashlight steady and tried to keep alert, but I was getting tired. My eyes drooped and I hadn't seen the creature at all night. So I clutched Buggy tight to my chest, closed my eyes, and fell asleep.
Woke up later. Suddenly. Frightened. Could hear the sound of breaking twigs. Sound of someone crunching through the brush. For a second, thought it was my parents, but the steps were slow and paced. Too slow for a normal person.
I reached for my flashlight, but it didn't turn on. Blinking in the dark, I stood up, clutching Buggy and the knife, waiting for my eyes to adjust. When they did, all I could see was trees. The steps got faster and closer.
"Hello?" I said. No one answered.
It got closer and closer. Couldn't run. Nowhere to run. Trees all around. Just clutched my knife, holding it out at arms length. Soon it felt like the thing was almost on top of me. I retreated behind the blanket, not daring to look.
"I have a knife!" I yelled, thinking it would scare someone off. The footsteps stopped for a moment and there was a huge intake of breath. Too big to be human. Like a moose. Like a grizzly. But breath mixed with static. Breath that made my mind go fuzzy.
It was in front of me. I couldn't look. Forgot my knife, forgot everything. Curled up, hands over my head. Too scared to speak. Silence. Silence.
For a second, nothing happened. I opened my eyes and saw the shadow of something tall cast across my little tent. Then something grabbed the blanket, pulling it away from me. I screamed, clutching Buggy ever tighter.
And then . . . nothing. Darkness.
Remember yelling. Remember screaming and screaming until I couldn't stop. Remember something big, staring down on top of me. Must have been the tops of trees, but it looked like a tangled, black mass of limbs.
A big pale face, drifting right in front of me.
Then I was standing. I was standing a few feet away from the tree, still holding the knife. There were people around me with flashlights and I didn't remember where they came from. My mom was kneeling in front of me, shaking me, asking me if I recognized her.
I instinctively clutched at Buggy, trying to pull him closer, but he wasn't there. For the first time, I looked down at my hands and saw that they were full of blood.
Buggy, where was Buggy?
I looked back and where the tree was and saw something that would haunt me for years to come. Buggy was strung up in the top branches of the tree. One of his ears torn off, his fur streaked with blood. Both of his eyes cut out and in their place someone had smeared two red X's.
It was first time I came face to face with the destructive power that was linked to the creature. Buggy was the first casualty of my madness. The first to fall pray to this terrible thing inside of me.
And, god help me, he was not the last.
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