Found among the effects of a former patient.
Date unknown.
Recovered by Dr. ---------

Dear reader,
This may be the last time that you shall be reading any of my correspondences. I fear that events have already begun to unfold that brought me to the very threshold of my sanity. Dear reader, what I am about to reveal may be too dreadful and horrifying for you. Continue at your own will.

It all happened at the tail-end of summer. The intense heat has not yet surrendered to the coming of the next season. It has been a habit of mine to have a tall glass of water ready at my bedside should I wake up thirst, but during that eventful night (day?), who would have thought that a break in my habit would spiral everything into the dark events that followed?

I awoke from a dreamless, yet serene, sleep. My head felt as if it were spinning when I opened my eyes. As it has also been my habit, I searched for my watch and checked the time: it was 3:00am. I tried to go back to sleep but couldn’t. Even though I tossed and turned, all my efforts seemed to be in vain. I laid on my back and relaxed my body. Hoping that it could remedy me, I stared blankly – almost listless - at the ceiling waiting for the stupor of sleep to return.

Slivers of pale moonlight reflected through the gaps between my curtains and began to cast long shapes in my room.

There were shapes familiar to me and shapes that have just now introduced itself to my senses. There was a long shadow that seemed to look like a bony hand with knotted fingers that looked as if it were clawing at my ceiling (as if it were a casket lid nailed tight). It was altogether bizarre and amusing. He wind was very still outside but I could have sworn that I heard its faint howling in the distance.
I was thirsty. I regretted not having that glass of water. The thought of needing to go to the kitchen for a cool drink somehow became a labourious task.

I tried to ignore my thirst but my need overwhelmed my will. I stood up from my bed, stepped out of my room and went to the kitchen.

It was unusually dark even with the pale glow of the streetlamps outside streaming through the thin curtains of the living room (which gave it a very ethereal look). I don’t know why, but I didn’t even bother turning on the light and just made my way to the refrigerator, half-blind.

Grabbing a glass from the counter I felt a chill down my spine. Dismissing it as something caused by my waking at this ungodly hour I made for the refrigerator. A flood of light spilled onto the floor as I opened the refrigerator door. I filled my glass and drank; the cool liquid coursing through me like an invigorating elixir. I had two glasses to drink so that I could be sure that I will no longer be roused until daybreak. I shut the door and darkness swallowed the entire kitchen.

The kitchen looked like – I assume – anyone else’s regular kitchen. A countertop, a small table to prepare food on, and some chairs. There was a window that gave a very limited view of the outside. Another chill crept through out my entire body as if frosty hands groped me. The shadows around the kitchen (with what faint light was there) began to take form; forms that I cannot even explain or understand. I stood in front of the refrigerator for what almost seemed to me an eternity, the empty glass still in my hand. Then, the stillness and silence of the room was broken by the sound of a chair being moved from its place. I heard breathing (or was it a voice?) from the direction where I heard a chair move. I now felt cold. Icy cold. I now knew that I wasn’t alone in that kitchen.

Unaware of what I was doing, I turned my head to the direction of where the table and chairs stood. There was a haze in my vision at first. But in a split-second, I saw what was with me in the kitchen.

My eyes met with eyes looking at me, as if peering through my very soul.
The eyes had a face, almost masculine, almost feminine. I wasn’t sure. But it looked at me. It smiled at me. It seemed to have a body sitting comfortably on the chair but it had no consistent form. It just looked as if it were shadows melding with each other, forming and reforming itself to be corporeal.

I stood still. Frozen from where I was. I tried to scream but I had no mouth. I tried to run but I had no legs. It seemed as if all I had were my eyes that locked to the (thing?). It stretched out its bony hand. Paper white, thin and knotted with cracked fingernails stained with earth and mud. It stretched long and grabbed my head. It sat there. Smiling. But I could feel its icy breath at the back of my neck. I felt myself shiver. No. Tremble.

Finally, those dreadful cracked lips began to move.

And in a very raspy, whispering voice it said:

“You…”

My senses began to return and I could feel every part of my body. My heart began to race and my chest slowly tightened as I fought for breath. It repeated those very same words, its meaning I could not undertand.

I tried to fight what was overwhelming me and opened my mouth to scream. Yet my voice was lost, for it was replaced by the high-shrilled shriek of that thing smiling at me.

My eyes lost sight. Something shattered and I fell on something cold.
I awoke the next day on the cold kitchen floor, shards of glass were scattered around. I stood up, though with much effort for my body felt weak. My memory, unfortunately, repainted the events that happened during that night (day?) in vivid detail. I began to feel the chill that the memory brought me and found no solace in the daylight.

I went back to my room, ignoring the mess of shards in the kitchen, hoping to clear my head with a nice morning bath. Surprisingly, I found my door shut.
I opened it and could not believe what I found as the door swung open. The floor was littered with dirt and formed shapes similar to human footprints and on my wall was written, in dirt, these very words:

“We shall see each other again…”

Dear reader, I pray that you could shed some light in this nightmare and I pray that you never go through this dreadful ordeal. Though my words may seem to the sane man a collection of absurdity, I only hope that someone out there will see what I have written here as truth of the impossible.
I will say no more except keep safe.

Your unfortunate friend,
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