The One Who Comes From the Darkness

**MONDAY**

I had a nightmare. In anticipation of school, I went to bed early, but in the middle of the night, I woke up with a strange sensation. I dreamt that I was underwater and struggling to breathe because something was pressing down on me. Gradually, I realized I was waking up, but the feeling of heaviness didn’t go away. It felt like something was lying on my chest. I suddenly sat up in bed, and only then could I take a full breath. When I lay down again, the heaviness didn’t return.

**TUESDAY**

In the evening, I stayed home alone and was making entries in my diary, listening to music in my headphones as usual. The volume was high enough to drown out outside noises, but after a couple of minutes, I realized something was distracting me. Footsteps, a light creak of the floorboards. I took out my headphones and listened — a final quiet creak, and then silence. I would have assumed it was coming from the neighboring apartments, but I know the building’s acoustics well — sounds from the neighbors only carry when they speak loudly or move pans around (which is rare). So the footsteps I heard must have come from an empty neighboring room…

**WEDNESDAY**

Looking back, I think I should have taken this more seriously earlier. Lost in my daily routines, I didn’t notice the strange things happening around me. And if I had noticed… oh, I should have noticed…

That night, I had another nightmare — this time starring myself. It felt as if I were cursed, and everywhere I went, I could feel consuming fire, eventually burning me completely. When I jolted awake, I trembled for a long time. My parents had already left for work, so I gradually calmed down and went to the bathroom. I stood under the shower and turned on the cold water. A second later, it would have scalded me if I hadn’t jumped aside. Steam poured from the cold faucet, and actual boiling water ran. I turned the hot water tap — the same thing. It was as if cold water didn’t exist at all. I remembered the dream, and my teeth involuntarily started chattering. After an hour, both taps were still shooting scalding water. When my mom came home, I told her about the strange behavior of the water. Naturally, she decided to check, opened the cold tap, and… cold water really came out. Not just cold — ice-cold. I closed and opened both taps myself — everything returned to normal. Assuming it was just the pipes changing temperature, I went back to the shower. But as soon as I turned on the cold water again, boiling water gushed out. Angry and frightened, I ran to check the kitchen tap. Cold. Ice-cold. My mom looked at me strangely and asked if I was okay.

This incident completely threw me off. I waited until my parents went to bed, then locked myself in my room, putting on headphones. Close to one in the morning, the sound of footsteps came again from the neighboring room. At first, I thought one of my parents had gone to the bathroom, but the creaking grew louder, coming closer to my room. As if someone were standing at the door. My nerves couldn’t take it; I quickly got up and opened the door. No one. The parents’ bedroom was silent, so they were both asleep. Closing the door again, I sat at the computer and continued studying. But the strange sense of discomfort prevented me from concentrating. I shut the laptop, turned off the light, and went to bed.

Around three in the morning, I woke from my own scream. I had dreamed something so terrifying that I had to reach for the light switch by touch, and only when the light came on could I start thinking clearly. Strangely, I couldn’t recall the dream at all, but when I lay down again, I couldn’t bring myself to turn off the light. The first time in my life.

**THURSDAY**

I didn’t go to school, claiming I wasn’t feeling well. When my parents left for work, I went to the bathroom and stood under the shower. My fears about the water behavior faded as the warm streams ran smoothly over my skin. I stood for a minute or two, relaxing after a half-sleepless night. In the morning, everything that had happened seemed like a bad dream. Suddenly, the lamp started flickering — at first barely noticeable, then more obviously fading. I felt a rush of chilling fear and quickly left the shower, wrapping myself in a towel. Just as I nearly ran out of the bathroom, the bulb went out completely.

The day passed in a haze. Even in sunlight, I flinched at every rustle and sound. Once I nearly screamed when a truck suddenly started outside the window. Music, which usually calmed me, irritated me. Food made me nauseous, and my overall state was close to hysterical. Exhausted and frazzled, I lay down on the couch for a minute and immediately fell asleep. When I opened my eyes, the room was already dark. Almost unconsciously, I got up and went to the light switch, and only when the yellow electric light filled the room could I breathe calmly.

At night, I sat and tried to analyze everything that had happened during that time. Most of the strange occurrences happened between midnight and three a.m., and closer to three, “it” — whatever that was — became more active.

I started counting the minutes, afraid I might hear something or… no, even thinking that was terrifying. My parents were asleep in the next room, and I decided that tomorrow I would definitely tell them what was happening. If the idea of seeing a therapist had scared me before, now, in light of these events, it seemed like the only possible salvation. Around half past two, despite loud music in my headphones, I started to fall asleep at my desk. I rested my head on my hands and closed my eyes, slipping quietly into sleep. When I woke, the clock on my laptop monitor showed three a.m. Then the desk lamp bulb exploded with a loud crack. I screamed in fright and felt my heart racing. Almost at the edge of panic, I kept repeating to myself: “Pull yourself together. You’re a rational person and can handle your fear.” I closed my eyes, clenched my fists, and slowly counted to five aloud. Panic gradually receded, but the feeling that I was not alone in the room only grew. I covered my ears with my hands, afraid I would lose my mind if I heard any sound nearby. I sat like that for an unknown amount of time, knees pulled to my chest, quietly rocking back and forth on the chair.

**FRIDAY**

I woke up on the floor of my room. Apparently, I had fallen asleep in the same position I had been sitting in, so I didn’t notice sliding off the chair. The curtains were drawn, so it seemed like it was still dark. Strangely, I didn’t want to see sunlight at all. The fear had passed, and I sat, holding my head in my hands, trying to figure out what to do next. First, I couldn’t tell my parents. Even if they thought I was crazy and sent me to a therapist, and then to a hospital, it would only make things worse. Darkness would still come, and facing it with tied hands and total helplessness is far scarier… Second, the idea occurred to me to look up similar cases online. Whatever this was, it had probably happened to others. Perhaps someone knew how to deal with it.

The search results scared me more than I expected. Every article describing situations similar to mine called it “possession,” claiming it was ultimately impossible to fight. There were also cases where exorcists intervened to expel the “devil from the possessed body,” but in both cases the outcome was fatal. Though in my case, many details didn’t match — I didn’t feel someone constantly present, except in the dark, didn’t lose my appetite, didn’t faint — it was still oppressive. Moreover, from the moment I woke up, I had a strange feeling that everything was about to end. The thought didn’t bring comfort, just a sense of inevitability. Eventually, something had to happen, because no matter how long it lasted, I knew I could never get used to constant fear.

The rest of the day passed in dark contemplation. Sometimes I caught myself deliberately avoiding unlit corners of the apartment. I felt someone watching me from there. Even the return of my parents didn’t relieve the feeling. In their presence, I felt calmer, but I knew that as soon as I returned to my room and lay down, it would start again…

At 11:15 p.m., my parents wished me good night and went to their bedroom. I left the desk lamp on in the living room and sat on the couch with a book. I couldn’t concentrate, every nerve in my body was tense, and my hearing reacted sharply to every sound. Eventually, I slammed the book shut and went to my room. I turned off the light, quickly crawled under the blanket, and closed my eyes, hoping to fall asleep before midnight. Perhaps because I hadn’t slept properly all week, or because I felt relatively safe until the “dangerous time,” as I had started calling it, sleep didn’t take long.

And suddenly, as if right above my head, a loud, whistling whisper sounded. I woke instantly, leapt out from under the blanket, and looked around. That short sound gave me goosebumps… no human throat could have made it. I tried to reproduce it, but it was impossible to sound even remotely similar, though it echoed clearly in my memory. Saying that it scared me is an understatement. It’s one thing to feel something nearby, another when “it” announces its presence. And that is truly terrifying. I lay with open eyes, staring at the ceiling, counting the minutes. Because the curtains weren’t drawn for the night, moonlight fell through the windows, casting a strange play of shadows on the ceiling. I was afraid to move, afraid even to turn my head… the only thing I could do was silently repeat the lyrics of all my favorite songs. For some reason, this always calmed me and restored my ability to think. This time, I almost convinced myself that the whisper was only in my imagination, when suddenly the moonlight refracted strangely, and distorted facial features of some creature appeared on the ceiling. I saw it so clearly that I screamed, losing all sense of self. Even when I blinked the next second and the vision faded, I kept screaming until my terrified parents came running.

For a long five minutes, I tried to calm down. Sitting under the bright light, feeling my mother’s hand stroking me gently and holding my father’s hand with the other, I almost told them what had happened. But their care and concern made me bite my tongue. Whatever it was, it was after me, and I didn’t want my parents to become vulnerable too. I told them I had a nightmare and nodded at their reassuring words, but I remembered that face again and shivered involuntarily. The image had etched itself so deeply in my memory that even closing my eyes and falling asleep in my mother’s arms, I could not shake the vision of that terrifying image.

**SATURDAY**

That’s almost all. The time is 2:55 a.m. I have just over four minutes left. I am frightened by the strange certainty that tonight it will end, but I can no longer even think about what is happening. Just now, something cracked in the neighboring room. Judging by the dark line at the bottom of my door, the last bulb exploded. With my parents away on night duty, I had turned on all the lights in the apartment. At midnight the corridor light went out, now this. I am just sitting here and writing because I have no other choice. Tonight I removed the only mirror in my room and put it in the closet. I drew the curtains, turned on the main light and the desk lamp. An hour ago the chandelier began to flicker, then went out. Now the desk lamp is starting to flicker. I am sure it will go out in a minute. I locked my door tightly, but I can already feel that it doesn’t matter. It’s here.

2:58 a.m. The sound is approaching. God, I feel it standing behind me. I cannot turn around. The lamp has gone out completely, leaving only the faint light of the monitor.

2:59 a.m. I cannot… write. Something is about to happen.

I am terrified.