Horror Stories.

28.

“Doctor Tabitha Lebarr, recording the story given to us during the psychiatric evaluation of David Shore, May 15th, 2016. Patient was admitted for treatment of what appeared to be an attempt to amputate his legs. It is worth noting that Shore is himself a psychologist, but appears to be currently in poor mental health.” There was a moment of static on the tape, and the woman’s voice continued. “Tell it to me from the beginning, Doctor Shore.”

He began:

“You know that feeling you get, when you feel as though you’re being watched? Of course you do, we’ve all felt it. We feel it more as children, and of course, when we’re already frightened of something. It makes sense to me now; it’s so simple. It’s leftover survival instinct. That, Doctor Lebarr, is the beginning. See, about a week ago, I came across a website for short horror stories, and it inspired me to do a case study on myself regarding the effects of fear. Fear is a fascinating thing, isn’t it? I read several stories until I came across one that really gave me the creeps, and the study began. I documented the basic things; loud noises that my cat was making pushed an immediate adrenal response, even though I knew where the sound was coming from. A hyper awareness of my surroundings was persistent and expected. I couldn’t help but scan the dark hallway outside my bedroom repeatedly, and the tapping from the vents in the ceiling seemed louder than they have ever been, and much more obtrusive. These are all expected results of fear and nothing particularly interesting.

“However, as I was winding down, I saw, in the dim light cast against the stairwell visible from my desk, a shadow pass from something apparently out of sight, presumably blocked by the wall ahead of me. As my cat, Gir, was in my lap, this was obviously a manifestation of my frightened mind, as nothing could have been there to produce the fleeting shade. I jotted down that it was interesting that my mind, winding down from fear, appeared to be trying to keep me in the hyper-aware and agitated state, by creating apparitions. Then it got stranger.

“I had noticed Gir’s ears perk up suddenly when I had seen the shadow but hadn’t thought anything of it. A moment later, Gir sat up very abruptly, obviously alarmed. Gir then looked directly at where the shadow had been; then into my eyes; then to that spot on the stairwell again, then to my eyes again, over and over about a dozen times, very quickly. As concern mounted and I was about to get up to investigate, as he has never acted in this manner, he jumped down and ran to the very spot in the hall where the apparition making the shadow would have had to have been standing. He then ran into the laundry room, his ‘safe place’ in the house, where he remained for about an hour until I went to bed.

“It was bizarre, but perhaps Gir just acted oddly because he sensed my fear. I decided to sleep on it. Anyway, that was my last personal entry as a psychologist. Funny, isn’t it? How something so simple can become so terrible. The night after, when I got home, Gir was still acting strangely. I decided to keep an eye on him, and again sat down to read some creepy stories. As I was reading, I heard a strange noise coming from the hall. It was the pat of heavy feet on carpet, and growling. At first I assumed it to be my frightened mind twisting noise Gir might make, but when I turned I saw that he was safely asleep on my bed. I carefully reached to my bed stand, wherein I had a hunting knife for security, and I brought it with me to investigate the hallway. Atop the stand was a picture of me and my good friend Jen, goofily waving at the camera. Looking at that made me feel a little better, and I was off to the hallway with my knife. The blasted light switch was on the other end of the hall, of course, so I let my eyes focus a moment. Just as my vision was adjusting, I saw a shadow bolt down the stairs. Air caught in my throat, and I lunged forward to the light switch, but whatever it was had gone.

“The following day went by fairly normally. Someone had placed a picture of a wolf where my face should have been on the placards indicating where each doctor was located, and there was trouble finding the old picture file again, so I had my photo taken and that was settled. It was odd, but was all that was unusual that day. Actually, I had gotten the pretty girl at the coffee counters number that day, and was walking on air by the time I headed home. I had completely forgotten about the incident of the night before. That is, until I opened my front door. Nothing was out of place, per se; but something was off about it. It smelled strange in there, the air was oddly warm and sticky. I had a strange feeling that the house was breathing, and the deep, nagging feeling that something was watching me. It was as though the whole place was plotting against me. I kicked on the AC unit, put it out of my mind and went about my business.