Last-night I discovered something very disturbing about myself. I either I have a serious sleepwalking problem or I'm being possessed. I don't really believe in possession so it must be a sleeping disorder. The weird thing about it is I know it stems from what I'm drawing and I also know full well I'm going to draw it again tonight. I can't help myself. I'm compelled to. Whatever the outcome good or bad I'm still going to do it because I can't stop. After a week or so the seriousness of the situation wears off until it just becomes a curiosity.
~~~~~
The next few weeks are pretty uneventful. On a Saturday I ask my mom if she can take me to the store to get a new art pad. I finished the old one off the night before, it was so frustrating not being able to draw "her". I almost started drawing on notebook paper, but I couldn't bare the thought of the blue lines going through her.
We get back from the art store around 3 pm, I go right to my room and start drawing. I bought some charcoal this time to see if I could add more depth to my drawings.
Before I know it, it's 8 pm, getting dark, and I've already finished the first page. The demon almost looks sad in this picture. She's nude as usual but solemn. Most of my other pics of her she's making a very seductive expression. Don't get me wrong, she's sexy as hell even sad. I get hard every time I draw her and I bet I've masturbated 4 or 5 times a day since the first picture. Haven't had no more wet dreams or woke up thinking someone was wrapped around me since last month.
School hasn't been too bad. No run-ins with Autumn. I've seen her a few times from far away, but no eye contact; so no trouble. I can't believe I have to avoid her. Bitch.
I'm about halfway through this art pad now. Going at this rate I'll be finishing one a week.
~~~~~
I've walked down this road a thousand times and I've never seen that. It's got to be new, but when would they have built it? I go through here nearly every day and saw no construction. Where the old oak tree had been chopped down when I was a kid, there is a black object attached to the old stump. Short in the front and tall in the back, with a rounded hole in the middle. Nobody around right now, I step off the road, into the grass. No sign of tools or equipment....wait a minute. The closer I get to this thing, it doesn't even look man made. It looks like it grew out of the stump. Instead of a hard synthetic surface like I thought before, getting a closer look, it seems organic, but it's black. Short nubs that might be the beginnings of limbs growing in random areas. I walk around it again to examine the opening. The only part of the whole thing that isn't smooth. It's actually quite bumpy. Like an idiot I reach in to touch it to see what it feels like. When my hand makes contact something sighs and the surface moves from within, scaring the shit out of me.
It sounded feminine but..... "Jon, touch me again. Pull me from this stupor." It was so faint, I'm not sure If I even heard or imagined it.
I'm freaking out now. "Did you.....is there somebody in there?"
"I need you to touch me again. I can't seem to wake up"
I start to back off.
"No, please help me. I just need you to wake me up. Please. I promise I wont hurt you. I couldn't if I wanted to. I'm too weak and you mean so much to me."
Weighing my choices something compels me to help. Curiosity for one, but something else altogether. Something familiar. I'm such a dumb-ass. I reach into the large hole and touch what feels like slimy snakes but different; more animated than alive. Trailing my hand upwards where they converge my finger enters an opening.
"Ahhhhhh" the voice whispers.
The mass shudders. The hole is wet, hot, and tightens around my finger as I try to pull it out. The suction is powerful; the more I pull the stronger it becomes and instead pulls me in further up to the wrist. There's moments when it seems to weaken and I can almost get my hand out, then the suction amps up again, sucking me in further. My arm is buried almost to mid-forearm now. I'm starting to panic. It's taking all my strength to remain stationary and I'm already so tired, my legs are shaking. An occasional car drives by on the road behind me, but my yells are unheard or ignored. I hope this thing doesn't try to pull me all the way in or even worse; there's something down in there waiting to maul me.
The worst things run through my mind as my energy and strength falter. With one last show of strength I yank with everything I've got. I free my hand to the first knuckle then get sucked back in. We repeat this several times as the voice starts moaning and the opening leaks a whitish, semi-opaque liquid. Putting both my feet up on the mass, my arm gets sucked in passed my elbow. I yank one more time with all I've got and finally free myself, flying through the air from the inertia of the release, a long string of the liquid connected to my hand from the opening. The mass shakes violently, the nubs thrashing, as the voice from within screams "YES, YES, YES........" over and over again until everything settles down. The object quits moving and the voice is silent.
My head still spinning, I sit upright and look at my hand. Other than it tingling and being covered in a slippery liquid, everything seems.....wait a minute, I have about fifteen or sixteen tiny puncture marks spread all over the part that was sucked in. Already black veins are showing from each puncture leading up the arm. It feels like an itching, almost as if tiny ants were crawling under my skin towards my heart. When they reach it, my vision goes blurry, and my heart grows cold, really cold. Feels like it's cracking and stops.....I fall over. My head hitting the ground a second time, but this time I'm greeted with blackness.
When I wake, the first thing I think of is I'm not dead. Then I think it must have been a dream but no, I still have the marks on my arms, although they've healed to scabs now. The clear liquid is gone, but the weird tree is still there, except it isn't weird anymore, just looks like an old dead tree now, sitting totally still.
I get up, brush myself off and head to the road leading home. The heat is really brutal and it seems worse since the incident, like my pores have closed up and I can't sweat, even though I'm covered in it.
The same phrase keeps repeating in my mind, "If you want to see me, look into the dark."
My head is pounding, like it has a heartbeat of it's own. It's excruciating. I just need to lay down, get out of the heat. Damn, I hope mom has the air on today. It's so fucking hot. My stomach cramps and I dry-heave. The back of my throat taste like ink or poison. A convulsion hits, knocking me forward onto the hot asphalt, burning my cheek. I get up with, a stream of spit stretching from my lip to the road. Barely standing, head still exploding, I'm not going to make it home. Barely making it to the side of the road I fall again, this time face first in the dirt. It actually feels good. I'm blacking out. Anything would be better than this pain....I'm just going to take a nap for a moment, then I'll be okay.
