Saturday, March 30, 2013

"This Story Could Save Your Life"


I was shocked to see another story from Charlotte Hamm posted today, but it seems she is becoming more active.  I immediately read it, given the ominous title, and wanted to share it with all of you as well.

This Story Could Save Your Life
I take the subway every night.  Sometimes it’s really late, too, since I work an odd-hour job, and my station isn’t home to many night owls.  As a result, I’m often one of only a few people around when I get off the train.
It was especially late a couple of nights ago when my train finally came grinding into the station, and I was really groggy from a tough shift.  Pushing past the few people still remaining on the train, I stepped off and was soon alone on the platform.  I glanced around; though I was used to arriving at a mostly cleared station, it had never been completely empty before.  The lights above me flickered.  Shrugging off the weirdness of being the only person around, I started for the stairs to the outside world.
I’d only gone a few feet when a sound behind me caught my attention.  It was almost like footsteps, but there was a noticeable “scratching”, too.  I immediate spun around, but, to my relief, only the blackness of the subway tunnel greeted me. 
Resuming my original plan to head home, I had almost reached the stairs when the sign pointing towards the restrooms caught my eye.  I really did need to go, and my apartment was still a ten minute walk away.  On the other hand, the station was exceptionally creepy tonight and I didn’t really want to be here any longer than necessary.  But was I really going to let my silly nerves get the best of me?  In the end, nature had called and I figured I should answer.
The restroom was just as empty as the station had been.  To my right, a sink had been left running for who knows how long.  I turned it off before heading into one of the stalls.
By now I had managed to subdue my wild imagination.  It seemed pretty ridiculous for a grown person to be afraid to use the restroom, after all.  Above me the lights flickered again, though I paid them little notice.  Laughing out loud at my own childishness, I reached for the tissue. 
Suddenly the unmistakable sound of a door opening filled the restroom.  Someone else was apparently here.  I resisted the urge to call out; it was likely another train rider who’d be more freaked out by being greeted from someone in a stall than I was.  A moment later, I was glad I hadn’t.
The scratching sound was actually the first thing I heard, though it was soon followed by the familiar footsteps I had encountered on the platform.  They echoed off the tile floor as whatever was out there seemed to shamble into the restroom.  My blood running cold, I sat quietly, unable to even blink.
Outside the stall, the “thing” would take a couple of steps and then pause to emit a sort of rasping noise.  I swear it sounded as if it was smelling the air, looking for something.  The most logical answer, of course, was me.  All this time, though, I fought the urge to scream or bolt from the stall.
Eventually it stopped and stood still for what seemed like an eternity.  In fact, I could almost have convinced myself it was gone, but for lingering “sense” of it being too great.  It did finally begin to move again, and upon doing so, seemed to focus in on my stall!
Transfixed, I could only listen in horror as it grew closer to my very vulnerable position.  It wasn’t until it began scratching on the door of my stall that I almost lost it and screamed.  The sound, however, caught in my throat.  Now I look back on it and think this may have saved my life.
The thing was now clawing and pounding at the door, seemingly aware I was inside but unable to do anything about it.  I could hear its raspy breath and growing frustration as the entire stall began to shake from the assault.  Just as its rage seemed to reach a fever pitch, though, and I was sure the door would give way, it suddenly stopped.  It took a good minute for me to snap back to reality, but, when I did, there was only silence waiting on me.  I noticed my arm was still outstretched from where I’d begun to reach for the tissue.  I apparently hadn’t moved an inch during the entire ordeal.
Though it was difficult, I eventually summoned up the courage to get up and out of the restroom.  The vibe I’d gotten from the thing was gone now, which helped.  Luckily, I didn’t experience anything unusual as I literally ran out of the restroom and up the stairs.  Bursting from the subway and onto the street, I was grateful to see the surprised faces of a young couple walking by the station entrance.  I’m sure they thought I was crazy, but that didn’t really matter; I had made it out and now everything was back to normal.
Or so I thought.
I’ve spent the last two days thinking about that night, and I can’t make any sense of it.  There’ve been no reports of anything strange happening at the subway station, but there were a few unexplained disappearances mentioned on the news.  One such case involved a man I know I’ve seen once or twice on the train.  I couldn’t have been the only person to encounter the thing and get away, right? 
I’ve actually gone back once—during the day, when plenty of people are there—to try and sort it all out in my mind and maybe find someone else doing the same.  Everyone else, though, seemed to be going about their business, quite oblivious to the person skulking about looking for “clues”.  I’m not even exactly sure what I expected to find.  The thing didn’t leave footprints or something like that, if, in fact, it truly had feet.  I definitely don’t remember seeing anything at all through the slim openings around the stall’s doors. 
However, it’s what began happening last night that truly has me worried.  Afraid to leave my apartment, I called in sick to work before bolting every lock on my door.  I’m used to sleeping during the day, so my body wouldn’t let me rest, and I instead camped out in my living room to watch TV. 
It was around midnight when the lights flickered for the first time.  This made me uneasy, but I reminded myself that I was at home, behind a barricaded front door.  Eventually I did doze off, despite a few more uneasy moments, finally waking as the sun was coming up.  But it didn’t stop there.  All throughout today I’ve noticed odd things that leave me with goose bumps, such as unexplained sounds, fleeting glimpses of something unrecognizable in mirrors, and the same, pervading sense I had in that stall.  I think whatever it was I escaped down in the subway has found me.
As the day wears on, I’m terrified of what might happen tonight.  I’ve made plans to stay out as much as possible over the next few days, but I’m not sure that makes any difference.  I’m also aware that I might be placing other people in danger by simply being around them after dark.
So, here it is, the point of my story.  I won’t be giving you names of the places where I’ll be, the times I’ll be there, or even my real name, but if you’re out late over the next few nights, and the lights flicker, leave.  If you feel an overwhelming, evil presence, don’t ignore it.  If you hear strange footsteps or other, unexplained sounds, get up and get out of wherever you are.  Run and don’t look back. 
I won’t, and I’ll likely have a head start.
This one is more than a little frightening to me. Though the title provided what turned out to be unwarranted hope of some explicit directions, she does seem to be telling me something here.  It appears she is aware of the person stalking me and how he seems to be getting closer.  Her advice, apparently, is to run whenever I feel his presence.  Perhaps she knows more about his nature than I had imagined.

I am also bothered by the monster in this one.  The deliberate movements, scratching, and stalking are all very similar to what she's already written about.  It also conjures of images of long-armed fiends, their hands grinding against the ground as they walk.  Very unnerving.

Please feel free to post your own impressions of the story and what it might mean.

Until next time...