Something’s Been Terrorizing Me At Night And I Think It’s Time I Confronted It


A brief note about the story below:

There is a very real possibility that what I’m about to show you will get me arrested. The joke’s on them though, because I’d be far safer in prison than I am out here right now.

See, about a year ago, I had been interning at the local D.A.’s office, where I was privy to one of the most bizarre homicides people around the office had ever claimed to see. The case would never go to trial because the suspected perpetrator had killed himself immediately after committing the murder.

Still, it’s the District Attorney’s job to square away the details of such a crime, regardless of whether there was a living defendant to try or not. As the assistant D.A. and my boss at the time liked to say, “The I’s and T’s of Justice did not dot and cross themselves.”

The evidence folder which it was part of my job to process (and which I ended up reading, cover-to-cover), was full of print-outs containing the suspect’s most resent Reddit posts; the last of which had been submitted to the site mere minutes before he’d offed himself.

I’ve since moved on to greener pastures, but I never quite got over that one case and I figured the only way that I would was to put the whole thing out there once and for all, for better or worse (SPOILER ALERT: It was worse.)

Below are the final posts of [IDENTITY OMITTED].


I know it’s a total cliché but I should probably start at the beginning. Me and my fiancée Lisa have been going through a bit of a rough patch. How rough? Well, our most recent round of “Who Can Blame More on the Other” concluded with me having to crash at my buddy Ethan’s place for an unspecified period of time and that’s what I got for WINNING, so…

Bless his heart because Ethan really tried to make the best of it that first night. We stayed up late getting high and watching horror movies just like the good old days. Ethan eventually stumbled off to bed at a little after 1:00am, but we both had work the next day so I decided to try and do the same.

In the grand tradition of devout bachelors before him, Ethan was still using his college futon as a couch, so I was in luck there. Grabbing the pillow and Ultimate Spider-Man comforter Ethan had provided, I made my sad little “wayward boyfriend” bed on the reclined futon and slowly climbed under the blanket. As my head hit the pillow, I yawned and turned off the movie but then the silence and the darkness brought thoughts of Lisa and the ridiculous argument we’d had earlier that day and eventually I had to switch the TV back on, lowering the volume so that it was just loud enough to drown out the memories.

As I was finally starting to fall asleep, I heard what sounded like scratching at the front door of Ethan’s apartment. I muted the TV as the scratching continued, accompanied by a faint huffing sound like when a dog gets excited while smelling something. Figuring that “Buba” the neighbor’s golden retriever had gotten loose, I climbed out of bed and started towards the door.

I turned the deadbolt, which unlocked with a loud metallic CLUNK, and the scratching abruptly stopped. I froze with my hand on the knob as a large silhouette suddenly darted past the window directly to my left. The blinds were lowered and all I could see was what looked like a freakishly tall human-shaped blur but I tried telling myself that the lights from the courtyard had backlit the figure in such a way that it made them look much bigger than they actually were.

That’s not to say that the entire incident wasn’t still weird as shit. It had startled me enough to get my heart rate going and I tossed and turned for another hour before I could finally relax enough to let myself drift off into a mostly dreamless half-sleep. I say “mostly” because throughout the night I continued to hear that same scratching at the front door. The sound woke me up twice but both times it seemed to stop as soon as I opened my eyes, which was seriously annoying and if it WAS a dream, then my subconscious is an asshole.

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The next morning, I told Ethan about what happened the night before and when I was done he slowly shook his head and explained that his complex had this weird rule against tenants using the dumpsters. The upside was that all you had to do to take out the trash around here was set your full bags outside your door at night and each morning the maintenance guys would come around to collect them.

The downside to this upside was the raccoon problem that inevitably resulted from a complex full of mostly college kids being allowed to leave bags of garbage lying around everywhere five nights a week. “When I first started noticing the scratches on my front door, I asked the lady who manages this place why tenants weren’t allowed to dispose of their own trash and you know what she said? Of course you don’t, because you’re not a crazy person…”

As annoyed and exhausted as I was, this still made me chuckle and I asked Ethan what she said.

‘We used to let you and it was an absolute mess,’” he replied in a mocking falsetto tone.

“And giant rodent-attracting bags of garbage lying around everywhere IS…”

“Exactly. Anyway, I’m sorry, dude. You might wanna grab some earplugs on your way home.”

But earplugs would mean silence and silence would mean actually having to think about my present situation, vis-à-vis the ladies. Well, one lady in particular who hadn’t called me all day and I sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one to break first. Not this time, goddamnit, because this time I was actually in the right and she knew it. Do you know how RARE that is?

So I opted for a new pair of earbuds instead. They were just as snug as plugs and came with the added benefit of distracting me with music. That night, I tried it out but every song I had on my phone reminded me of Lisa and I ended up saying fuck it and putting on a movie instead.

Ethan had a lot of Anime. I couldn’t say if it was a good collection or not, because I don’t know shit about Anime. Ninja Scroll was cool and I love Cowboy Bebop, but those two titles are literally everything I know about the medium. It’s just not my jam and so I decided to put one of those on to ensure that I wouldn’t get too absorbed in what I was watching.

As I started drifting off, there was a quiet moment on screen and that’s when I finally heard it. Something was scratching at the front door again. My eyes snapped open and I sat up, fully expecting the sound to stop just as it had the night before, but it didn’t. Motherfucking raccoons…

I threw off the covers and stomped across the room. I was going to bang on the door and hopefully scare off the obnoxious little shits but then a large silhouette appeared at the window. The figure didn’t dart off like last time but rather simply stood there, his head tilted slightly to one side.

The figure, which WAS easily well over six feet tall with a strange misshaped build, leaned close to the glass and started making those huffing sounds again. He was SMELLING the edges of the window, like a predator trying to track a scent. He made a faint sound like whistling and then, after what felt like hours, the figure finally slinked away from the window.

I exhaled the breath I was unconsciously holding in and slowly approached the window to try and catch a glimpse of whoever this was but by the time I peeked through the blinds, he was well out of sight. I could’ve opened the door and taken a look, but I wasn’t quite that insane. Not yet.


After another mostly sleepless evening, I spent the next morning recounting my latest nocturnal misadventure to Ethan. Only this time he had no simple explanation for me. When I was done, all Ethan could say was “Fuck… That IS weird. I wonder who it is.”

“You know any dudes who are over six feet tall and always smelling stuff?”

“Hmm, none that I can think of…” Ethan pondered the question for another moment and then said, “You ever seen Jeepers Creepers?”

“Wasn’t that directed by the same guy who made Powder?”

“SO? Powder’s a good movie.” I started to laugh but realized Ethan was being completely serious as he asked, “Have you ever actually watched it?”

“Honestly? No.”

“Sean Patrick Flanery’s performance alone is enough to justify the film’s existence.”

“Sean Patrick Flanery was in Powder?”

“Sean Patrick Flanery PLAYED Powder.”

“Blond Boondock Saint PLAYED POWDER?!”

“Yeah but wait, that wasn’t my point. What were we talking about?”

“The fucking monster in your courtyard!”

“Oh yeah, that’s nuts.”

Did I mention this was Saturday morning and we had just gotten super high? No? What a fitting motif.

“We should try and catch this freak-show on camera if he comes back.”

“I’m down. My new phone can record video in HD. OH! And we should totally hide outside in the courtyard. We’ll get a better shot that way and I know a place that would make a perfect spot to shoot from. The pool-house. It has adequate cover AND a line of sight to my door.”

Impressed by this sudden burst of ingenuity, I patted him on the shoulder and said, “See? This is why I fucks with you, Ethan.”

Ethan held up his hands and shrugged. “What can I say? I am a man to be fucks’ed with.”

By that evening, we had sobered up and were ready to go. Despite my recent aversion to silence, I insisted that we didn’t talk or do anything on our phones that made a sound while waiting for our target to appear. Yes, including using headphones. We needed to remain vigilant and I was determined to take this monster hunt seriously. If Lisa could’ve seen me that night, I know exactly what she’d of said:

“Of all the things in your life that you SHOULD be taking seriously right now, this is what you choose to devote your time and energy to?”

I was starting to think that maybe I really was better off without her. I mean, being single was obnoxious in some ways but it would also free me up to get more stuff done. Like hunt monsters. And play video games. Man, did I miss video games. Not as much as I’d miss sex, though.

By this point, I was so sick of being in my own head that I was actually thankful when the figure finally showed up at just after 2:00am, which says a lot about my issues with relationships but in my defense, I never claimed that I WASN’T a hopeless man-child.

Ethan managed to briefly catch the figure on video when it first emerged out of the darkness and started to approach his apartment but you can’t really see much on the recording do to the courtyard’s poor lighting.


The figure paused at the door for a brief moment, then turned and started in our direction. We quietly retreated back inside the pool-house before it could spot us and Ethan began to pull the door closed but then the hinges let out a loud whine that seemed to echo across the courtyard.

I glanced out a window set into the side of the small shack and saw that the tall figure was now slinking toward the pool-house as I pointed and said “Um…”

Ethan yanked the door closed and shouted, “What do we do?”

“Lock the goddamn door!”

“It doesn’t have a lock!”


Ethan motioned to the doorknob as he grabbed on and said, “Help me.”

I tried holding on to the knob as well but with Ethan’s ham-hock hands already around it, I could only fit one of my own and even then it didn’t really feel like I was helping.

“It doesn’t really feel like you’re helping.”

“Want me to let go?”

That’s when something extremely strong started pulling on the door and he screamed, “No!”

It continued to pull for another moment but then thankfully gave up. We could hear it crouch down as it started sniffing the pool-house’s exterior. Ethan turned to look at me and silently mouthed, “What the FUCK?”

The thing outside started scratching at the door as I reflexively let go of the knob and backed away.

“Dude, what are you doing?!” Ethan shouted, still gripping the doorknob and looking on the verge of panic just as the scratching abruptly stopped.

“See? …It’s me it wants.”

Ethan turned to stare at me, a puzzled look on his face that soon turned to horror as he pointed over my shoulder and said, “It’s at the window.”

I turned to see the tall figure pressing its pale face to the window directly to my left and just barely managed to stop myself from fainting like some hysterical female lead in a movie from the 1950s. I suddenly felt Ethan pulling at my arm as he screamed, “Fucking RUN!”

We both bolted out of the pool-house at full speed and, just as I was told, I fucking ran. Historically speaking, Ethan wasn’t the most agile guy but that night he actually managed to beat me back to his apartment. I followed Ethan inside and he slammed the door shut and locked the bolt as he collapsed against the wall, both of us panting like we’d just concluded a particularly draining bout of prison sex.

I fell to my knees and muttered between gasps of air, “Holy… shit…“

Ethan stood and, peering through the blinds, said, “I don’t see it. Dude… What the fuck was that?!”

“I have no idea.”

“Did you see the way it was moving?”


“What the FUCK was that?!”

I reviewed the video on Ethan’s phone and realized there was no way I was sleeping tonight, regardless of how exhausted I may have been. So I decided to write out this post and attach the aforementioned footage to it. I have no idea what to do now and Ethan didn’t say anything more before going to bed, but I’m almost certain he’s starting to regret letting me stay here. Can’t say I blame him.

The figure, which I nicknamed “WTF” had walked with a strange bowlegged gate and it’s freakishly long right arm seemed to jut out from its side at an inhuman angle. But the worst part was its expressionless face. Not expressionless. Emotionless. Its eyes were small jet-black ovals and its skin, by contrast, was an almost pastel white.

My point is that it’s a good thing Ethan’s video had been so poorly lit. Consider yourself lucky that you’ve only ever seen this thing as a blurry image recorded on a cellphone camera. I’ve never been a very religious person but that next morning, as the first orange glow of sunrise began to creep across the horizon, it was the memory of that face that made me say a silent prayer of thanks for having survived through the night.

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Today started out pretty awkward with Ethan accusing me of playing some kind of epic prank on him the previous evening. By this point, sleep deprivation had left me with a bit of a short fuse and I responded by shouting in an indignant tone, “Mu’fucker, do I LOOK like Tracey Jordan, host of the SyFy Channel original series Scare Tactics? Seriously, WHY would I do something like that?”

“The same reason you do anything. Because you thought it’d be funny.”

“Yeah, it was downright HILARIOUS,” I replied in a tone dripping with sarcasm.

“I’m sure it will be to your little internet friends or whoever you show that video to.”

“Dude. Ethan. Listen to me. I wouldn’t do that to you, okay? I didn’t make up the fight I had with Lisa and I certainly haven’t been lying awake the past three nights just to fuck with you. I genuinely need somewhere to crash right now. Why would I prank the person who’s giving me a place to stay when that would only further jeopardize my already tenuous living situation?”

Ethan considered all of this for a moment and then said, “Well, then someone is SERIOUSLY fucking with you because what happened last night…”

“Yeah, I know. It was fucked up.”

“It was FUCKED up!”

“I wholeheartedly agree.”

Ethan glared at me for a moment before finally asking, “So you’re seriously telling me everything that happened yesterday was for real?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Ethan’s eyes opened wide and he scoffed. “Wow.”

“Do you want me to find somewhere else to sleep?”


“Fair enough,” I said, holding up my hands in a conceding gesture.

Ethan shook his head. “But you’re also one of my best friends and this is clearly something you shouldn’t have to deal with alone. Not if I can help it.”

“I’m open to suggestions.”

“Well square fucking one is to figure out exactly what we’re up against here.” I followed Ethan into the kitchen as he prepared a fresh pot of coffee and said, “Can you think of anyone who’d have a reason to want to torment you?”

I thought for a moment and then shrugged. “You know me, man. I rarely go out of my way to be of much consequence to anyone.”

I let out a humorless laugh as I realized the sad truth of what I’d just said and Ethan gave me a look like he honestly felt bad for asking the question. He switched the coffee maker on and said, “Well you have obviously pissed SOMEONE off… You mind telling me what you and Lisa’s fight was over?”

I let out a dramatic sigh and leaned against the kitchen counter. “Stupidity.”


“I really don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Guess what, buddy? I don’t wanna LISTEN to it. You think I need to hear about the pitfalls of your love-life? I do NOT. But what might be an inhuman force has stalked you all the way to my doorstep and I’m gonna find out why. If that means you puttin’ on your sharing-pants and telling me about your relationship, that’s what’s gonna happen!”

I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath. He was right. Anyway, the short version is:

Lisa did something super selfish. The kind of selfish that just plain hurts, and when I confronted her about it she admitted it was wrong but then she got really defensive and what started as Lisa “just trying to explain herself” turned into an epic guilt trip about how I needed to stop being so emotionally inattentive. I called her “an awful bitch” and she told me to get out.

“That’s it?”

I nodded. “Pretty much.”

“What was the selfish thing she did?”


Ethan gave me a frustrated sigh. “Did it involve another guy?”

I reeled back in disgust and said, “NO!”

Ethan smirked and said, “Another girl?”

“Look, if Lisa had cheated on me, I wouldn’t have wasted my breath arguing about it and I certainly wouldn’t have been the one to leave, that’s for damn sure. I’d a told that ho’ to kick rocks.”

“Fine, “ Ethan poured himself another cup of coffee and asked, “Was it something that involved other people in any way, shape, or form?”

“This princess is in another castle, alright? Can we please, for the love of god, just drop it?”

Ethan sighed again and said, “Fine. I guess it’s Plan B then.”

“Plan B” was the name of the shotgun Ethan kept in his bedroom closet. Twelve-gauge, semi-automatic pump-action, with a matte-black finish that Ethan said made it the “home invasion edition.” He dug the weapon out and handed it to me as he bent down to retrieve a box of shells.

The weight of the shotgun felt good in my hands. I gripped it by the pump and tried to do one of those single-handed racks like some badass in action movie and Ethan suddenly jumped up, screaming “WHOA!”

“What?” I asked as he snatched the shotgun out of my hands.

“If there’s a shell chambered when you rack the pump, it FIRES. Look at me…” We locked eyes for a moment and then Ethan slowly held out the shotgun as he said, “Do not do that.”

Our plan this time was far simpler. I went to bed just like it was a normal night, only this time Ethan was waiting just inside the front door. As soon as the scratching started, Ethan yanked the door open as I jumped out of bed with the shotgun in hand, aiming it at the tall figure crouching in the open doorway.

“The jig’s up, bitch! Now explain yourself!” I shouted. WTF turned its black eyes on me and I froze as the figure slowly stood to its full height.

“Wait, hold…” Ethan started to say but then the figure darted out of sight. I was finally able to move again and immediately sprinted after him, shotgun clutched in my hands. Ethan hurried after me, shouting in a loud whisper, “Dude, what are you doing?”

“The fucker isn’t getting away this time!”

Ethan yelled something else but adrenalin had my heart pounding too loudly in my ears to hear it. My focus was on the inhuman figure bounding the complex’s back wall and it wasn’t until I started to do the same that I noticed Ethan was no longer following me. I didn’t blame him. This was my fight.

As I landed in the narrow alley behind Ethan’s complex, I saw WTF’s lanky form sprinting around the corner to my left. I followed the figure down a sparsely lit side street which, after half a block, dead-ended in a large overgrown field. Beyond that was a thick patch of woods.

I spotted WTF crouching down as it disappeared into the tall grass less than twenty feet ahead of me. I thought about turning back even as I sprinted in after him…

I considered simply returning to Ethan’s and maybe leading him here with his camera. It would be nice to have back-up and, hell, maybe we could turn the whole thing into one of those found-footage movies everybody seems to hate but yet still makes anyway…

But of course, I didn’t. I tore through the overgrown foliage, which was taller than me at some points and so thick that it felt more like wading through water. It was slow going but I followed the sound of frantic rustling ahead of me and eventually came upon a small makeshift hut hidden at the back of the field.

Flickering candle light poured through the partially open door and I raised the shotgun in my hands as I started to approach the shack. Then something heavy beamed me across the back of my head and suddenly I was dreaming…

It only felt like a moment but when I finally regained consciousness, I found myself inside what I assumed was the makeshift hut. WTF was crouched down in one corner of the small filthy space, his hunched back to me as he fiddled with something.

I must’ve groaned as I tried to lift my aching head because the tall figure spun to face me then and, before I could even react, he was inserting an apparatus into my ear. A length of wire connected the apparatus to an odd device in WTF’s elongated hand.

“Est-ce la façon dont vous parlez? Oui ou non?” said the caustic robotic voice in my ear as WTF emitted a strange series of whistles into the device. “Dites-moi avec vos sons de bouche… Oui ou non?”

I shook my head and he tapped at the device once again and the automated voice said, “¿Es este? Sí o no? Sí o no?”


Another tap and more faint whistling, followed by, “Это один?”

I shook my head.

“This then, pink monkey?”

“There you go.” I said and nodded.

WTF began to whistle more rapidly as the automated voice suddenly shouted “GREETINGS! I am Siphiliniark, legion of Bapflapper. My species is of a mammalian genus similar to your own. We inhabit a blue-green world which orbits the sun you know as Betelgeuse. I have come to your Earth to prove to my life-mate that I am capable of propagating our respective DNA. You should note that one significant difference between our species is that our unborn gestate within the gender that produces testosterone as opposed to estrogen. My own gestating cavities ceased to function long before I was able to propagate. I have since been forced to search out a host with a PH balance compatible to my own so that I may harvest my brood in them. This practice is forbidden on my world which is why, throughout time, I and many before me have visited your Earth. Hue-mans are regarded as an aberrant species. Even those in your own government know of our existence and yet they do nothing to prevent it or even worn their own people. This is why it is believed that you are most likely the byproduct of an evolutionary fluke. Thereby one could argue that your only real purpose in this universe is to act as the birthing chambers for a far more superior species. Do you accept my apology, Hue-Man?”

“Do I WHAT?!”

“As I have explained to you, this is a great honor and yet I am sensing hostility in your tone? Why is that?”

“Let’s see! Maybe because you’re threatening to put a space baby in me?!”

“This is incorrect, Hue-Man.”

“REALLY? Because it sure sounded like that!”

“The inaccuracy was in your tense. I have already nested a total of three fertilized embryos in your lower intestine.” WTF then spun around to retrieve the apparatus he had been messing with in the corner as the automated voice in my ear said “Now please roll onto on your stomach so that I may continue.”

My head was still throbbing but I managed to turn it enough to see Ethan’s shotgun lying a foot away on the cardboard flooring. WTF was still fiddling with what I assumed was his insemination-contraption and I figured it was now or never. I scrambled to my feet and scooped up the gun as I made a mad dash for the door.

But WTF was quicker. As soon as I touched the doorknob, he grabbed my hand away and started to crush it between his own massive fingers. I turned the shotgun on him with the hand still holding it by the pump and he whistled at me in a melody that sounded similar to laughter.

“Didn’t you know? Badasses only need one hand to fire a shotgun.” I said, propping the butt against my stomach as I racked the slide and fired a round into his gut.

The blast knocked WTF onto his back and he stared down in horror at the gaping wound in his stomach. This thing may have looked different from us on the outside, but I was delighted to see that he still bled just as red.

It was then that I thought about the past four nights of sleepless hell and the three monster fetuses now buried in my ass and the next thing I remembered was a stinging pain in both of my hands… my knuckles. I was now straddling the figure’s lifeless body as I repeatedly drove my bleeding fists into his face.

For the sake of posterity, I took a picture of the ugly mother fucker before I left.

I arrived back at the apartment to find Ethan looking on the verge of panic. I told him the whole story and then showed him the picture I took on my phone. That’s when he got really pale and said he was probably gonna call it a night. Then he went into his room and locked the door, which was weird but whatever. I didn’t have much time to waste worrying about stuff like that. Who knew how long it would take for these embryos to finish growing inside me?

But, before I take care of that problem, I figured I at least owed you guys this final update. I’m sorry to inform you that it will also be my last post on here. I wish you all long, happy lives and just wanna say thanks for being there when no one else was.

AND LISA: If you’re reading this please know that I am so, SO sorry. I completely understand now and I just want you to know that I loved you with all of my heart. You were the greatest thing that ever happened to this douche bag.

The best part of me was you. My girly. I love you.

Two minutes before this was posted, at 12:40am, emergency services received a call from someone claiming that his best friend had just shot a homeless man. At this point in the recording gunfire can clearly be heard and, despite the operator’s pleas, the caller disconnected.

When detectives questioned him, Ethan tried his best to explain what happened that night and the events which had preceded it, but there were still many questions that couldn’t be answered.

Believe it or not, the murdered homeless man had actually been a former military sergeant by the name of Hank Beasley. Hank had served three tours in Iraq before losing most of his right arm in a helicopter crash, which had also left him with a severe case of PTSD. After failing a routine psyche-evaluation, Hank was discharged and placed in a VA hospital for treatment.

Sadly, by this point the PTSD had made him severely paranoid and left Hank with a tendency toward violent outbursts. After he stabbed an orderly in the eye with a fork because he thought the man was trying to steal his pudding, the hospital was forced to discharge Hank and he had been living on the street ever since. As a means of survival, Hank had made a habit of sneaking into Ethan’s complex at night to raid the endless supply of trash bags that tenants were always leaving beside their doors.

The detectives’ theory was that Hank had been making his nightly trash run when [IDENTITY OMITTED] saw him pass Ethan’s window and the sight of the shotgun had triggered Hank’s fight-or-flight instinct. It’s unclear how Hank had managed to get the drop on [IDENTITY OMITTED] once they reached the primary crime scene but evidence indicated that a lead pipe had been used to knock him unconscious. At this point, a delusional Hank most likely assumed that [IDENTITY OMITTED] was dead and proceeded to hide his unconscious body inside the shack.

From the way the scene was laid out, it looked as if [IDENTITY OMITTED] had regained consciousness about a half hour later. It was at this point that his sleep-deprived mind confused the nightmare he’d just had with the reality of his situation and, in the throes of his own paranoia-fueled psychological break-down, shot the man to death.

Then, apparently still convinced that he had been impregnated with the fertilized embryos of an alien species, [IDENTITY OMITTED] killed himself. And this was considered the BELIEVABLE version.

It was good enough for a judge to sign off on at least, which was great for everyone working the case but there’s one aspect that still bugs me even now, more than a year later. The last page of the case-file had been a memo titled “Anomalous Materials” which detailed a piece of evidence first noted by a tech after digitally mapping both crime scenes.

In short Hank was 5’9 while the figure on Ethan’s video was easily 6’5 or over. It’s one minor inconsistency that was probably easily dismissed by the cops and the assistant D.A. in their mad dash to be done with such an obnoxious case. But stupid me, of course I couldn’t let it go.

I even shared my concerns with the Assistant D.A. and was told, in no uncertain terms, that if I didn’t drop it I would lose my job. He wasn’t a mean guy, generally, but the look on his face then made me think that maybe he knew something I didn’t. So, I ended up making an extra copy of the files and holding on to them for the time when I was finally ready to put it all out there.

I recently tried tracking down the tech listed on the “Anomalous Materials” memo after deciding to write this article but, according to official records, he’s been “missing” for more than seven months now. I tried to ignore the cold feeling this news had left me with and maybe I would have if I hadn’t woken up that night to the sound of something scratching at my bedroom window.

It’s been happening for a week now and then last night I managed to record this on my cellphone…


See? This is why I can’t have nice things!

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Check out more terrifying tales in Tell Me A Story by Joel Farrelly, available now.