Custom Sensor Solutions, Inc.Custom Sensor Solutions, Inc.I’m alone in the house, sitting in the living room, becoming more and more terrified. The anger in the house is building up again. I watch the back stairs, just off the kitchen, expecting at any moment to see his head appear above the back counter as he reaches the top of the stairs. He? It? What is there in the basement that has me so terrified? I’m afraid it will come up into the kitchen. It never has before; maybe it can’t. It’s as if some force were keeping it confined to the basement. But the atmosphere of malevolence is growing stronger, and I wonder how much longer it can be contained.
I try to look away from the kitchen, but the feeling that it will soon reach the top of the stairs, that it wants to chase me out of the house, is overwhelming. Oh, why doesn’t somebody come home! I look at the clock. It’s only 7:30. No one else is due back for at least another hour. Outside it’s a dark and cold October night; inside, the feeling of foreboding has been building up to something palpable. It has reached the kitchen and is approaching the dining room. Soon it will reach the living room...
“This is foolish!” I tell myself. “There’s no one here but me and my overactive imagination.” I will myself to get up and walk over to the stereo. “I’ll put on some music,” I say, thinking the music will distract me and take away this terror. My heart is pounding as I reach into the cabinet to select a record album. The ominous feeling grows, until I sense that danger is only a few steps away. Grabbing just any album, I begin to remove it from the record jacket. I no longer care what the music is. Anything to drown out this feeling of...
“Get out!” a male voice says inside my head. It’s a voice full of venom. The tone is menacing; it’s more of a whispered threat, not a shout. Instinctively I turn and look towards the kitchen. No one is there. No one is in the room with me, and yet I heard him.
Current May 26, 1998
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