THURSDAY
She tapes over the windows, not thinking about the fact that she can’t see out anymore. She’s just obsessed with someone peeking in. Specifically him. He has been stalking her for weeks, she thinks. Doesn’t know when she figured it out, not that anyone believes her. There’s no proof she can show anyone. Just a hunch and whenever she looks fast enough, there’s an edge she can sometimes catch. After taping up the windows, she pours a large glass of wine that gives her more heartburn than comfort. Falling asleep is hard, her mattress feels like a wood plank, she can’t relax or get comfortable.
FRIDAY
What if he’s a ghost? What if he isn’t real? Like, tangible real, like corporeal. It just comes to her as a thought as she’s waking up and as it comes through she realizes its a fact. That’s what it is. She’s being stalked by a ghost, a spirit. What do you do about that? What action can be taken? Running her errands, she passes a psychic’s storefront near a mini mall, parks and goes in. Drops twenty and asks for help with a problem. The psychic apologizes and says that isn’t anything she can help with, but says she’ll help her out, she paid her anyway. Psychic has a landline she uses to call a number from an old paper handwritten phone book. She hears the psychic speaking with a guy named Bill, they haven’t spoken in quite some time, there are some catch up comments, but she cuts right to it, says she has a client that needs his help, passes the phone to her. Bill’s voice is not what she expects, a little higher pitched, but he’s listening. She feels relieved just being able to speak her thoughts without expecting judgment. Waiting for his response, which takes almost a minute, she realizes she’s been holding her breath. Bill believes that she is not in imminent danger, but he’ll try to help uncover the spirit’s motive, perhaps broker a truce or find a solution to whatever it is searching for. They are usually searching for something, Bill says, and sometimes form attachments in a haphazard way. He will come to her place in the morning. She thanks the psychic and leaves, forgets half her groceries in the car, she’s so distracted with her thoughts, she’ll find the bad milk when she gets in the car Saturday afternoon. The spirit has changed, she can feel it, it has a darker energy, threatening. Making dinner it feels like he is behind her constantly, she knows it’s a male presence now, there’s a violent sexual menace that feels very primal and masculine. Swinging around from her cutting board, knife in hand, she looks but there is nothing there. Is there a sensation of laughter? She doesn’t like it. Watches TV until she falls asleep, wakes up to a splash screen from the streaming service asking her if she wants more, goes to bed.
SATURDAY
Showering, she feels vulnerable, thinks about PSYCHO. Keeps thinking she sees shadows outside the pebbled glass shower door. It feels so warm and relaxing, but she can’t stay in. Anxiously eating eggs and toast with raspberry jam, trying to clean up the dishes when the doorbell rings. Bill is not what she expects, he’s in his sixties and missing an arm. Bill immediately says that the spirit is lurking, watching them. He asks her to show her all the places in the house where she has sensed the spirit the most. Noticing the taped-up windows, Bill looks at her questioningly. Before I realized it wasn’t someone on the outside, she says, peeling some of it down. Bill stops her, says it is actually helpful to have control over the lighting, it can hide in sunny areas, but shadows tend to give it away. That’s when she feels the first shove, it’s the first time it - he - has physically confronted her, touched her. Bill is immediately at her side, touching where she was touched, looking but not always with his eyes. Bill tells the spirit to show himself, stop being a coward, make himself known. That is when she hears the spirit’s voice clearly for the first time, a loud sharp exhale of a laugh, but it is enough. Enough to make her recall the voice speaking to her at night while she sleeps, a voice telling her all the awful torture he is going to inflict upon her, slicing her up slowly and awfully, bleeding her out like an animal, skinning her like a piece of meat, and turning her corpse into a horrific doll for him to play with. The blood drains from her as these utterances come back so clearly, she vomits, some gets on Bill. There is a whooshing sound in the room, she can tell the spirit is moving around. Bill holds her firmly with his arm, tells her she called him just in time. He tries to stand her up, whispering that he’s going to get her out of there, that’s when the glass paperweight hits Bill in the eye and he topples, falling on her while moaning in pain. She gets up and screams, just screams, finally letting it all out - the tension and anxiety that has been building within her for weeks as the spirit has been building toward his nightmare vision. While screaming, she sees him. She doesn’t realize at first who it is, she thinks another person has entered the apartment. It is as if the white hot fury of her scream is a light. The spirit is not tall and thin, as she expected, but shorter and stubbier, wearing a cheap suit and hat, almost from another era. When her noise stops, she realizes what she saw, and something shifts inside her. Bill is silent, but she can feel his support, sense his encouragement. She is turning, looking for where the entity is. No one is going to do this to her again. Lyle was the first, Johnny was the second. She promised herself there would be no third. By the doorway to the kitchen she can see or sense it and she screams again, although she is not sure she is making noise, it feels like a scream in its eminence, the power that is coming from her, out of her, but this time she sees a pulse of light hit the entity and it goes sprawling to the floor. A hit. She isn’t thinking, she isn’t going to realize what is happening until Bill tells her later, after he peels the windows open for her and makes a pot of tea and a sandwich. She needs replenishment after the intense outpouring of energy. But that’s later. Now, she stalks the entity to the kitchen where it is getting up and she unleashes again, harder this time, a deeper angry force erupts from her feet and through her head and another pulse of light, this one larger and brighter, smashes into the entity, which lurches away. Seeing that she is winning, she fires off a staccato blast of rapid-fire pulses, and the entity dissipates. That’s when she collapses. When she comes to, the afternoon light is pouring in, the comforting aroma of fresh tea fills the air and Bill has covered her with a blanket from the couch, a pillow behind her head. The vomit is mostly gone from the floor. She wants to know everything, but he insists that she take a shower and get comfortable first. Sitting in her clean clothes, a towel swaddling her hair, she eats ravenously and savors the delicious hot tea as Bill explains to her what happened, what he could see. The entity is gone. It is not likely to come back, she has marked her territory, there is an aura to her home that will protect her. If she wishes, he can work with her on summoning protective spirits. Bill quietly tells her that he has never seen a talent as strong as hers, that he is willing to help her harness and control it, use it to protect herself, perhaps others. Even while listening, eating a sandwich, looking out the window with her eyes while she thinks it all over, she can sense the profound change in her. The way she feels in her body, the way she feels in her space. The deference and respect from this man. She will get used to this.
October 9, 2022