nosleep

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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/CapnMarvelous on 2024-09-19 07:52:14+00:00.

I was four when I first saw it.

I lived in a fairly safe and comfortable neighborhood. We never wanted for anything and I was an only child. I had two loving parents. By all accounts, there was no real inciting incident. No trauma, no fear, no nothing that would make me hallucinate. I was by all accounts a gifted child who lived with great, loving parents in a large house.

I remember I had come home from school, I had gotten a snack from the pantry and I was taking over the living room to watch Power Rangers as was my after school tradition. As I walked into the living room, I looked out into the backyard. At the time, my little brain could only register a furry lump. A squirrel. It hadn't been torn apart or killed by anything, just died of old age. I knew death was a thing but I had never seen it in real life up to this point.

This was the first time it occurred. From the corpse of the squirrel, I saw what looked like stringy teathers break loose from its body. Ethereal blue things, barely thicker than twine, pulling apart as I saw a ghostly, blue version of the squirrel "emerge" from its body. It regarded me for a moment as I watched it. Could it see me? Did the dead watch us? Then I saw it immediately scamper off.

My family wasn't religious. I wasn't religious. We were Christian, sure, but we didn't exactly visit church every sunday nor did we avoid specific vices or espout virtues. Still, we believed in the basics: When you die, you go to heaven if you're a good person. Hell if you're a bad person, but at the time I called it heck. Seeing this...well, I didn't know what to do. How was a four year old supposed to handle this?

Instead of watching TV, I went to my mom in the office. She was busy on a computer, having a serious talk with someone I didn't know. "And are you sure it's nothing serious? If you— Hm? I'll have to call you back. We'll pick this up soon. Sure. Goodbye." She'd hang up the phone, turning in her chair to look at me. "Yes, Danny?"

"Mom, there's a squirrel in the backyard."

"I'm sure there is, honey. Is that all you wanted to say?"

"Mom, I think it died."

Her face twisted in a look of revulsion. "Alright dear. Let me get daddy to take care of it." She left the office. I could hear her calling "Jacob? Jacoooooob. Baby, need you to do something for me." She didn't get it. I mean, how could she? What was there to understand? And I didn't exactly blurt out that I saw ghosts. I was four. What was I supposed to say?

So I hid it. I locked it away in my brain and it was my little secret. In a way, it gave me catharsis. I wasn't having existential dread at the age of four but the unknown still scared me. To know that your soul lives on, well, it gave me some measure of peace even as a child. My parents weren't exactly going to think I was telling the truth either, so why bring it up? Kid-me knew grown-ups couldn't see stuff kids could, but it was alright.

There was no rulebook, but I picked up some things as I watched. Some minor rules:

• Creatures had to be big enough. A mouse seemed to be the cut off. I didn't see ants or gnats appear.
• From death, it took about forty seconds for something to "break" free.
• I didn't know what would happen if you were brought back after legal death, but I assumed your soul was dragged back to you.
• You didn't get to fly but you could walk through walls like a ghost most of the time.

That was about all I had gathered for about a few years. Things were good for those two years. I had my secret nobody else knew and it gave me peace. I knew one of the great unknowns of humanity. Me, a kid. I felt like a genius. Then the greater truth was revealed. It was December eighth, at about six fifteen in the morning on a sunday, that things went to hell.

I had been dreaming peacefully when the scream woke me up. I bolted upright, almost too afraid to speak. My room was on the second floor of the house and my parents were down the hallway. If I screamed, I'd wake them up. I had nightmares before, was that all it was? Just a bad dream and a sudden scream? When you're a child, your mind tricks you to justify things. It couldn't trick my eyes, however.

Across the street from us was Jeffrey Raymonds. Mr. Raymonds was an old guy, not quite senile, but his best years were behind him. He was a kind man. I loved going to his house when we went trick-or-treating. He liked to boast he gave out full-sized candy bars. That made him my favorite neighbor. I got out of my bed to see where the scream had come from, as it had been outside my window and across the street. Was Mr. Raymonds in danger? I didn't know but I had to look.

Mr. Raymonds was entirely blue, just as I had seen other dead things before, but he wasn't acting like himself. He was panicked. He was in his pajamas. Howling, screaming, running through walls. He had died, probably from old age, but this wasn't like the squirrels or rabbits I saw. No, he was screeching, sprinting, sometimes going through walls, sometimes hitting them. It's like his body wasn't solid enough. It scared me.

I ran down the hall, heavy steps ignoring how early it was, as I'd enter my parent's room. I went to my dad's side of the bed. "Dad," I'd say "Daddaddad. Wake up, can you wake up?"

He'd groggily groan, leaning over to look at the alarm clock. "Hey bud. It's really early. You ok? Nightmare?" he'd ask, sitting up from the bed. Mom wouldn't wake up, heavily sleeping.

"I think something bad happened to Mr. Raymonds."

"Mmm? Why so, buddy?"

"Just a bad feeling."

"Nightmare?"

"No, I just...can you go check on him?"

"Mmm. Mr. Raymonds might be sleeping. You know he's an old guy," Dad told me.

"Dad, please, can you...please?"

His eyes said "I'm not going to sleep until I do this, am I?" but his face said "Anything for you, sport". He'd push himself up, getting his slippers on. "Alright, alright. I'll go check on him."

As Dad went down the stairs, I returned to my room. I'd watch from the second story window, hearing him open and close the door. Dad waved at a passing jogger, exchanging a quick discussion before he'd walk across the road. All the while, Mr. Raymond's spirit continued to howl, flail, scream. I don't think it knew where it was or what was going on.

Dad knocked on the door. Silence. Dad looked concerned for a moment. He knocked again. Silence. Now I think he knew something was wrong. He'd do a quick jog back across to our house, where I heard him in the kitchen grabbing the phone and talking to someone. I hoped to see Mr. Raymond's spirit calm down, but he'd just...keep screaming, keep running throughout his rooms and through his walls.

There's a danger, in nature, when an animal gets wounded. It calls for help. Sometimes, a kind human finds it and pulls it out of a trap. Other times, a fellow memebr of the species finds it and saves it. But most often, those cries attract a predator. And in this case, Mr. Raymond's spirit was a siren.

I stayed glued to the window, watching the seen, my eyes switching between the actions in the physical world as an ambulance pulled up and spiritual world, Mr. Raymond's ghost tirelessly howling and scrambling around. I wasn't sure how to help him, so I was going to decide to go to bed.

That's when I saw it.

All this time, I had only seen blue spirits. Human, animal or otherwise. They'd flucuate in tone and opacity, sure, but always blue. This was the first time I ever saw a red spirit. It scrambled on all fours, long and lanky. Its arms were too long, its legs not ending in feet but in two sharp talons: One in the front, one in the back. I covered my mouth, watching what I think was its head bob. It had no eyes, a sort of heavy shell covering the top half of its head. It was beelining to the screaming Mr. Raymond.

Paramedics were having a polite conversation as it barged through them, phasing like a ghost. One paramedic turned around, as if someone had tapped his shoulder, but he looked back to his friend. I saw a primal terror in Mr. Raymond's eyes. He knew this was a predator. He screamed, howling less like a man and more like an animal, before he'd charge into the house. The thing followed soon after.

I couldn't see it, but I could hear it. Panicked screams, gutteral cries. And then silence. Eeriely quiet. Maybe Mr. Raymonds had got away? Maybe he went somewhere further into the after life. A child struggled to comprehend nonexistence and the universe was now asking a child to comprehend what came even further after.

Nausea was going to overtake me before my Dad went in my room, making me turn away from the window. "Hey, kiddo. I uh...hey. Mr. Raymond's...listen, he's...yeah..." He seemed unsure of how to broach the subject, doubly-so considering I somehow knew Mr Raymond had died.

"It's ok dad," I whispered. "...I thought it was a nightmare but..."

"Bad dreams, I know. Hey, listen. Do you want some breakfast? Whatever you want?"

"No, I'm not really hungry right now. But thanks dad. I love you lots."

"Love you too, buddy."

Dad closed the door, probably wanting to give me some peace while I processed this. There were things to process, to be sure, but I didn't want to speak on it. I turned back to the window, watching to see if the red thing had gone. It hadn't. The red thing now stood in the middle of the street, hands twitching. Hands that ended in knives, not fingers.

And it was staring at me without eyes.

I covered my mouth in horror. Kid logic said that...

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