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 A True Story - by Gravy Gulper

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PostSubject: A True Story - by Gravy Gulper   Mon May 21, 2012 5:57 pm

This isn't anybody else's work. Nor is it made up or exaggerated for entertainment purposes. I'm going to deliver my memories exactly as they are.



My memories from childhood are soft, malleable, almost liquid. There are memories that I'm sure were real. Walking into a spiderweb when I was 3. Calling dog shit, "Ca-Ca!" when I was too young to know my age. A sense of reality and cognitive associations echo through the fabric of such memories.

I remember staring into a glass table (at my Grandma Caruso's house) when I was 4. Looking past my reflection, I thought there was an alternative reality or mysterious new land on the other side. There was swirling plaster and the floor of this world seemed bare and curved into strange angles. I stared for about 20 minutes. Looking under the table only to find the floor. I longed to see this other world more clearly, but the more I grabbed at the glass, the more I smudged it. Eventually, I only saw my own reflection. In frustration, I stomped to the couch, throwing myself on it to pout. That's when I noticed the ceiling. It was the swirling, angular landscape I'd been searching for. I know this memory is real because I remember discovering what reflections are. The cognitive association is so strong.

There are other memories that are more surreal, though. I have a memory of a bright, sunny, warm day spent swimming in my one-piece pajamas with mommy in our small (but it seemed so huge to me), blue, hard-plastic kiddie pool. The water was warm and covered in magnificent bubbles a whole foot deep. But it doesn't add up. Why would Mom let me swim in one-piece pajamas? Why would she make it a bubble-bath? How could the water have been so warm? The sun was so warm and shiny, but i don't recall clouds or sky at all? As happy and beautiful as this memory is, I'm pretty sure its a dream or something. This memory is too perfect. Too fragile. Too sentimental to be real.

Try as I might, there's one memory that I simply can't pretend is fantasy. I wish to God it were, but I can still feel the chill in my spine when I think back to it.

One night, when I was 6 or 7, I saw something. Mom and Dad had tucked me in a few minutes ago. The lights were out and it was quiet enough to hear the buzzing of nothingness. The first time I saw it, I thought it was one of those squiggly things that float around your vision (that I now know to be imperfections in my cornea). I saw a blur in the corner of my eye. Not of motion, just a blurry spot on the wall. When I turned my attention to it, gone of course.

A few minutes later, I saw another. This one on the ceiling directly above me and again at the corner of my eye (for I was laying on my side). I felt nervous with the eerie sensation that I was being watched. I spun onto my back to look up at it, but gone again. Immediately, I noticed another thing on the wall again. In the corner of my other eye. I spun over to look and ... I saw ... it.

For a split second, I beheld something disturbing. Not like the disturbing you hear about in books or movies. It wasn't dripping with blood or hateful or scary for any surface reason. It was simply ... something else. It didn't look like it should exist in this plane at all. It looked wrong! Just plain wrong.

What I saw, in that split second, was a face. Disembodied. Inhuman. It stuck out of the wall but only halfway out. It vaguely resembled one of those old theater masks. But not quite. It had that plaster-white color, even in the dark. Especially in the dark. It didn't have a human shape. It was more serpentine, with a flat, wide head and god-awful eyes. Its blank grin made my skin crawl. But its most frightening feature was invisible. I could feel its will, projected onto me. It was malevolent, I just knew.

Then it was gone, but I knew I had seen it. And it knew I had seen it. That was all I had time to think before it was on the opposite wall, right next to my bed. Within two feet of me. I felt its shiny, black eyes. No pupils. My lower back shivered. I spun to look again. This time, I felt its purpose before it vanished.

When someone approaches you, sometimes you can feel what they're going to do. A friend might be beaming with positive intent and you'll instinctively fall into their hug; perfectly. Or if they're angry, you can feel that they're going to to hit you just as they're swinging. I don't know where it comes from or how it works, but this instinct is powerful and amazingly accurate.

As I caught a glimpse of the face's lidless stare, I could tell it wanted to ... take me. This cognitive association is so vivid and chilling and powerful that I've remembered it all these years. I tossed and spun around all night, but everywhere I looked, that face was at the edge of my vision. I panicked into a cold sweat. My voice and legs were paralyzed. I spent the rest of the night under my covers, hoping to God I wouldn't find myself in their world the next morning. I felt those eyes on me all night long.


Last edited by Gravy Gulper on Tue May 22, 2012 5:08 am; edited 5 times in total (Reason for editing : because)
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PostSubject: Re: A True Story - by Gravy Gulper   Mon May 21, 2012 9:54 pm

It reminds me of that creepy unknown presence I felt in the corners of my room when I was young. I knew I was safe, yet always had this feeling I was doomed. At age 7, I felt accepting death was better than staying up all night afraid. Then I woke up and forgot about it and played with my Legos and Dragonball Z action figures.

I thought you did a wonderful job writing this, especially if it only took you an hour like you claim. I look forward to more from you.
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PostSubject: Re: A True Story - by Gravy Gulper   Tue May 22, 2012 10:03 am

That was a nicely written story. I thought you jumped from settings quite well. This reminds me of the sensation you get (I had brought this up previously in the horror section, I believe LOR could relate) when you are sick and are trying to sleep- it feels like you have mild dementia. For example I'd be laying there and certain phrases would just continue to repeat in my head. One line from a System song he yells quickly in an oddly tuned voice "Why they fuck'd you let him take him away from us you mother fucker", and in my head I just kept hearing it over and over and couldn't stop thinking about it. Can't describe the situation- its not fun. Happened a bunch of times when I'm sick

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PostSubject: Re: A True Story - by Gravy Gulper   Tue May 22, 2012 12:06 pm

this was actually really neat. when i was 10 or something i could swear I heard voices calling my name, not like i might have heard them, they were freaking loud. i think being young just has that effect, or as they say, the young could be more sensitive to the supernatural

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PostSubject: Re: A True Story - by Gravy Gulper   Tue May 22, 2012 4:12 pm

@ all - thankee spankee.
@ Nagger - sorry, i meant around an hour. probably closer to 2 or 3.
@ BYD - I know that feeling. It's interesting as hell. I think its at the base of all decent psychological horror.
@LOR - I love the fact that everyone has vivid, creepy memories in their past. It's incredible how many people tell such stories.
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PostSubject: Re: A True Story - by Gravy Gulper   Tue May 22, 2012 5:27 pm

its weird though right?

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