So after my first post started circulating, I ended up getting an enormous amount of notifications. Mostly about context. Some were asking me what kind of drugs I was on. So many of you called me fake. Thank you, by the way. I enjoyed the de-realization because being “fake” is a real possibility here. You are correct to say it’s fake, but it’s also not.

One of the comments I got was just “CONTEXT?” with a lot more question marks and exclamation points. So the context for my last post; I was drunk. I’m not sure what you want me to say other than that. I said a lot of things that I wasn’t supposed to, that’s for sure.

Let’s start with the Bounty Hunters and my move to the other side of the country then. Yes, I’m being hunted for money. It has a lot to do with my past- it’s very gory, I can say that much. I think most of the Bounty Hunters are in line with the un-perceived, which is another thing I was asked to explain.

The thing is, it’s not so much as someone putting out a “bounty” you can search up then call someone for payment for, and more so… the things that are stalking me are generally trying to ruin my life. If I happen to die during any of the instances of so-called “life-ruining,” then yay them. One more line they don’t have to deal with.

I wrote about one night around 3 weeks after I’d moved into Fairbanks. I do this thing every time I move where I figure out the coffee shop I want to visit, sort of a safe space for me from the un-perceived. But I also do these late-night walks to figure out how the un-perceived in the area will react to my presence since the veil is thinnest from 12 pm to 3 am.

Thus, coffee and danger. Most of the time, nothing happens, but you need to be aware that you’re never alone, especially when it’s quiet.

I like telling these stories to other lines, people who can see and understand the un-perceived that is. It makes me feel understood. Less like I’m losing my mind some days, less like I somehow botched my psych eval.

And on that note, let me tell you a story from last week.

I was contemplating doing one of my coffee walks after doing a tonne of reading on a case file some of the “professionals” sent me that night when it happened. There were a few more instances that week where the smiling people had come up to me, smiled, stared, then disappeared.

I figure that they’re doing it to test me or something? Anyway, I was closing off my private server (because if you leave those open, then you’re gonna get hacked or die) and considering getting coffee when I was overcome with the urge to sleep.

You may not remember, but I said in my last post that I have chronic insomnia, and my going to sleep at a reasonable time is cause for concern based on the anomaly itself. So I get up, in this sleepy trance-like state I now know is not normal for just about anyone, and lay down in bed. Now, because I’m tired for once in my life, I actually start the process of falling asleep. Because I don’t normally do the thing called “sleeping at a normal time,” I can kind of describe what it felt like falling asleep this time.

It was kind of slow. Gradual is maybe a better word. It was some sort of dissonance in my brain that left me feeling blank and heavy at the same time. Then the white-noise buzzing sound started, and I felt as though there was something in the room with me. But I felt so heavy and distant at this point I couldn’t get my body to move.

You may have heard of the folktale of the Mare. A demonic entity or creature that sits on your chest with unnatural weight for its size and kills you in your sleep. They are the basis of “sleep paralysis.” I’ve never had a problem with sleep paralysis before- I have insomnia for goodness sake.

So my subconscious is already sounding the alarms when I’m feeling sleepy, and at this point, when I can’t move, there’s an air siren going in my head, and all of the red flags turned into those annoying red flashing lights from a rave.

Then this… thing started tugging at the covers on my bed, clawing its way up the side of the mattress. All I could do was lay there, paralyzed, while I’d rather be scrambling my way out and toward my concealed carry weapon -Smith & Wesson Model 13 revolver with all my pure silver bullets- but I’m stuck staring at my chipped paint ceiling as this thing is heaving itself onto my stomach.

The air wheezes past my lips as it plops down on my chest with what must be some sort of smile to show its content with itself; it was too dark in the room to make out any discernible features at that point. Then it just started to get… heavier. Like in the metaphorical sense where its presence filled my bedroom to the brim but also in the literal sense where I could feel my ribs start to ache and burn from the weight.

Then in the silence, where I started struggling for air, I remember a sharp crack, then pain. It spiraled from the right side of my chest and left, my nerves tingling up and down my spine. I wanted to throw up when the creature let out a wheezy-sounding laugh at my misery.

There were ten seconds of my life I thought I was going to die. And no one would remember me. And my corpse would rot and fill up my tiny house with stench. And no one would find me.

Then one of the smiling people appeared.

The thing startled me with a screech of panic as it rolled from my chest onto the ground with a thump and a second unholy sound. All I could focus on at that point was the fact I could breathe again, and the sharp pain my first inhale brought me. I shot up in bed, groping blindly for my sidearm, and shot the thing point-blank into its malformed skull three times. The first bullet went perfectly between its eyes, the second landed leftward in its forehead, and the last one slammed into the right of its gaping maw.

Putrid blood spilled as it jerked with the impact of the bullets and slumped onto my hardwood floors. I was clutching my chest with my other hand and shaking badly enough to rationalize that I was probably going into shock. While I still had the sense, I leveled my gun at the smiling man.

He was staring at me with a flatly blank expression and no smile when I turned, shaking hard enough to rattle my teeth in my skull and sucking in hard, painful breaths under my broken rib.

At the time, I thought maybe he’d stayed to finish the job that the Mare had been unable to complete with his random appearance. And even if he’d saved my life, I was going to shoot him if he’d taken another step forward.

He’d opened his mouth as if to speak when a scraping sound came from behind me, and I whipped around with my gun to make sure the Mare was dead and turned my back on the smiling man (which is dumb, you don’t ignore an alive un-perceived to make sure a more dangerous one was actually dead) and when I turned back around he was gone. I blame my shock on ignoring the more active threat. But I’m still alive now, so I may have passed whatever test they were trying to give me.

Next time I’ll explain the perceived for you guys.