October 10

There's only so much a human being can stand and I can barely stand this. It's abominable. He caught someone and brought them back alive. Before my badly confused brain realized what was happening the victim ran toward me. He grabbed me howling mad with fear, help me, help me, help me, he begged.

Nothing makes you more afraid then seeing someone else's fear (well almost nothing). Eyes bulging, face pale, mouth in a horrified twist, his hands clung desperately to my body. The fear was so omnipresent and infectious, I could almost smell it. The only thing I could do was kick. So I kicked him, I kicked the man away and stumbled backwards gazing at the violent scene.

I was pushing my back against the wall, for once too terrified to even care about the corpses. Maybe I was hoping I could just sink into it and disappear, the Creeper dragged the man away, and with one more ear-splitting shriek he was dead.

Luckily it was dark, I couldn't see the death very well, but I could hear the screams, and the crunching of bones and the little excited noises the monster made as he ate. And I could feel the spray of blood across my face and neck.

I just fell to the ground, straight down. I couldn't even blink I was so petrified. I just sat there in shock not really seeing anything.

I don't now how long I was in that state; it seemed like a long time. I finally snapped out of it when I realized HE was in front of me.

There was blood still smeared around his mouth and my hysterical brain came up with a memory, (look! a little girl, red juice stained around her mouth, and there's my mother, scold, scold, cocinita, grab my chin, lick a rag, wipe my face)

He's prodding me, gently touching where the man had groped in desperate terror in what seemed like hours ago. Now he spreads my clothes open gently, as if I were seriously injured. And I'm gazing down at the forming bruises. Where the hell did those come from? I think dizzily. He seems to be examining me, and of course smelling me again.

Now he licks the man's blood on my face and neck. Thank you Creeper, thanks for cleaning me up and checking bruises and making sure I'm not dead but THERES A FLESH EATING DEMON LICKING A STRANGER'S BLOOD OFF MY FACE.

Everything's gone fuzzy again. The Creeper blurs in and out of my mind. I think I fainted.

A Few Days Later

He's torturing someone. I can hear the screams, not fake TV screams or giddy rollercoaster screams. Someone is being brutally killed just above me.

To make it worse the Creeper is running that old victrola, I hoped it would drown out the screams out but it just creates a gruesome mixture.

I don't care what the weather man says,
When the weatherman says it's raining,
You'll never hear me complaining, I'm certain
the sun will shine, I don't care how the weather vane points

Something snaps.

When the weather vane points to gloomy,
It's gotta be sunny to me, when your eyes look
into mine;

A scream for help

Jeepers Creepers! Where'd ya get those peepers?
Jeepers Creepers! Where'd ya get those eyes?
Gosh all git up! How'd they get so lit up?
Gosh all git up! How'd they get that size?

Is he ripping out someone's eyes?! That would fit in with his sense of humor.

Golly gee! When you turn those heaters on,
Woe is me!

More irony

Got to get my cheaters on, Jeepers Creepers!
Where'd ya get those peepers? Oh Those weepers!
How they hypnotize!

Where' ya get those eyes?

Won't you put me wise?

Paid to advertise!
Wheeeeeer'd ya get those eeeeeeeeeeeeeyes?

No more screaming.

The annoying songs stops, sputters and restarts itself

I'm sitting there trembling in shock, I cry. this can't be real this can't be real. This has to be a bad dream.

I'm feeling queasy again. I've seen enough death and sickness and evil to last a lifetime. How long till this happens to me? A human being was just brutally tortured and killed one room away from me and I did…nothing.

There was nothing you could do

I could have tried

Tried what? Begging? 'cause that's the only way you could have stopped him.

I could have done something.

I feel like shit. How can I not be changed? How can my mind not be affected by living with this monster, seeing him kill, seeming him eat? Being forced to-

And I realize something, as Glen Miller's In the Mood starts playing; if I can live through this, even if I can get away from him, my psyche will never again be normal.

My mind is a sewer that will never, ever be clean.

15

Threw up. Nothing I could do but sleep and watch my memories being constantly recycled into nightmares. Maybe a mind has to "chew" on bad things for a while in order to neutralizes them. Until then...

Unkown

I woke up briefly. I'm in the upper room; he must have carried me up here. I open my bleary eyes and see him at his desk whittling a bone. He takes no notice of me.

I close my eyes and turn over.

Unkown

Sleep and nightmares.

I don't know

I woke abruptly after a startling dream. It was starling in the fact that it wasn't a nightmare, I dreamed of my mother.

I was laying down, I think; looking up at her, next to her was a dark old woman who reminded me vaguely of my grandmother, or a bruja on Spanish novellas. She said something that unclearly sounded like:

He's growing fast. He's dreaming of the outside, he's dreaming of his mother's face and of the food the he will bring him. He's dreaming of that food.

She said this in what sounded like Spanish, but who can tell in a dream? And my mother, she looked so worried. She leaned down over me and felt my forehead, as though I were a child with a fever.

Don't be afraid I will-

My mind jerked abruptly into consciousness. My eyes were wide open at such an odd dream, my hands-

The Creeper, his eyes were fixed on me and there was something in his look that I didn't like. My hands flew over the buttons of my blouse, and I kept my eyes on the Creeper.

My clothes seemed fine; the Creeper continued to glare at me steadily. What does he want? He's eyeing me with what looks like distaste, like my father did when I slept in on the weekends, I quickly pull myself up.

Maybe too quickly for the blood leaves my head and I tilt wildly to one side. I'm pretty sure I'm going to fall but of course he moves too quickly and catches me before I come close to the ground. It's slightly reassuring despite the horrible memories his touch, smell and presence evoke.

Then there's that feeling, the acid in my throat. I plead quickly.

"Oh I'm dizzy," I say in a weak scratchy voice, "I need air."

He instantly complies and forces open the stairwell door again, and I cannot get out of there fast enough. I'm gasping and rushing up to the church and out the main doors. Before I realize it I'm outside.

I'm still so woozy; everything just seems blurry and weird, like when I drank too much vodka and it made me nauseous. And I can smell everything. The asphalt in the sun, the grass, the trees, the old wood of the church, and even…oh, that's shit. It smells like old dog shit.

And that's enough to trigger it, I'm hurling what feels like every meal I've ever eaten onto the dirt beside the church stoop. All of it, there's really nothing that makes you feel grosser than puking. As if I don't feel grimy enough. Ugh.

There's absolutely nothing I can do but wait I'll it stops, and I empty everything in my stomach. I dry heave a few times and then stop completely, shivering in misery on the front steps. After a while the nausea and the lightheadedness passes. And I'm able to stand up. I look around and I'm surprised to see the Creeper standing silently behind me, looking with what seems like mild astonishment at the amount of vomit on the ground.

Somewhat sheepish I turn around and try to walk away, but instantly he grabs me.

Now his touch isn't remotely helpful, he grabs my arm trying to restrain me. Now a sudden anger flares in me again, I know it's stupid and probably suicidal but I can't help but snap viciously at him.

"I'm not going back in there! I won't go back in that place! I'm fucking sick, and I don't need to be around a bunch of fucking sick corpses, so let go of me! LET GO OF ME!"

He snarls and restrains both of my arms which are waving wildly and uselessly in an effort to get away. My long hair is like a rats nest, unkempt and all over the place. Then, unsurprisingly, he starts to smell again, taking deep shuddering breaths all around my body, lower until he's hovering over my lower abdomen and nether regions sniffing deeply. His hands start to roam now, carefully running over me.

It's so odd and awkward that I actually look around in embarrassment. This stretch of highway may be desolate but it's still a public place. How would it look to a passerby? The bizarre tableau of what (looks) like a man sniffing a girl like a horny dog.

Finally he relents and stands erect, however he still has his grip on my arm. I throw all my weight back and protest noisily, he responds by simply letting go. I of course fall embarrassingly on my ass.

Bastard, I think as he laughs his strange laugh, I scramble back up and glare at him, he merely grins back.

"Go to hell", I whisper with as much venom as I can put into my words. Then I abruptly turn around and stomp away.

Later

I'm leaning against a tree watching it's leaves slowly fall. Luckily HE has decided to give me a bit of space, I can see him, and he can see me, but I don't care. I'm away and I'm outside of that church, that's all that matters.

My anger has burnt out, and now I'm filled with an empty hollow feeling. Tears prick my eyes, but I resist letting them fall. I hate letting the Creeper see me cry. A wish begins to form in my mind and almost escapes my lips. I wish for a car, I wish for someone to see me. I wish to get out of here. I can't of course but I still wish it. I wish I was home, or at school I just want to be away.

I begin fantasies of escape, I leave the church while the Creeper is sleeping-no wait he never sleeps, while he's hunting then, he's out busy and he doesn't notice me and I slip out. Then I hitchhike, but that's a potential danger too, well I get away anyhow. I leave this area. I leave his hunting ground. I do not look for a phone, or the police. I just leave and put it all behind me. It never happened.

I really don't know why he wants me. I really don't. Maybe he will let me go eventually, or he'll ignore me to the point I can leave, I don't know. But I want to leave as soon as I can, maybe I can still go to school…

While I'm thinking my eyes are closed, and I'm so absorbed that I don't here the sound, I think its part of my fantasy, Then my eyes open, it is the sound of a car engine. I glance around behind me thinking it's the BEATNGU. No the Creeper is fiddling under the hood (how did he learn to do that?) but it's not on, the engine is not running.

Against all hope I turn to the road, yes it's a car approaching! I stare at it like it's an approaching unicorn or a mythical…demon. The very thing I wished for! It's too good to be true. They won't stop though, I tell myself. I wrap my arms around my self and stalk closer to the road trying to get a better look. A chill wind blows my tangled hair.

I stand cautiously on the road peering out towards the car; it's a small red car. Kinda old. Kinda ugly. Nothing I would ever choose, but it's a car. They're not going to stop, I remind myself. I don't stick out my thumb or wave or anything. I want them to stop, but I'm afraid. I stare desperately, hungrily at them.

Then to my shock, and tentative delight, the car slows, I can feel the driver's eyes on me, she finally, slows completely and breaks. I'm still as a statue. The car has stopped.

A window rolls down; a middle aged woman peers out. Kind of plump, graying hair, a farmer's wife?

"You need some help honey?" She asked with a brassy voice, eyeing me with slight suspicion.

"Um…" I say stupidly, I don't know what to say. What can I say? I'm just happy to hear a human voice. And one with some kindness in it too! Happiness-an alien feeling-spreads over me. I just nod and smile politely.

Her eyes shift and look behind me, "Car breakdown?" My eyes widen with realization, she's talking about the BEATNGU, and I spin around and look at the Creeper with his truck. From our distance, wearing his coat and hat he looks like a man. She doesn't know I thought wildly.

"No, no, no, no." I say desperately. The woman reminds me of Elsa Daniels, and if I keep talking to her, or get into the car, she'll meet the same fate. "No, I'm fine. You can leave."

The woman's cool grey eyes widen in surprise. To my regret she matter-of-factly turns her engine off and begins a lecture:

"Look Missy, I stopped because you look like you need help," she eyed me with what looked like some distaste. I feel slightly socially conscious now, I must look like crap. "You look desperate, there's something in your eyes."

I do want help, I think, but I can't do anything. This woman will get hurt by HIM. As if by premonition I feel his eyes. I turn around once more and I see he's stopped. He's staring at us. I can't see his eyes, but I can feel the hostility, the suspicion. He begins striding toward us.

Now in a panic I return to the woman. "I'm fine, but you have to leave. Now."

She stupidly opens her mouth to argue but I pounce forward a little, my eyes wide. "LEAVE NOW!" I hear myself shriek. She jumps back and starts the engine, staring at me with a look people only reserve for madmen, a mixture of surprise, hostility, what's-your-problem questioning and a hint of pity. She revves up the car and drives off, gazing at me in suspicion, I look hopelessly back. My one chance.

I feel his hand on my shoulder, but I ignore it and continue to watch the speeding car. He tugs more violently and insistently and I have no choice but to be dragged back to the church. I refuse to be forced down into the basement. I stay in the upper room, staring blankly at the crucifixion. He shrugs and goes back outside to mess with his car again. He locks me in.

The sunlight is more… pronounced here. Some stain glass still remains and I see it making colorful patterns on the floor. Another memory unexpectedly appears. When I was small I used to try and catch the light in my hands and take it home. My mother and older siblings teased me good naturedly by telling me I could do it if I tried hard enough. I remember other silly, funny little aspects of my life. I'll never continue my life again; my one chance just drove away.

I look up around at the church it seems similar to a Catholic church, but simpler, not as many icons or statues. This is a protestant church, maybe Episcopalian. I look up at Christ, wondering.

I think I did a good thing. If I had acted on my selfish desires and got into that car that woman would be dead, or worse. He would have killed her as surely as he would have killed poor Elsa. I still feel bad, and miserable and afraid. But the fact that I did something good makes me feel a little better.

I look up at Christ again, and feeling foolish, I slide off the pew into the floor. I beg for help silently. Now I feel hypocritical, I haven't talked to God since my mother died, now I turn to him for help?

But I have no where else to turn to. I don't know what to do, and who else to ask for help when fighting a demon? I continue to pray silently, repeating all the prayers learned in childhood. Ave Maria, Padre Nuestro, My Guardian Angel, it becomes almost a mantra. In retrospect the familiarity and rote practicing is probably what comforts me. The prayers evolve into reassurances: I did the right thing, I can escape, I can escape.

I'm so caught up in myself, sitting on the floor, thinking, comforting myself, I don't notice HE has come back. How long he was watching me I don't know. He was very quiet.

I jump up, suddenly self- conscious. I lower my eyes as per my habit, but I watch him underneath my eyelashes. I watch his face. His eyelids are half lowered in boredom, butthere's something sardonic in his look. I feel foolish again, but then his look changes. His eyes widen and his head tilts slightly. He's watching me, and studying me. I really don't like his expression.

I'm led down to the basement again, where I sit quietly thinking of escape plans. He eats some meat he has saved. No live people thank God, and he works a little more on his "art." I look to see him making a knife, shiver, and look away again. I close my mind to him. I ignore him. Still I cannot help feeling his eyes on me. He's planning something, thinking about me. It's making me very, very nervous, but I ignore it

I repeat the idea like a mantra: I can escape, I can escape, I can escape. It makes me feel better. But something more vague than the Creepers plotting is in the air. Something is going to happen, but I don't know it. No, I do know it, but I don't.

Puzzled, I focus my mind. Something is different, something is happening. Something I don't like, but what?