Short Scary Stories

I found journals of an agoraphobic man who lived in a haunted house. P. 2

(warning: long story)
Well, frankly speaking, there's no point in drawing out an introduction, so here we go.
January 2nd, 2013
Another New Years spent alone, watching TV, wallowing in my own self pity. On top of that, I'm fucking terrified. The visitor stayed in the attic since the first time he appeared in my bedroom doorway. Until about 1am this morning. I woke up again, and this time, he was in my room. The moonlight shone through my window and partially illuminated him. He has long stringy hair, abhorrent yellow eyes, and his lower jaw hangs down, much farther than it should. It looks almost like it's unhinged. He has rotting teeth and if I'm not mistaken, putrid breath. He was wearing tattered clothing, I actually think his apparel was some of my clothes from the attic. He stood there for two hours, at the halfway point between my bed and the doorway. I tried...I really did try to say something. But I couldn't. The only movement he made besides his chest heaving in and out from breathing was his eyebrows arched, giving him an angry look. Just when I thought he couldn't get any more terrifying, he changed his expression to mad. When he was satisfied, he turned around and went back to the attic. I don't know how he gets up there, because the attic chute doesn't come down (it's very loud), but he always ends up standing directly above my bed.
January 18th, 2013
He comes every night now. Since the last time I wrote in here, he's been here every night. I don't sleep anymore. I tried going to my couch, but he just came to the archway in my living room. He just breathes very heavily, watches me, and leaves. Then goes up to the attic and ends up directly above wherever I'm lying. I can't deal with this. I don't know what to do.
January 20th, 2013
Anne spent the night at my house last night, and of course, nothing happened. I don't know what the hell to do.
February 19th, 2013
I have to leave the house. I can't leave the house. I have to leave the house. I can't leave the house. I have to leave the house. I can't leave the house I have to leave the house. I can't leave the house. I have to leave the house. I can't leave the house I have to leave the house. I can't leave the house. I have to leave the house. I can't leave the house.
February 28th, 2013
Whatever this thing is has become more malevolent. At about 3am last night, I got up to use the bathroom. When I walked out, the hallway light bulb exploded, and a chair flew across my hallway from the living room to my kitchen. I spent the rest of the night in my bathtub with the light on. I got up this morning and walked into my kitchen, splinters of chair littered the ground. As I was cleaning, all of my cabinets opened and one by one, my dishes were pushed out onto the floor. I had a panic attack and woke up face down on my living room carpet. I don't know how I got there. He probably put me there. He probably moved me. I don't know if I'm just going crazy, or if this is really happening. It doesn't make sense. I wish I knew.
March 9th, 2013
Last night, something that hasn't happened before happened. People started walking by my windows. Slowly. Looking in. They all had the same yellow eyes as whatever the thing is that harasses me inside my house. They all had the same weird hanging jaws. After about 3 hours of them just walking back and forth, they stopped. Two at each window, and stared at me until the sun rose. Then they just walked away. The one inside the house just wandered around in the attic all night, stopping right above me every 15 minutes or so.
On top of that, my television kept going on and off. Even after I unplugged it. It kept going on to the channel I had it on, CNN, stayed on for about five seconds, and then shut off. Today, I stood at my front door for four hours, contemplating leaving. I don't know who I'm trying to kid. I'll never leave. I'll die in this house. Nothing can change that. These things are going to kill me. I can't do anything about it. Maybe I should just kill myself.
April 1st, 2013
They filled in my living room last night. Everybody came from some unknown entrance into my home, and they gathered in my hallway, right up to my bedroom. And if that wasn't enough, they hummed. Not a song or anything, just a barely audible, monotonous tone. For two hours. Then they all left. WHAT THE FUCK WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME I DONT BOTHER ANYBODY WHY CANT I LEAVE I WANT TO LEAVE
June 8th, 2013
The big 4-0 today. And I'm a huge pussy who can't leave his house. I've boarded up all my windows and barricaded the back door. I put a board over the attic chute, and it still doesn't help. They still show up, they still hum. It's like I'm living with roommates. I now sleep during the day and stay up at night, staring into yellow eyes and being overcome with the gut-wrenching stench of their breath.
June 13th, 2013
Mary said I have to try to figure out where my "irrational" fears are coming from. Irrational....bullshit. But I was thinking about it, and I remembered a nightmare I had when I was a young boy. I would start off in the pitch black, but I would already know I was in my childhood home. I would feel my way around, and the walls would be sticky with an odorous grime that would cling to my fingertips when I removed them. I would then reach the door to our enclosed porch and exit to the almost-outside. When I finally got out there, the pure darkness before me would little by little start to be lit up by yellow eyes. Once I realized what was happening, I would get scared and try to find my way back inside, but in the dark I wouldn't be able to find where to go. The walls would become soft and collapse into a sea of the filthy sludge that was the walls. I guess the only applicable part to take from this is the yellow eyes. I don't know if they mean something, but they are the same eyes I see every night by the crowd that gathers to watch me (attempt) to sleep.
July 5th, 2013
There was a part of me, deep down inside me, that KNEW I was just being crazy. It has been over a year of being terrorized by these things, and I've gotten used to only sleeping a few hours a night because of them. But part of me knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they are not real. Mary said so. My sister said so. I knew it. Until last night. I was laying on my couch, I don't know if I mentioned it but I do not sleep in my bedroom anymore, haven't for some time. But I was laying there, and only the one, the very first one I ever saw, showed up. I sat up and looked him dead in the eyes. Then he started inching closer to me. It took some time for him to reach me, but I couldn't do anything about it. This was a whole new fear for me. This hadn't happened before. I closed my eyes and repeated to myself that it wasn't real, that I was simply just crazy and seeing things. But then I felt it. It rested a finger in my arm and dragged it along my skin. It felt wet. Sticky, slimy. My closed eyes flooded with tears but I still was unable to move. Then it stopped. I opened my eyes and saw nothing. I heard the footsteps in the attic above me, but he was no longer in front of my face. I looked at my arm, and the light layer of hair that covers it was caked in a thin line of black grime. I was sure I was just hallucinating once more, and went to sleep, still too scared to get up. I slept for what felt like days. In reality it was about 5 hours, far and away the longest solid block of sleep I've had in months. I woke up feeling so rested. But the line on my arm was still there. Now a dried, chipping line of black sludge. The smell was too much to handle and I vomited. I have to leave this house today. That's all there is to it.
July 7th, 2013
It has been two days since I tried to leave my house through my front door. I have been on the floor of my living room since it happened. I haven't eaten or slept since. I am not safe anywhere. In my house or out of it. I opened my front door just a crack and saw the sunlight pour in, something I hadn't seen in over a month due to my blocking out all my windows. I felt the cool breeze of summer slip in through the slight opening, and it chilled me to the bone. I opened it a little farther, and that's when I heard it. The breathing. I took a peek out and saw him. I finally saw him in full light. He was disgusting. The breeze brought the smell inside and it attacked my nostrils once again, this time even more putrid, which I attribute to it baking in the hot summer sun on my porch. I was transfixed on the man's dripping body until I got my bearings and slammed the door shut. I got inside and collapsed from a panic attack. And I've been here since. I only moved to grab this notebook. I can't do this anymore. I just want to die.
July 9th, 2013
I got up last night finally. It was late at night, I don't remember what time, but I hadn't seen any of the visitors. Just heard the one up in the attic. I was feeling decidedly brave after what was basically an eternity curled up in the fetal position, so I poked at the ceiling of my kitchen with a broomstick three times. Whatever the thing up there is, responded in kind. Tap. Tap. Tap. I tapped three more times. Once again, he did the same. Tap. Tap. Tap. His responses frustrated me, being so calm and nonchalant. I jammed the broomstick up to the ceiling, creating a much louder tap. What happened next is what I would refer to as "an unreasonable response". There was a slam from the attic, that broke the glass outside of the boards that covered the windows in my kitchen. The light hanging from the ceiling dropped down to the floor, shattering everywhere. Plates and other dishes that were resting on the counter next to the sink fell to the floor; all of this creating a cacophony of sound that sent me right into another panic attack. I came to from this one fairly quickly though. I'm so tired.
July 18th, 2013
He spoke. He finally spoke. He told me I'm not allowed to sleep anymore. That's not right though, is it? I mean I have to sleep. I guess I'm going try to stay up as long as possible, and only sleep when I absolutely need to. Since I can't leave my house, I feel compelled to obey him. As stupid as that is. I don't know what else to do. I hate this. I just want to die.
July 21st, 2013
He can the tell me to awake..Not fairr. Why me when can't leave my house WHY ME WHY ME WHY ME WHY ME WHY ME WHY ME WHY ME
July 23rd, 2013
I'm pretty sure my body forced me to sleep after that last journal entry. I just woke up, and I slept for over 24 hours. I see my punishment for disobeying him. I have dried, smelly black sludge covering my feet. And it hurts. It stings. It's disgusting. I wish I could leave. But I know I can't. While I stay awake now all I can think about is slitting my wrists, while gripping a gun and blowing my brains out, while stepping off a stool with a noose around my neck, in a house that's been filling with carbon monoxide. If only the world were so perfect.
Whatever he is, is angry. He's been tearing my pictures and things off the walls, tore the ceiling fans out of my two bedrooms, and broke the glass on the rest of the windows of my house. Next time he comes down from the attic, I'm going to try to talk to him, even though when he appears I get a wave of fear over me that's utterly paralyzing. I think since I'm so nihilistic now I just don't care. If he kills me, good.
I've decided to stop for tonight, it's getting pretty heavy.