In Her Mind

In Her Younger Years

When she was younger, she used to see them all the time. They would, sometime, try to talk to her and get her attention somehow. Some of them were nice and some hurt her. She would wake up with scratches on those times she met the super scary ones.

These things she called "them". It was simple, but it worked for her. It gave her the power to keep them from hurting her. Well, most of the time anyways.

The nice looking ones had a sense of peace, love, happiness, and would make her laugh. They mostly told stories of there past lives, well they all did but the nice ones she liked. Later in life these would be the Prue ones. These are the pure souls trapped any were from telling a loved one the miss them, to regret. Most of them needed to talk to someone to let them know something they couldn't before they past. Those ones gave her a sense of pride because she helped them from staying in a world they don't belong anymore.

Those ones who wanted to cause harm, she just called evil ones if she was referring to them all together. As she incountered them, she would give them each a name. The name, would match the personalized, craziness of each evil one. They would take on different forms; not always themselves. The energy they possessed was always intense. It would choke her, so she couldn't breath. She would be bathed in sadness, depression, gilt, anger, and/or fear.

One day, after she had been put to bed by her mother for the night, she was trying to sleep in her bed as long sharp claws started to come up the end of it. Each finger curling over the wood gripping it. She could see the curve of the top of his head start to come and rise. Her heart started racing and her breathing got shallower and shallower as this thing got taller. When it finally stopped, it was looming forward with its dark face looking right at her a few feet away from her head.

His face had deep sunken in eyes that were black masses of darkness. It was like she had fallen straight into despair as she stared in horror and the creature of death. That was it! Death! He was wearing a hooded cloke anyway so it seemed appropriate. Slowly he pulled away from her face and shrunk to the corner of her room.

At this point, she was so scared she couldn't move. There was a cold sweat, from her nerves, that had slicked her body making her P.J.'s damp clinging to her. Her room was in the basement so it was always chilly and in the winter time very cold. It was sizable but bare. Some dressers for clothes, and a twin bed with an end table in the corner. It had a lamp and digital alarm clock on it. Death was next to it.

He starting flicking the light on and off and on and off. She pulled the covers over her head yelling, "PLEASE STOP! YOUR SCARING ME!" The light flicked off for the last time and did not turn on again. She peeked out from under the covers after some time, and found that death was gone. That did not stop the footsteps going up the basement stairs, through the kitchen, into the living room, above her room. It was only until it seemed like he was above her that it stopped. She was hyperventilating by now.

She cried herself to sleep that night.