I discovered Darkness Prevails about a year ago and have been enjoying your story telling ever since. I have thought about setting up shop somewhere on the web and writing some of my own experiences down for those interested to read and reflect on; but I get caught up in what to call myself for anonymity and how should I present it? I feel it is non-fiction even though how I perceived certain things as a child may not have been a true reflection of reality. Then it all gets put off for another day as I attend to the daily responsibilities of a husband and father. Today though I decided to share this one with you while it is still fresh in my mind. Albeit, a little different than the stories you share but creepy and possibly supernatural/paranormal all the same; or the results of some bad meat loaf. Few things are scarier to a 6 year old child than meatloaf for supper. I know I stared down my share of spiced meat blobs on a plate in my time. So this day wasn’t unlike any other, pretty typical. Work… augh!… home, start supper, take my wife to work, home, finish supper, serve the kids, in your uniform and off to an event or activity, back and forth on and on.. and on. We have only lived here a year; moving from a rural community in a river valley to a quaint little island city with it’s cookie cutter homes placed in their unimaginative subdivisions bordered by eerie soundless forests of pine planted in perfect rows of ten x ten. Everything here is done on purpose, deliberately, completely lacking organic form and feeling. Creating this un-alive pre-fabricated environment of complacency and false senses of security. It is a stark contrast to the places I am from where the forests are alive with birds and other animals. The creek and groan of the Maples, Oaks, and Beach along side the pop and snap of the poplar, birch, and aspen carried by the background swooshing of the pine, spruce, and fur as the winds passed through their branches accented by the many song birds the frequented my back acreage of my old place. My favorites would be the; white throat ed sparrow, Mourning Dove, and the Thrush's.  However I have work here that pays well, the kids have access to decent schools and a child friendly community. My wife is working at a job she enjoys and we are recovering from the employment issues we were having in our old home; so it has it’s good points. After getting the children tucked in, and some light cleaning in the kitchen and a quick few TV shows it was time for bed. I lay there looking at the ceiling with my wife beside me feeling a bit sick. I cannot remember what we had for supper but it was giving me bad gas pain that was keeping me up. I got up out of bed to head to the bathroom for some bismuth or anti-acids. As I bent over to open the medicine drawers under the vanity I let out a series of sickening burps that came out in a series of short and long stuttered belches that were all followed by extreme heart burn and chest discomfort. When they stopped I downed the last of the bottle of pink and took two anti-acids for good measure. I know that sounds odd but I am trying to avoid brand names. Despite feeling better sleep was still alluding me. I looked around the room to my phone and tablet but didn’t want the light to wake up my wife. Taking a book off my night stand I discovered it was too dark to read. So my eyes found the ceiling, then the closet, my feet peeking out of the bottom of the blankets. This went on randomly around the room to various things you would expect to see in a bedroom when something caught my eye. There on the floor by the bed was a booklet that I didn’t recognize. I leaned over the edge of the bed. Being careful not to awaken my wife I managed to get my hand close enough where the tip of my middle finger managed to tug it close enough where I could grab it. As I picked it up I slid myself into the bed, again being careful not to awaken my wife. As I got comfortable I looked over the booklet. It was one of those sketch pads. I opened it, the paper felt thin and delicate like cheap notepad paper. It was beige in color and harsh to the touch yet delicate and of poor quality. It reminded me of a paper we use to use in Elementary School called “foolscap” which I now know as a size and not a paper type. It was a cheap poor quality paper used for rough notes and sketches. I remember thinking, “who makes a sketch pad out of this crap?” as a flipped through it. As I looked it over I figure it was one of the kids. I have seen booklets like this at their grandparents and in Christmas stockings and care packages from home usually packaged with crayons. I always felt my kids were too old for these kinds of presents and they always ended up left somewhere they shouldn’t be like on the porch or in my car… or on the floor in my bedroom. I got a little irritated as I looked at it but decided to look at it to see what kind of art my kids were making these days. Both of my children are very artistic and competent musically. There are accomplished painters on both sides of their family. Even rock stars! Both me and my wife have family that have toured internationally in bands and I am positive my cousin opened for Matt Mays but it might have actrually been my brother in-law. My oldest is exceptionally good with line art. She drew a picture of a android warrior that I affectionately called Veger due to its striking resemblance to the Star Trek character of the same name. The first few pages were marked up with pencil that looked almost accidental. Each page seemed to have a few more marks than the last but it didn’t look planned or have any rhyme or reason to the marks. They were scattered; some dark, some light, long and thin, thick and black, here and there... As I perused the pages I began to notice that each page was identical to the previous only with some extra marks. Out of nowhere I started flipping the pages slowly. To my surprise I could see a picture taking shape in the form of an animation; one of my kids made a Flip Book Animation and it was fairly substantial and well done. The animation wasn’t like an animated scene like you would see on a cartoon but more of an animation of scene a scene being created. It was captivating to watch as an invisible hand was revealing the image hidden on the page with a majic pencil. I was enthralled with what I was seeing growing ever so proud when I realized the time and skill required to creat this; I was absolutely amazed and very proud. I continued to watch as the scenery, which began looking like our subdivision from the view out the front door, started being populated with animals, then people. I was feeling very proud as each line joined the page bringing more entities to the scene. Then suddenly I noticed something eerie; all the people looked too thin. I stopped flipping to study them; they all looked starved, thin and gangly. Their clothes hanged off them like they didn’t fit; they had a striking resemblance to pictures of starving war orphans or POW’s saved from work camps. Now in more of an observational/analytical mode I noticed other things like the trees looked particularly ratty and ragged. The homes had a crooked sense to them like they were all pushed in one direction enough to distort them but not enough to make them fall. The people seemed to be dressed in a similar way to how our neighbours seem to dress; I could almost say that one was John, and that’s Jane, and there is the Doe Family. The faces though didn’t look like anyone in particular; they didn’t resemble anyone from the subdivision anyway. Each person had a face that looked distorted and tortured. Their mouths open in agony staring at me with dark empty eye sockets. I was starting to feel really uneasy looking at them. Then I smiled and thought, “Wow! She is good!”. I have a dark sense of humour and especially enjoy art that can pull you in to its world. Even if that world is a post apocalyptic world populated with Mathieu Laca or Edvard Munch creations. I was still very impressed, so I began to flip the last few pages and saw one last entity taking shape. First some squiggly lines, then a v shape, and some gentle lines, then more squiggles and ahhh… It was a little girl wearing a dress. The squiggles outlined where the lace around her collar and sleves. The girl didn’t look like anyone I knew from the subdivision but I don’t pay too much attention to people. She looked like she was wearing an older style dress with what looked like poka-dots or flowers… I couldn’t be sure in the drawing. Anyway, I suddenly felt silly because I stopped before her head was drawn, so I flipped and heard a “throp” as the last page was the cardboard back of the booklet. It was all over. I laughed quietly to myself, “Poor little girl” I thought to myself, “’E’ must have ran out of paper”. I flipped back to the last page and looked at the scene again. I felt cold and drawn in, suddenly sleepy. I rolled to my side to put the booklet on the night stand thinking, “I can’t wait to show this to ‘A’ in the morning, that was damn cool.” As I rolled onto my back under my covers all warm my eyes fell to the ceiling. I gently rolled over to hug my wife and as I did my gaze fell on the doorway and I flipped! There was the headless girl coming into the room. Her movements were jerky and unnatural with spasm-ing arms and jerky shoulder movements. She rounded the dresser at the foot of the bed and was coming to my side. I could hear the thromp thromp thromp of her foot falls. I could see indeed those were black poka-dots on her dress of white with black stitching and white lace. What skin was exposed looked pale with bluish purple lines or veins running up and down her arms. I guess stereotypical dead person skin; hard for me to say since I never seen a dead person before. I kicked the bed, the blankets, frantically trying to get to my feet and away from… that! It was already between me and the only exits and I watched as she rounded the lower corner of my side of the bed and took her first steps in my direction. As her arm came up in a reaching motion the only thing I could think to do was scream. Scream and let everyone in this house know to get out! Back to the wall I let it out as loud as I could, but something was caught in my throat. I tried to push through it by forcing the scream harder creating an odd scratchy groan instead of a scream. I felt a hand grab my arm and a loud, “Wake Up!” I turned to look down at my Wife grasping my arm and looking up at me with a shocked expression. I was nearly standing on the bed, back to the wall. The carved accents of the head board digging into my back. I looked back to where the girl was and she was gone. As the relief came over me I slid back into the bed and rolled over putting my arms around my wife and tried to go to sleep. The next day at the end of the day before we went to bed my Wife asked me about the other night. I regurgitated the above. She asked if I was going to tell her friend about it, someone she knows who is a “medium” or claims to be. I said, “no, it was only a dream and I don’t believe in that stuff”. She looked at me unconvinced and said, “Ok, coming to bed?”. She walked off and I wasn’t far behind. Truth is I am not convinced it was just a dream. I have had bad dreams before and always forget them shortly after waking up leaving only a feeling and an impression of the incident. This one though sticks with me like a memory unlike a dream; the details were too real and triggered other memories. It has been 48h and I can still see how she moved around my bed to get to me. I didn’t tell my wife this but I am still scared; not for myself but for my oldest daughter. You see we have folk lore where we are from, call it a local legend, we call them forerunners. No, I am not talking about the Toyota; I am speaking of an entity that comes to us to warn of impending doom or an immediate danger or something bad to come. Stories range from the knocking three, three knocks on the door to make a sailors wife a widow. Others tell of entities appearing with grotesque injuries only to find a few days later they or someone they know had an accident resulting in the same injury they saw on the entity.

We call these forerunners; messengers of things to come, warnings from beyond. I don’t think they come to warn to change the future. If anything, a sighting means the outcome is set and we better get prepared. This worries me because my oldest likes vintage dresses, just like the one this entity was wearing. They both had a similar build and I would suspect if the entity had a head they would be of similar height. This actually only just occurred to me, this forerunner theory, while I was writing this down. Now this, this is real fear...
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Darkness Prevails
NEVER POST WITHOUT PARAGRAPHS
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ARabbitScream
NEVER POST WITHOUT PARAGRAPHS

Yeah; sorry about that. I don't know how it happened, there were paragraphs in the original (I wrote it out in LibreOffice first and copied it). I pretty much hit crtl+v and enter in one motion not noticing the issue. 
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Darkness Prevails
That's fine - Just edit it. Click the pencil or edit icon on the post.

EDIT: oh wait you don't have an account do you? I'll have to delete this, BUT go ahead and resubmit it first. With paragraphs of course.
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ARabbitScream
That's fine - Just edit it. Click the pencil or edit icon on the post.

EDIT: oh wait you don't have an account do you? I'll have to delete this, BUT go ahead and resubmit it first. With paragraphs of course.


The post isn't flagged as mine; I used the youtube link to get here and post it; my only option is to share it. Not sure if that can be changed, if not just delete it I will resubmit it later after doing some additional editing. There are many things in it I don't like, which is to be expected since it is the first thing I tried to write in more than 20 years.
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