text: April 4, 2020 I finally made it to Aunt Sasha’s house. I’m so glad I made it off the cruise ship- it felt like we weren’t ever going to get out of there. It is so nice to see Evan again. He is doing well, cute as ever. He doesn’t like online schooling and I don’t blame him. He doesn’t seem as energetic as he was last time I visited. I think the isolation is really affecting him, which is crappy to say about a five year old. Aunt Sasha and Uncle Matias are doing okay, considering their situation. It’s really nice being back here. I love this family and I’m so grateful I can stay with them until I get settled and figure out a plan. I don’t know where I’d be if I wasn’t here right now. They are amazing. I’m staying in the basement/guest bedroom, of course. I’m writing from in bed right now. I still don’t like sleeping down here. No matter how much time passes, I still feel scared when I turn off the lights to go to bed. Jeez, I sound like Evan- scared of the dark like a five year old. Ha. Time to put on my big girl pants and go to bed. Good night! And cheers to the first night off the boat- phew! April 7, 2020 It’s been a crazy couple of days. Lots of adapting and adjusting. Uncle Matias is working double-time at the hospital; I rarely see him. Aunt Sasha is pretty stressed out, with working from home, taking care of Evan and trying to keep the house afloat. I’ve been doing my best to help out. I mostly watch Evan, which Aunt Sasha is grateful for. He loves me and we have a good time. He sticks by my side, except when I go down to the basement. He won’t go down there. His playroom is there, opposite of my room, but he refuses. He won’t go downstairs without Aunt Sasha. I haven’t been sleeping well. To be fair though, I’ve never slept well in this room. It has always given me the creeps, especially at night. It feels like somebody is watching me. Two nights ago I could have sworn I felt something watching me from the closet after I turned the lights out. I wanted to run and hide under the covers of the bed but I made myself walk. It’s not real and I have no reason to be scared. I just have an overactive imagination- everybody says so. Though I swear I had closed the closet door before I went to bed. I’m sure it’ll be fine. And I’ll check the hinges on the closet door tomorrow. Til later. April 10, 2020 Things are going okay. Uncle Matias is home for good, the hospital is finally giving him a break. Aunt Sasha is less stressed out- she is so happy to have him back and healthy and safe. Evan is doing fine. But yesterday he told me something hella creepy. He asked if I had seen the tall man downstairs. I had gone downstairs to grab my laptop, and he asked me when I came back up. I was startled, and told him no, I hadn’t seen a tall man downstairs. He dropped it and snuggled up next to me as we watched Finding Nemo . The thing is, I think I have seen somebody downstairs, at night. It’s that feeling of being watched, constantly. Sometimes I’ll wake up in the middle of the night and the closet door will be open, even though I fixed the hinges and closed the door. I see him watching me from the closet. A tall man, with a broad rimmed hat and an evil smile, barely visible in the dark, hovering and watching. I force myself to shine my phone light in the closet, which of course, shows that nobody is there, just darkness. But when I lay back down, it feels like he’s still there, watching me, waiting. It’s been hard for me to sleep. I slept with the light on last night. It’s hard to fall asleep with the light on but when it’s on I don’t imagine gaunt men with hats and evil smiles staring at me from the closet. Ugh. Overactive imagination. This is why I don’t watch horror films. Maybe I should cut the Stephen King books too. Good night- til later. April 13, 2020 Evan has gone a bit crazy. He seems to think I’m in danger and doesn’t like me sleeping downstairs. He tells me he doesn’t want me to go to sleep, and he wants me to sleep with him. I asked him why he is scared, what he thinks will happen. This kid. He said he was scared that Tall Man was going to take me away and he would never see me again. That Tall Man would steal me into the closet and hurt me. I stiffened immediately and he felt it. He looked at me and started crying. He knew I had seen Tall Man, and that he was right. Aunt Sasha rushed in. I gave him a hug and carried him to his mom. She came to find me after he settled down. She explained that the Tall Man comes from a night terror he had when he was younger. She had put him down for a nap in the guest room, where I am staying now. A few minutes later she heard him screaming and ran into the room. She found Evan crying inside the closet. He had bruises on his arms and a scratch on his face. Evan told her a tall, mean man tried to pull him into the closet. Aunt Sasha chalked it up to a night terror and Evan stopped playing in the basement. That’s the news of the day. I won’t lie. I’m freaked out. Hearing things like that does something to your brain, you know? Logically I know that there is no man that comes from the closet. But emotionally, I am terrified. I am writing this now and I can feel him staring at me. He is waiting for the light to turn off. When I turn off the light, the closet door will open and I’ll see the brim of his hat and his skeletal fingers on the doorknob. I’ll close my eyes thinking I’m imagining it but when I open them, instead of him being gone, he is standing at the foot of my bed, watching me. I’m sleeping with the light on tonight. April 15, 2020 I think I’m going crazy. I haven’t been sleeping and I’ve been too scared to try to sleep with the light off. Evan screams bloody murder if I go down to the basement while he is awake. If he catches me coming up from the basement, he cries. I feel that way too, kid. I don’t know what to do. The seeing things in the dark, this paralyzing fear- it is easy to say it is all in my head when it is the middle of the day, but at night, turning off the lights and walking with my back to that closet, feeling like somebody is reaching for me the whole time- I don’t have the courage for that. It is fucking terrifying. It just... it can’t be real. That’s all. It can’t. Evan had a nightmare, and I must have heard about it last year. And now my anxiety is expressing itself through creating this imaginary monster based on Evan’s dream. It’s just a terrible coping mechanism for my stress. That’s all. I got this. Just a stressed, royally screwed up imagination. I need to figure out something though. I can’t sleep with the lights on and I’m scared to sleep with the lights off. I’ll figure out something, but not tonight. Tonight the lights are staying on. April 17, 2020 I tried sleeping with the lights off last night. I prayed first. I don’t pray. But I hadn’t tried it yet, so I figured it might help. It might make me feel safer. I fell asleep for a while- before waking up to goose bumps on my skin and seeing him next to my bed, reaching for my leg. I stifled a scream and forced my eyes open to stare directly where he was. The longer I stared, the less I saw him and the more I saw the closet. Which was wide open. I definitely shut the door before turning off the lights. My heart wouldn’t calm down. I could feel the blood pumping through my chest and in my neck. I couldn’t fall back asleep for the rest of the night- and I turned the lights back on. April 18, 2020 I’m crazy. I just woke up to somebody whispering my name. But it is three in the morning and everybody is asleep. Except for me- because I swear somebody said my name. He was leaning over my bed, his face was so close, that smile- he faded when I turned my flashlight on. And the fucking lights are out. I went to bed with my lights on. What the hell is going on???? Is this a dream? I must have imagined it. It felt so real but it can’t be. Right? That half dream, half awake thing. I mean, I feel real crazy right now. What about the light? I bet the power went out. That happens a lot here. And the door is open again, all the way. Of course. Holy shit. What the hell. My heart is going to jump out of my chest. I can’t breathe. I can’t even write straight. I can’t- Okay. I need to get it together. Reality check. The power in the house went out. That is why my light isn’t on. The closet door is broken. It swings open because there is something wrong in the foundation or the structure or whatever. And I heard my name called in my dream. I’ve woken up from that before. It’s fine. And rational. I’m fine. See? Nothing by the closet. No man, no person leaning over me. I just see... dark space. It’s fine. Okay. I’m going to check out the closet. I’ve had enough of this bullshit. I will be fine. I have my phone flashlight. It’s enough. I can handle this. IT ISN’T REAL. And then I’ll come back and finish my entry by writing about all the beautiful 800 count Egyptian cotton sheets or whatever the fuck my Aunt keeps in her downstairs closet. Then I’ll go upstairs and sleep on the sofa for the rest of the night. I know that in every murder film ever made investigating the noise gets you killed, but I have to do it. I have to prove to myself this isn’t real, and that all I need is double prescription for Xanax and a sleeping pill. Breathe. I can do this. It isn’t real. Be right back.