Entered

A man is cursed by demons and thoughts of suicide.
Fear is an emotion, as old as man himself. It is probably the single-most contributory emotion to his continued survival. I never asked for this gift of clairvoyance, nor did I ask for the fear that accompanies it. In fact, the fear disturbs me so much, that on more than one occasion I have contemplated suicide. So far though, the demons that come through to me have frightened me away from that path. You see, I don't get normal ghosts like other mediums, I tend to get the souls of murderers, psychopaths and the mentally disturbed. They don't come to me from another realm where spirits wait in patience for their loved ones, they tend to come to me from a darker portal, a cesspool of deviant monsters, the scum of society, executed for their crimes. It is not a gift that I have, it is a punishment. I have never been a pious man, nor am I evil. I cannot think why I am being punished!

Fear is a torment. It destroys the soul, kills the spirit and weakens the heart. It also courts insanity. It teases the mind with nightmares, infiltrates your waking thoughts and burns away at rationality and common sense until they become mere embers of a once proud and confident fire of identity. Sometimes I don't even know who I am anymore.

My name is, or was- John Bernard Robinson, named after my father, and my grandfather on my mother's side, (he being corporal Bernard Brownlow of the 43rd infantry division). I never met my grandfather as he was killed in action at Caen at the end of June 1944 during a German counterattack. I never met my grandmother either, as she was one of the countless victims of the blitz. My mother did survive the war, as she was shipped out as a refugee to a more rural area, along with countless other children who would end up orphaned by that great conflict.

After the war, my mother went to live with a rather elderly aunt, a spinster with no children of her own. So she must have had a rather lonely life. At least until she met and married my father. My father was a bit of a loner. A drifter since he left school, he'd worked with a traveling fair. More than that, I do not know anything of certainty about my family tree, as both my parents died when I was very young. In the orphanage where I spent my youth, they told me that my mother had died during childbirth and that my father had followed soon after, apparently the victim of a broken heart.

Most of my youth was spent as boys of my age group spent their youth, a little adventure in the parks, woodlands and lakesides in the local area. During one such an adventure, at the local lake, when I was 15 years old, I had a near death experience. It was a warm summers day and a few friends and I had gone to the local lake for a swim. I vaguely remember getting into some difficulty, the currents pulling me down, I don't think I even had time to shout for help. My friends must have seen something though, for I could hear dull splashing and yelling from the surface. I couldn't see anyone though, everything went pitch black.

Then I saw a pinpoint of light that seemed to grow, seemed to pull me towards it, to draw me upwards. I couldn't resist it, wasn't sure if I even wanted to, I just allowed myself to go with the flow, so to speak. At the end of this tunnel of light, a woman stood. She was very beautiful. She had blond hair and blue eyes and reminded me of an old photograph I used to own as a child, before the patron of the orphanage confiscated it. I don't remember where it came from, but I'm pretty sure it was a picture of my mother, aged around 21. As if to confirm my thoughts, the lady spoke to me. She called me by name, "John," she said, "My darling boy. You have grown into a fine young man. You remind me of your daddy, you look just like him. You mustn't fear the gift he gave you, you must utilize it. Find a way to live with it. But most of all, you mustn't pass it on!"

I opened my mouth to ask her what she was talking about, but she raised her hand and shushed me. She said, "It's not your time yet, you must go back. I shall wait for you here." With that, I felt myself hurtle back into the cold black water. The next thing I remember is coming round on the edge of the lake, my head spinning with the strangest feeling of dread and fear, but at the same time, I was overawed by the strangeness of the dream. I didn't have a clue what it could mean. I never told any of my friends about it.

Ever since then I have been plagued by the visions. Visions of the past, visions of the future. I started seeing ghosts, phantoms and ghouls, lost souls stuck in the purgatory of their past. I saw war, famine, death and destruction, I saw murderers, rapists, pedophiles, all the degenerates of society. Some of them were already dead, others were staring Death in the face, but all of them were tormented. All of them were tormenting. Each and everyone of them has an evil heart!

I was so afraid of them that I became a recluse, so frightened of the dark that I took to sleeping with the light on. I was afraid of the shadows, afraid of the wind... I was even afraid of myself. I wanted to end my life, but I couldn't even do that. I was too much afraid!

Over the years I have learned to live with my fear. I have come to realize that, that fear was the gift left to me by my father, although I don't know why he should leave me such a gift. But I do know that his gift has kept me alive. Living with my fear is not easy. I dread every waking moment and every hellish dream. Every little thought can be dreadful. My life is one big nightmare.

Sometimes I look at people and know they will soon die. I don't see death by natural causes, it is always death by murder or terrible accident. And it is always so tormenting to the victim. Sometimes I look in people's eyes and just know they are evil. I can never stop their crimes, but I am always proved right when their mug shots appear on the news or in the papers. I have tried sharing my gift with the police, but I can never prove anyone to be a killer until the deed has been done.

But the worst fear of all is the fear of the demonic spirits which torment me. Unremorseful of their crimes, they goad me into helping them. I have tried sending them into the light but their crimes are so cruel that they cannot be accepted there. I cannot send them down to Hell as it is from there that they are sent to me as tormentors. Such is the gift left to me by my father. I have become, like my father, a drifter. I own a caravan and move from city to city, town to town. It keeps me one step ahead of my tormentors, for a little while anyhow, before they catch up and I have to move on again.

A few months ago, I was visited by the obnoxious presence of a man. He was a loathsome degenerate, greedy, manipulative and evil to the core. He wanted me to send a letter to his wife. I refused to do so, but he insisted. For three days he tormented me. He'd smash my meager possessions on the floor of the caravan, turn lights on and off and disturb my sleep with constant scratching and banging. On the third night, he offered me a bargain. He said he would bring my father to me if I would help him. The offer was tempting. I picked up a pen and piece of note paper and started to write...

Dear Samantha, I wrote, I do not recall the rest, my hand merely held the pen and moved across the paper. I did not know where to send the letter to. I didn't need to know. When I woke the next morning, the note, which I had left on the table, was gone.

A week later I was visited by a man in my sleep. I was surprised to see that this man was not wicked like all the others. I knew immediately that this man was my father. He spoke to me as I slept. He explained everything to me. He apologized for the nature of the gift he had left to me. To the best of my knowledge, the extent to which my memory will permit, I write here, word for word, what my father said to me...

"I'm sorry son. I never meant for you to suffer this curse, just as my father never willed it on me, nor his father on him etcetera. You see, many generations ago, one of our ancestors was cursed by a witch. His crime was to report her devilish deeds to the authorities at the time. She cursed the male line, that each first son born would be plagued by demons until a new boy child was born, after which, the father would suffer a suicidal death. With the curse in tow, the family became drifters, each new town offering a little respite from the curse's torment. But the curse would never go away for long. When I met your mother, I fell in love, I loved her dearly with all my heart. She was never meant to fall pregnant, but fall pregnant -she did. The curse was to be passed on. I hoped and I prayed that we might have a daughter, but I knew in my heart that the curse was unbreakable. During the pregnancy, your mother and I done our best to keep the nature of the curse as secret as we could. We arranged for an orphanage in Edinburgh to take you, one as far away from us as possible, far away from any rumors concerning the tragic events that we knew would soon take place. We asked that the orphanage keep any rumor of the curse from your innocent eyes and ears. That is why you knew of your grandparents on your mother's side, but not of mine. We hoped that this would save you from suffering the curse.

Minutes after you were born, your mother hemorrhaged. The curse had taken her in the prime of life. She never got to hold you. Almost immediately, I was overcome by suicidal urges. These were not due to grief, although I was grieving for your mother, but I knew the urges were due to the curse. I fought against them.

I took you to the orphanage and left you there. My heart was breaking, but I had to do it, I had to at least give you a chance in life. For five more weeks I fought the urge to kill myself. In the end, the demons did it for me. In a trance-like state, I hanged myself from a tree in a wooded area near the M4 in South Wales. I am so sorry that the curse must be passed on to you son, and I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me!"

This, as far as I have the right to remember, is everything my father said to me in my dream. The demons had killed my mother and father. They only keep me alive that I may spawn another victim of the curse. And so I live on, alive because I live in fear. Fear of the dark, fear of the demons that torment me and fear of death itself. I know that one day Death will surely come for me, but until then, I shall keep on running, keep hiding and keep this curse to myself!

Author's Note

ignore grammar problems, what do you think of the dialogue