He’s Here.

Maddy’s journal Madelyn’s entry #1

I’ve decided to use my full name instead of the goto that everyone calls me, I mean my sister did tell me I should use it at my full disposal, so why not use it. It’s the name I use in my head when talking about myself or making up conversations when I’m watching others. Trust me I’m always watching (cue the eerie violins, or maybe the X-files theme?) but yeah, Madelyn sounds so much more mature, like Madelyn has her shit together, but Maddy is pouring her feelings out in a journal because she’s having crisis after crisis. It’s not like anyone will ever read this and see that I am having inner turmoil struggles with my own mind, about what name to call myself. 

Today’s been interesting, I’ve been majorly productive, taking my meds (for you, Eve, just in case you decide to eavesdrop on this journal) but honestly, I’m perked up today, and that’s not just the girls. I feel Sunkissed in this coffee shop today (totally sounds like some lame country song) I have a great book in my lap, and a cup of something, I don’t really remember ordering, but it’s sweet, and I’m enjoying today.

He’s here again.

When I picked up the journal, I figured it was empty, and not a personal diary of sorts. So, when I shut it, I had only fleeting feelings of regret. It’s never right to read personal thoughts, even if they’re written down before you.

The journal was tucked inside the seat of the back booth, so I figured Madelyn simply had forgotten it. It wasn’t much, its spine was broken, its edges brand new, like it had barely been touched, their writing on more than one page, so I knew it was being used. I flip through it, coming back to behind the cover page. ‘if found, burn, do not return.’ It’s written, no explanation as to why. I take a huge breath in, and a feeling overcomes me like someone’s watching, and I think it’s this Madelyn like she’s been watching me the entire time, from somewhere I can’t see, making silly voices in her head about me. Coldness seeps in, chilling my bones, so I drink my coffee, pay, then hurry home, hoping I won’t feel as guilty or watched from the comfort of my own home.

I’m home, undressed, comfortable, with a glass of red, its sweet aroma emanating from the glass in my hand, the dark red in contrast to the dark green journal in my other hand, waiting to be opened. I had made plans for dinner tonight but threw them out the second this journal walked inside my home with me. I had a date with this Madelyn person and her personal thoughts, she was quite the imaginative woman, and quite unnerving the way she rambled, but I was soon to be enamored with her so-called diary.

I hadn’t planned on what to do after, maybe throw it away, or burn it like the book said, or I could return it to the coffee shop, in hopes she would return for it, playing like I had never touched it, read it, or even brought it home for some sick date. I take another sip of my wine and eye the dark green cover, wondering what I would find inside, what secrets one person could hold.

Madelyn’s entry#2

He.

Madelyn’s entry#3

The clouds are grey, today is Thursday, and I am sipping on a black coffee this time, take that Mr. Journal, or Miss, shit I really hope I didn’t misgender you. Yeah, I think my sister is right, I should take my meds. Although she’d never hear that from me because I’m talking to a journal, I’ve tried to start an everyday journal, but who’s got that much time, I mean I do, but also who’s got that much to talk about. Eve told me to just talk about my days, like the weather, how many people I’ve talked to, things I’ve done or seen, but that’s so boring. I’d rather make up conversations for others in my head.

Great idea#1 I can write down what I’m seeing right now.

“Honey?”

“yes, sugar”

“When are we gonna buy that lake house on Lake Winnipesaukee?”

“Mary, lake winnamahuh? We got a lake in the backyard. You know, where we can fish and hunt anytime we want. “

“Oh Merle, you know that lakes full of bodies, that’s where he keeps them.”

“They’re floating a lot more often Mary, we ought to dredge it, or go for a swim ourselves.”

“You’re right, what was I thinking, we can’t leave that lake behind, who would he watch, when He’s Here.”

Madelyn’s entry#4

Is.

Madelyn’s entry#5

It’s bright out today, almost unbearable, and today there’s not many around me, the quietness is almost as disheartening as I’m used to the constant chattering of patrons, at the normal coffee spot, no, today I thought I’d getaway at one of Eve’s favorite spots, the Library.

The library comes with cool amenities like free computer access, and there’s even a small rose bush garden on the outside, with bees buzzing around it, and I’d been watching it for the past hour now. the book I grabbed was opened to a random page, so others didn't find me suspicious, even if I had yet to turn a page. 

I counted 1,2,3,4,7 of them flying around the garden, and I named them all. 

Henry, Ernie, Samuel, Howard, Edward, Ricardo, and Eddie.

They’re like little worker bees, buzzing in and out of the bush garden, it’s almost impressive how they come and go, always regrouping when need be.

I wish I could be a bee sometimes, shirking my responsibilities as a human, but then I think of the term, ‘worker bee’ then I think that maybe just not being…

Blah blah blah, Eve says that I shouldn’t think like that. ‘It isn’t very becoming of you’ is what she would say. I wanna tell my sister that being nosy and giving your little sister a useless journal to write in, isn’t very becoming of her. I wanna tell her that he’s still there, no matter if I write, distracting myself, he’s never gone, just there, some days close, some far, but never out of sight, day by day. Every time I close my eyes, I feel like I wanna keep them closed, and drift off.

I’m so tired.

Madelyn’s entry#6

Here.

Madelyn’s entry #7

So, I’ve made the mistake of drawing Him. I’ve madE him true; I’ve made him come to me. He’S closer now tHan bEfoRE, like thinking of Him makES Him comE to life, gives him something to gRasp, and I’m scarEd, of not just the drawing, those dark tumultuous eyes, blaring off the page over an obscure wHitE face. It lookS mask-like like its porcelain was sHattEREd and put back togetHEr, the life taken away from it. It abSolutely terrified me, that picture, so I bawled it up and burned it, not even leaving a crisp of evidence. NotHing bEsides the papeR disappEar tHough bEcauSe it’s in my HEad, REaching out. I feel as if I’m losing grip on wHats rEal or shouldn’t be, a Semblance of my HEad is completely scREwy and loose.

Evelyn, if you do come across this journal, burn it, for me please, don’t dig into it, it’s always there, we just don’t see it, so please burn this up and leave no traces of it behind. I beg of you as your baby sister.

Madelyn’s entry#

There’s nothing of it, nothing at all, it just appears, like the shadow glances that seem to appear in your peripheral vision, I don’t know why he’s here, I didn’t mean to bring him to life, to give him something more of me than I intended, I’m scared, I don’t know how much longer I have or if he’ll even get any closer, all I know is that HE’S HERE.



I turn to the next page, only to find nothing, there are no more entries, It’s all blank like the former pages were all placed there after the journal was put together. The ware on the pages used was significantly a lot more rugged than the latter. Rubbing my eyes and yawning, I closed the notebook before throwing it onto the nightstand beside me, which sent my alarm clock crashing. It barely made a noise when it hit the carpet, and I sighed at my own misfortune, but I was glad I had splurged for carpet instead of laminate.

The journal was riddled with the cryptic message, ‘He’s here’, like an unorthodox puzzle. Was it on purpose, was this not somebody’s journal, and their attempt at writing some cheesy horror novel? Should I just drop this back off where I found it, hoping the owner shows themselves? Maybe they had a hit on their hands, but in mine, it was just the ramblings of somebody who should have listened to their sister and taken their meds. I wasn’t necessarily freaked out, my nerves were on edge a bit, after straining myself to read that nonsense. The wine had calmed me down, just before I put the damn thing down. This Madelyn was fucking crazy, she must have been off her rocker, so it was definitely easy to see how she lost her journal.

I stretched my feet out and over the edge of the bed, feeling for the carpet between my toes. I groaned and moaned as I got to my feet reaching for the faced-down alarm clock. My knees cracked when I picked it up, light in my hand, it was a gift from my baby sister. ‘so, you never miss another meeting again’ Little did she know, I never set the damn thing, so I was always cutting it way to close anyways, but I still kept it in place to look nice and tell the time.

I brushed the face-off of the red numbers flickering back and forth, telling me that it was already this late, 11:34pm. Meaning I had to get up in just a couple hours. I hadn’t even read that much in that journal, but it still overtook my day and my reading time for tonight. On my nightstand sat two books, one was Horror Fantasy, and the other was that sleazy green journal. I was upset I had picked the weird one to read tonight, I had let this weirdo journal get into my head, making me jumpy, and now sleep deprived, trying to deep dive into what was just one woman’s rambles. I yawned, taking another look at the alarm clock, noticing the time change of one minute, but it wasn’t the time I noticed.

I dropped the clock again, falling back onto my bed, shrieking in the process, then looking behind me at whatever the hell was in the clock’s plastic mirror view behind me. Nothing was behind me; I even went as far as to check the curtains in front of my windows which were closed shut. Nothing should have been able to peek in, let alone show up so clearly in the alarm clocks, plastic reflection. I held onto my stomach looking at the alarm clock, studying its black reflection, behind every flicker of red, but nothing was there. I chalked it up to that damn journal getting into my head. “He’s here” I spat, telling myself I would put the damn thing back in the same spot I found it, whether that looney came back for it or not.

I decided to take the day off, not because of lack of sleep, which I was inhumanely tired, but because I had to return this journal, and I would wait at that coffee shop, or even that library until I found this woman, and forced her to tell me that she was crazy, or this was some random experimental horror novel because it damn well scared the hell out of me. That long messy white hair, the ominous face, and those damn eyes. It was like she described it in the book, those damn eyes, pitch black, and that ruined my night of sleep, her not-so-subtle hints of something coming after her freaked me out enough to imagine I saw something similar.

After waiting the whole morning for this woman to come, I soon realized I didn’t know what this woman even looked like. I also didn’t even know what library she could be talking about in the journal, I was at a complete standstill. So, I asked the baristas, and they told me they didn’t know a Madelyn or an Eve, so I canceled my stakeout at the coffee shop, also realizing that if she were to come back, she would have already.

After some googling, I found the nearest library, which was within walking distance, so I assumed it had to be this one because the other ones were miles away, and with how shaky this Madelyn was, I doubt she was driving. When I entered the library, it was cold, the inside smelled of sweets and strawberries, the mix of vanilla wafting in from the gift shop nearby. I walked up to the desk, and just said it, hoping to lie on the fly, and get the information as fast as I could.

“uhm, maybe you both can help?”

They looked at me like librarians do, sweet aunts and mothers coming to your rescue, no matter the question, nodding.

“I’m looking for my sister” I lied. “you see, her name is Madelyn” the librarian's eyebrows perked up at the sound of the name. “I and My Sister Eve are looking to see if she’s been here,” I added the name Eve in hopes of maybe a connection, something to that eyebrow raise.

“oh, Evie’s younger sister,” the librarian said to her coworker, next to her, nudging her arm, as if in recognition of both names. “we haven’t seen Maddy in a while, nor Evie, but they do stop by every so often.”

They laughed, cheer in their voices, and it pissed me off, so I said, “She’s missing.” Letting the words sit between us, letting their cheerful faces sit with that information on Evie’s little sister. Of course, I was lying, but because she hadn’t been here in a while, I could use this to my advantage.

“if possible, I was wondering if I could get the information, she has under her name.”

The ladies looked at me warily, so I had to spin another line, “Only because, you see, she’s troubled, and the numbers we have aren’t going through, and she’s not at her place, so I was hoping to get a clue, like maybe she put a different address or number inside the system, one only she knows, where she might be.” I had pulled most of that out of my ass, and they were starting to reach for the phone when I added, “I’m sorry I’m so desperate for any lead, I just wanna find my baby sister” placing my head into my hands, bringing out the Othello from high school chops, the fake crying that had gotten me out of relationships and hard talks with my parents.

I was on my way to the address that was written down, and the phone call I had tried went straight to voice mail. I still didn’t know why I was going through all this just to give a journal back, I didn’t think I was that spooked.

I turned the radio up and checked my rearview, then swerved into the next lane over. I turned the wheel back into the lane I was supposed to be in and checked the mirror again. A figure in white disappeared from my rear view in just under 3 seconds. I stopped the car and checked the back seat, thinking that maybe I was seeing a reflection or glare, I even got out to check if someone was dressed in all white along the sidewalk. I clutched the journal wanting to throw it into the road, forgetting all of this, but then I thought, no, I needed to get rid of this journal. My gut told me to shove it into Madelyn’s face.

I pulled up to the apartment complex and searched the lot for the number in the mailboxes. I found it, and to my complete shock, it was overfilled, papers leaking out like it had been abandoned for weeks already. I clutched the journal, wanting to pry the mailbox open and shove it inside, but I couldn’t, because a part of me knew this was something far bigger than I knew what to do with. I didn’t wanna give up on trying to give this woman her journal back, but I also had no new leads, I wasn’t a cop nor a detective, I couldn’t just figure everything out and do something about it. I’m just a guy who found a freaky journal, and now I’m being delusional myself, maybe it’s not haunted, maybe I caught what she had in a kind of crazy bug, one spread through words alone, by mouth, by thought.

The day was coming to an end, and I was back inside the coffee shop, in the same seat where I found the journal. I ordered and waited, knowing she would come, and come she did, Just out of sight, sitting in a seat that nobody paid any mind to. Not ordering anything, just there watching, and all I can think is…

She’s here.