Demons or Insanity?

It sounded like a dead body being pulled across the room, slowly, and with great effort.

I lay there dead still on the bed, the covers over my body but still feeling cold inside, all the while with sweat running down my face. I could see them in my mind and had seen them before. I didn't know if they were demons from Hell that had attached themselves to this little girl's soul, or if I was losing my mind. The man I saw had jet black hair that was slicked straight back, dark, beady eyes and a moustache. He was muscular but not very tall. The woman had jet black hair as well, but she was stick thin and her skin was as pale as it could get without being a gothic white. The little girl still had color in her face, but she was obviously crying and begging for someone to help her. She had limp, pink ribbons hanging from her dripping wet hair. Her pink dress was also wet and clinging to her tiny body. She couldn't have been more than seven or eight years old. I could see the three of them standing outside the screen door on the far side of the dining room, staring at me, and then the woman began to grimace and the man roared a deep, evil laugh that made me sit straight up and grab my ears to block the sound.

I rose from the bed and hurried out of the room before I could see or hear anything else. The dining room was outside this little bedroom and it was packed today. I glanced hesitantly at the screen door, but nobody was there. My husband was busy chatting with customers and didn't seem to notice the white panic I was in, but he often didn't notice things. I hurried past him and went into the kitchen to continue cooking breakfasts and let the other cook take a break. I hoped he wouldn't go into the bedroom, but I couldn't say anything to him, not here, not now.

The crowd finally cleared out and I was glad because my head was aching from all the noise. My husband, Jim, was busy smoking and talking to Jena, the new waitress. God, I hated that bitch! When she started she got away with almost anything and Jim went along with it just because he thought she was good with people. Right, she would ask the customers to pour their own coffee because she was busy chatting with someone. I ignored it, ripped my apron off and threw it on the counter, and then went straight upstairs to take that long needed nap. Jena the wonder waitress could clean the dining room for a change. After all we were just managers of the lodge and if the owner liked her too, which he did, there was little I could do, but I didn't have to do her work for her.

The next morning it was very busy because our sons Alan and Sam were getting their pictures taken that day. Both of them looked so handsome with their blonde hair, white shirts and dark pants, the appropriate look for the day. They left as I began to vacuum the dining room that Jena had left dirty. I should make Jim do it but then he would think I was being jealous and that wasn't it. I wanted to talk to Amos, the other cook who resided in the small bedroom, about what I had heard and what I saw, but he got to me first as he was busy packing his belongings. His face was almost strained as he talked about hearing a young girl crying at night, and then his eyes seemed to shift and he stared into the distance as he raised his shirt so I could see the large mark that was across his back. It looked like he had been scratched by the talon of a large bird, and as he put his shirt back down, he told me to get out of the lodge, that there were bad things there and he'd seen them and heard them, but he hadn't wanted to say anything until he got the mark on his back. He thought he was going crazy but now he knew they were all in danger, and he was leaving. He left without saying goodbye to Jim or to the wonder waitress Jena.

Three O' Clock rolled around and I waited impatiently for the boys to get back from school and tell me about their day. The bus lumbered to a stop, and I watched them get off and walk across the snow to the lodge. They ripped off their coats and sat down on the sofa next to the fireplace that I'd had going full blast all day. Sam was sitting closest to the fire and was staring into it as he told me about his day. Alan was sitting next to me and we both gasped as Sam turned to look at us. His face was absolutely black on one side only, and the division down his face was perfect. There was no black on his white shirt or in his blonde hair, which I found very odd considering he was so close to the fire. Half an hour later, Sam finally got the black substance off his face but it was very difficult to remove. I was packed by the time he was done, and the four of us got in the car and headed back to our home in Maryland. As we pulled away, I could hear that horrible laughter, and a tear rolled down my face as I thought about the lost soul of that poor little girl. Are there soul collectors that feed off the energy of the living? I am not sure, or are they demons, or, did I lose my mind? Was it mass hysteria caused by Amos and myself? These questions I still ponder today.