The Apartment

March 31st, 2024

The lights flicker again, threatening to turn my apartment into a silent darkness. A shuddered breath releases from me as I try to not make a sound, clutching my phone, ready to call Diane at any moment. Walking from the short hallway to the kitchen, my wide eyes scan across the fridge, stove, counters, and table. My attention makes the items more like props in an art studio, than furniture in my home. I search for any anomalies. Any ghostly knocks, apparitions, or unembodied voices. Enough moments of time begin to string together with nothing but a calm, even quietness. You’re over-reacting. Stop fucking scaring yourself.

The lights have remained on since the initial flicker. There’s been no mysterious sounds. I take a deep intentional breath and let it out with a slight chuckle, shaking my head. I just need to relax. I need to trust the process. Diane knows what she’s doing and its all fixed.

I go to the living room and curl up on my couch, switching on the TV, searching for something light, with no murder or thrilling content to reset the fear in my mind. I settle on the Food Network. But it feels like I need to turn my head and look behind me, just to make sure.

Stop thinking about it Chrissy, you’re fine. I try to focus on the dialogue of the show, the boisterous sounds of the commercials. I refuse to crane my neck and give into the paranoia. Because maybe if I do, it will make it real.

Finally, I start to feel my body rest into the cushions of the couch. I pull the crochet blanket over me and let my eyes start to close, just listening to the show. You’re going to want to chop these up fine, you can use a food processor if you have one…

I fall asleep, the glow of the TV and the varying octaves of sound lulling me like a mobile over a baby’s crib. But then it happens. Something that feels like fingers caresses my hair, a gentle stroke on the side of my head. I forget to inhale. I lay as still as a corpse, too full of fear to open my eyes. I don’t want to see what it is. I lay tense, as though my body adopted rigor mortus, waiting for the fresh dawn to glow through my eyelids and signal the safety of light.

February 19, 2024

Dear Diary,

I had a terrible dream again, but this time it was worse. I remember being completely aware that I was not awake. I knew I was in some sort of dream. But the problem is, it didn’t feel like a dream. It was more real than my regular waking days, because I seemed to be more present, using my senses with a mindfulness that the regular day to day hustle seems to prevent.

I could see myself sleeping, in my room in my apartment. It was as if my soul was ejected from my body and I was hovering in a corner of the ceiling. I watched a dark figure approach my body and it looked like a demon – a monster with glowing red eyes and a face permanently etched with a foreboding grimace.

It took an enormous amount of effort to try to scream to wake myself up. I couldn’t even move a toe or a finger. Finally…after feeling like I was going to be stuck in this dream world forever, I woke myself with a strange moan that was meant to be a scream.

Georgine

My legs felt heavy as I hoisted each one up the steps to Divine Dharma, a metaphysical shop on the corner of Ogalvie and 6th ave. I felt the sweat in my pits and a bead straining through my hair, causing it to look greasy. A woman of my size was not built for this Nevada heat.

I had stopped at a McDonalds on the way to use the bathroom, but the air conditioning was too inviting. I’ll just have one quick snack while I’m here, I thought to myself. I ate two super sized big mac meals. Honey for my fries. Dr. Howard would not be impressed with me next Monday, but stress is a big trigger. You can take heroin away from an addict, but you can’t take food away from a food addict. Besides, I already did the hardest part. Lost 185 measly pounds by divorcing Ray. He would bring home bags of fast food for each meal, feeding me and feeding me, yet he didn’t seem to eat a thing. It’s like he got off on it or something.

I opened the door and a dangling bell hit the glass door. I took a laboured breath and hobbled in. The air smelled thick with incense. A woman with a flowy dress that looked like she bought it on the beach in Miami waltzed up to the counter.

“Hi there, we have a sale on tarot cards and books right now. Ten percent off,” she smiled.

“I’m not here for crystals and shit,” I heaved. If that crap could help me, I would have gotten into it a long time ago. It was one of the reasons Chrissy and I didn’t get along. She believed, and maybe I was a little too hard on her for it. But I was only looking out for her.

“I’m looking for my daughter, Chrissy. Last time I spoke to her she mentioned you,” I leaned on the counter, trying to take some pressure off my knees.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Chrissy’s mother.”

“Ah,” the lady’s eyes travelled up and down my body. I was used to getting looks.

“She’s been coming to me for a while. We became close. Friends even. I stopped charging her for sessions. I haven’t heard from her for a couple days though. Truth be told, I’m a bit worried about her.”

“That’s why I’m here,” I squinted at her suspiciously. This lady resembled an old gypsy. They were just thief’s and troublemakers in my eyes, despite Chrissy asserting to me that that wasn’t true. Another argument we had had in the last six months.

I watched her face for any twinge of guilt as I said, “She’s missing.”

February 21, 2024

Dear Diary,

The mirror doesn’t lie. There were colossal bags under my eyes this morning. I could carry my groceries in them. Ha ha. But seriously, I’m exhausted. I’ve been going to Diane at the shop for readings. I’m trying to figure out why I keep having sleep paralysis. Or at least that’s what I think it is. That’s the logical answer. It happened again last night. I heard knocking emanating from the walls this time. I saw a dark figure silhouette against my door frame. Again, I was a prisoner in my body, frozen in paralysis, forced to endure the horror of the evil that stalked me in the night.

I first went to the metaphysical shop to just buy some crystals to help me. I got clear quartz and obsidian to help tame the negative energy that seems to be infiltrating my mind, causing these god awful dreams. As I checked out, Diane mentioned she did readings and energy healing. I chose a tarot reading.

Her face dropped as she pulled cards. The message of the cards were warnings… I feel re-affirmed in my belief that there is an evil presence in my apartment more than ever. I’m going to have her come over and sage my place in an effort to rid myself of these endless paralyzing nightmares and cleanse my space.

Georgine

The police finally took me seriously two days after I first reported Chrissy missing. I told them it was probably this hokey gypsy lady who had her. Her eyes were shifty when I met her, and I got the feeling she was a charlatan. They all are.

I would have joined the search party if I could walk more than five minutes. Instead, I stayed home, waiting for a phone call, my eyes glued to the local news station every time it came on. The police said what I was doing was vital. I chose to believe them, but it didn’t alleviate any remorse I had for not being a better mother. The drift started years ago. She tried to tell me Ray wasn’t good for me, but I wasn’t about to have a child tell me that. Besides, the food was everything, and Ray gave me whatever I wanted. Soon, I was so big I stopped coming to Chrissy’s softball games. I had to send Ray in my place to parent teacher interviews. I went on disability because I could no longer work as manager at the In and Out. I began to hate myself, and that fueled me eating more, until I was nearly a permanent fixture in front of the TV.

The phone rang, knocking me out of my guilt-ridden reverie. It was the police. They found her. They found Chrissy.

April 4th, 2024

Dear Diary,

I can’t believe I thought my place was haunted, when in reality it was so much worse. The knocking on the walls was real. The dark demonic figure that lurked in my flat was real. The hair stroking was real. Repulsion, disgust, and a new kind of fear took over when I realized it was Ray who had been the one hiding in the shadows of my apartment at night.

I had come home from another visit with Diane at the shop, telling her I still suffered from the night terrors. She doused me in sage smoke and gave me a protection spell to recite whenever I felt scared. That night, I began to hear shuffling noises and I lay in bed, listening to every vibration of sound.

I felt another brush of fingers on the side of my head. This time, I opened my eyes. Seeing a true physical manifestation, or should I say, human person in my room made me almost faint with fear. Before I could scream, a greasy hand covered my mouth. I realized who it was. It was Ray, my ex-step-father. He dragged me out of bed and I tried to rip his fingers off and become dead weight. But I didn’t expect his skinny frame to have the strength it did.

Ray struck me in the head and that was the last I remembered until I woke up. He took me to what I presume was his new apartment building after my mom kicked his ass to the curb. Stupid man. If it weren’t for police incompetence, they probably would have found me sooner than 3 days later.

Georgine

June 21st, 2025

It’s been over a year since my daughter was kidnapped by my idiot ex-husband, Ray. Dr. Howard says that’s the best and worst thing to ever happen to me. After sitting at home, feeling useless when Chrissy was missing, no better than a lump on the couch, I felt a fire light up under my fat ass to change. I’ve now lost 215 lbs and can walk 5 miles a day. I’ve even started lifting 2 lb dumb bells to tone up. Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?

Chrissy and I have been talking every day too. No arguments. No fights. She is my daughter after all.