Scene: Near midnight, in the dojo where I lived it is quiet, the night outside is still and calm, you can hear a few cars and horns now and then, but calm and quiet for the most part. It is at
I stood in the archway alone and a bit dazed, listening to the vanishing sounds of chairs being thrown all about, the windows shaking, I tremble some; look out the window, everything seems to be fine, no storm, no earthquake, no anything, I’m the only one in the dojo, the chairs are all in place. Then I think—as the noise continues throughout the dojo—what might be lurking, in the unseen?
Again I walk about the dojo, even up onto the platform, and down again, a casual inspection of the place, but when I moved toward the arched entrance, I detect a presence nearby—a hint of motion, by the wooden archway, leading to my bed, my couch that is, where I sleep. It is approaching the archway: with a triumphed ululation— I call out poignantly, to this unseen ghastly and noxious frightful, and mind-blowing, beggaring description, entity: “Who are you, I’m not afraid of you, show yourself!” Not sure now if this was a wise decision to nearly insult the nondescript.
Now I had delirious company. I cannot even hit what it was like, the uncanny and unwelcome spirit, walked by me slowly, I could see the bending, the impressions his bulk made as he took step to step by me, bone-revealing horror—he must have been huge. The floor showed his ghoulish food prints, as if it were a shade of grey being imprinted with each step he made into the collapsing grain of the wood. It was something from antiquity, desolate, putrid; God knows it was not of this world—or no longer of this world.
Nearly mad, I found myself unable to fight it with the stick in my hands, and although the noise stopped—as if it and been on a rampage—I found myself saying: “Lord, if ever I needed you I need you now, please!” And I said it out loud, and I was not a prayerful man in those days. I did not shriek, but the fiendish ghoul vanished, with his rampage, I could even hear his hideous hallow breathing, as he left.
Before I went back to sleep on that sofa-couch that looked through the archway and into the dojo, where the apparition pressed so hard into the wooden floor, I said to him: “We’ll have to share the dojo,” and that was that, the last I ever said to him, or heard from him.
#895 ((31March, 2013) (12:28 a.m.))