***long entry*** Just because you don’t believe in something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist… You can only assume, and hope, that you won’t come across it because you’ve had nothing to do with it. Even when you have seen tell-tale signs and people you know have experienced one or more of these happenings. But when you’ve been in certain situations, you begin to believe a lot of things you hear. Or sense. And when you’ve been there long enough, you just might experience it first hand… In the middle of nowhere, in midst of so many. 20 bunk beds, twice as many sleeping bodies,in a random dormitory in a federal boarding school. Look at you now, covered habitually head to toe in your blanket. Covered come cold or heat. Unconscious protection. One more form of protection. Look at you now, in the middle of the night, just come from the deepest realms of sleep. Just when you realize that something woke you up, a sound perhaps. Won’t be the first time, should never be a threat. But today, today is different… Look at you now, your eyes adjusting to the darkness. Moonlight streaks, outlines of windows, of bodies and so much silence. And something else. Something else, somewhere. Then a sound. You know it’s not the end. You don’t know why. You would have turned over and gone back to sleep. But today, you just can’t. Because you know this is what woke you up. And you know it isn’t a horror book to close, or a film to turn off. Look at you now… Another sound, like the first. You are so sure, even though it’s not possible, that those two sounds a minute apart are footsteps. You are so sure, even though it’s not possible, that someone is wearing heels. And you are so sure, that it isn’t one of your colleagues. Not in this place, not at this time. You are so sure, and you can’t tell me why, that that story you heard told so many times in those hours of boredom, the‘fairytale’ you laughed over, that you couldn’t possibly believe, is about to happen again. That story doesn’t end well. But is this how it usually begins? Look at you now, the dread that builds up in your every body cell, and the bile. Two clicks of a heel become three, then four. They come in pairs now. But slowly. Still so far away, not loud at all and yet so clear, so obvious. It’s coming from the end of the corridor, and you know deep in your gut, it’s coming right here. To you. Look at you now, unbelieving but accepting. Then making a decision to believe, but in something else. Someone else. And though you have little faith, you build a crash belief in a God you know exists somewhere out there. It’s your only option. Look at you now, fearing death. Then not anymore. Look at you now, fearing pain. Fearing horror. Fearing the process of death, but not death itself. Look at you now fearing the aftermath. Wondering what you will leave behind, who you will leave behind, where you will go, what you’ll do there, for eternity… Look at you now, remembering why you hate horror films. Remembering all the gruesome scenes, the heartless killers. See all the red of blood and the green of grunge in this black darkness. See all the yellow eyes and all the flashes of light. See with your mind’s eye, what comes to you this very minute. See that it doesn’t exist, but for you. See why, if you survive, you’ll never watch another horror film? Look at you now, resignedly awaiting your fate. Pulling the covers tight over you, tucking them under your feet and your head, like you always do. Realizing just now why you have always done that. Deciding to go with a fight that you can’t win alone. Knowing you can have no help in this room. Not tonight. Not now. Look at you now, listening for the slow, slow steady click of heels. Look at you now, 14 years old, and experiencing the longest 5 minutes of your life yet. Every second, every millisecond and every micro-millisecond of it. The 5 longest minutes of your life so far, and maybe for ever… Look at you, outside of your body, looking at your covered self. You hear your own thoughts. Racing through prayers. To that God you hope still remembers you. The one you suddenly believe in. You hear yourself make promises. Your hear requests forthe blood of a sacrificial lamb and the fire of a holy spirit. You don’t deserve, but you need. You need so badly because the footsteps are now at the door. And your heartbeat is so loud, everyone can hear it in their sleep. And they are probably asking why you are making so much noise. And you try to tell them to wake up and look. And shout. And pray with you. And pray to whoever they believe in. You discover God again, certainly this time, because the heels just clicked in front of your bunk. And now beside your bunk, beside you. You could see through your blanket if you only dared open your eyes. This is it. You could bravely sit up and scream, or lie where you are and shiver on in prayer. All the while you expect to feel a hand on your covers, probably a pulling. Waiting for the pain, hoping it will be fast. And it must have been several lifetimes before you heard another click. If you could ever still exercise belief! A second click confirms that it is going away. You dare not hope that you are safe, not yet. You dare not exhale least it comes back. Least it notices that you stopped calling on the blood of Jesus. And an hour later, when you have given up on ever falling asleep again in your life, you remember that you are still alive. And your relief is so huge, you cry. You will never laugh over another federal boarding school fairytale again. You will never laugh over other peoples’ superstitions again. And you will never get over this night. | 
