I see dead people and I think it might be me
Dear Regular Guy,
Have you ever seen a ghost?
Possibly. I've certainly witnessed a demonic possession. It happened 10 years ago, and not one single week has passed by since, that I haven't been reminded about it.
Let me explain.
Time stopped. Noise that had been abundant died away to a deathly silence. Air became thin and, though we were in a centrally heated room, mist formed on my breath.
The room was cold; ice cold. The radiators could not compete with the chill being exuded from the cold heart that now stood in the centre of the room, glaring at me.
The look had no love in it. No warmth whatsoever. It was the coldest, hate-filled stare I've ever seen. That stare could only have been the Devil's work. The eyes behind it were no longer human. They were no longer alive.
I could hear every beat of my own heart as it drummed over the painful cacophony of frozen silence emitting from the fiend before me.
Moments became seconds became minutes became hours. I don't know how much time passed; it could have been weeks, maybe even years? Time has no meaning when you are standing in an abyss with only Satan's lovechild to keep you company.
Something had destroyed this once beautifully warm woman and created evil personified. But I had no idea what or who or how or why?
And it was just standing there, waiting.
The silent, thin-lipped look of malicious expectation was the scariest thing of all.
It was waiting for me to say something. Scooby-Doo was going to have to solve this fearful mystery without Velma's help. A cold sweat of terror formed on my back.
I ran the events before this hatred had enveloped her through my head as fast as I could, searching for answers. If I knew exactly what happened then perhaps I could exorcise the beast and send it back to Hades.
I'd tried to amuse her boss with a joke about her being an alcoholic...no, that wasn't it; she had rolled her eyes but it hadn't made her head rotate unnaturally.
I'd been caught out looking at that woman's bum when I was supposed to be listening (I can't do two things at once, I either pay attention or I look at bottoms - never both)...no, not that. She had just patronised me a little while simultaneously checking out every man's chest in the room, calculating whether every piece of furniture in the place matched the decorated walls and recalling where and when each and every women in attendance had worn her outfit before. Women are scary even without satanic possession.
Then she'd pointed to the hot, slim, chesty girl who had just walked in and was, disastrously, wearing exactly the same dress that she was and had dejectedly mumbled "I wish I looked that good in mine..."
Ah yes, that was it.
Usually, immediately and emphatically agreeing with your wife is the correct thing to do. However, every now and again the devil sitting on her shoulder will use your agreement as a portal into her soul.