Hi, my name is Jake… and no I’m not telling you anything else about me. Though I would agree -to a point- that when people come to visit, I tend to… how can I put it, not to make them feel very welcome. Whether it’s in how I slam a door; or close a cupboard, or stomp about the floorboards Displaying my anger has been…how can I put it…not too difficult for me.
In many ways, I don’t want to be understood or figured out. I don’t want my daemons put to rest. I am very happy with them hanging about thank you very much. But there is also the sense of the perverse in what I do. I want people to hate me, to be scared of me. I want people to go and think, never again. I enjoy trapping people in games and love their pale faces as I scream at them.
Some people now want to analyse me. They want to put me under the spotlight and try to figure out why I do…what I do… to those I say, fair enough, give it your best shot. But one thing is for certain you will never get to me. Ever.
Steven Peter’s and his family tried to get to me. They wanted me so much at first, and made me feel welcome. Yet, then they started talking down to me when I started acting up; and I never like that ever; after all I do have a sense of pride, I need to be recognised! I NEED TO BE RESPECTED! Sorry… a little rage bomb there… I tend to let them off occasionally. In the end I had to do away with Steven Peters and his sorry family. They annoyed me too much. Sighing here, moaning there, getting people in to to try to understand me! I DON’T NEED THAT! I DON’T NEED THAT AT ALL!.... so… I had to settle the score.
Now...its not easy settling any score. After all, I am not a murderer… well… not an intentional one… I, I don’t seek vengeance, I simply ask that, when you do see me, you respect me and you respect my sense of self. Its not easy being me. Its not… no one understands. Ever. I guess now, you are wondering what on earth did you do to settle your score with the Peter’s family? I can imagine you are thinking all sorts of nasty stuff. How I came through the front door screaming like a madman ; a felling axe in my hand. How I with hysterical laughter took to carving up Peter’s his near to do wife and his children with a HACK JACK HACK SPLAT, heheh hehehehe… well I didn’t. I am not like that. I am an artist. I pick my moments carefully. I choose the most vulnerable, the most loved, and… I twist them. Oh not all at once you understand… after all, it’s better when there is a little thought behind it, don’t you agree? Oh, of course you do. I think you will agree with me that there is nothing better than twisting the knife or turning the screw just that little bit, to see what happens, when the person goes over the edge… Perhaps you think I am cruel. A soulless being. I disagree I have feelings, I do. I really do… I do do do!
Now you have me all upset. If you carry on like that, I’ll not talk to you any-more.
You see...You have to understand, that I am an artist. I work slowly, and methodically. There is purpose in my action’s…. I take pride in that. Many don’t see that, they simply don’t understand me at all.
So how do I start things off? Well, most of the time I do this by simply moving things about. This is something that I really enjoy. Nothing get’s me giggling more, than watching the mice run the course of the trap. Scuurrying here, muttering there, running about, getting increasingly hysterical because “I know damn well that I put the (insert any precious desperately needed object ) down here!" Where are your key’s? glasses? The TV remote. Nowadays, it’s more fun than ever. Knocking out the wifi or the internet for an hour or two; and then watching them turn it off, or on, fiddling with the lead, and finding it unplugged. It is really is funny.
Then I turn the key a little. I increase the hostility by whispering in people’s ears, stuff that they don’t normally think. Notions and feeling’s that the mice never understand. Then I sit back and catch them. “Big Brother” yeah, they get their ideas from me. I send them letters about who to put with whom and what to say to press that button and watch them squirm.
Now I know you’re thinking what a bastard. How utterly cruel. But you see you have to understand me, and my history. Many don’t want to know me. The truth is I push people away, because I was unloved and feel unloved and want people to understand… to love me for who I am…hehehehehehe. I bet you nearly fell for that one.
I do get attracted to people though. Take Mrs Peter’s. Fiona... I mean mmm, now she’s a beauty, a real looker, beautiful green eye’s..It’s the eyes for me, every, all the time… I just fall in love or deep lust, I donno which the moment that I make contact… chestnut close cropped hair with a well formed body that made me feel alll all electricalll. I mean the sparks were there from day one.
Once I caught her in the bathroom, sudsing herself in the shower… I watched has she slowly rubbed the gel into her skin, teasing her buds, and … well… I wanted to join in so so much… then Peter’s came in and he spoiled it, I might as well have watched porn hub, over Ol Peter’s shouder for all the fun I get nowadays! I will say, in my day I was well bigger than he was, ever.. where was I.. oh yeah sorry wandering...After the stuff goes missing and the voices, then comes the dreams. Perhaps, this is where I show my real self? Hell no! fuck that! No, I use all sorts of weird things, floating in their heads. Peter’s had a thing for his secetary...why when Mrs Peter’s , Fiaona, was simply gorgeous, I don’t know. Anyway, I get into Peter’s head and have the secretary get all juicy on him… you know what I mean. Then I turn the secretary into one of my mates, usually the one who likes using surgical implements… and watch the fucker wake up screaming. Seriously, that is such fucking fun. Once I think he nearly caught me. well I was about too long torturing the fucker, when he woke, and caught a glimpse of my red hair and pale face as I made it to the door. He told Mrs Peter’s about that. She laughed at him. Which made my day. Yes, sleep deprivation is a major tool at my disposal. Especially with kids. The Brats piss me off, but hey they are so vulnrable...You get the kids ratty after two weeks of dreams, and the mice forget that I am even there. Boy do the sparks fly. Ol’ Mr. Peter’s blames Mr’s Peter’s the kids blame each other. The anger rises. Heaven Yeah! Feeding time; and boy do we feed....Then comes the real fun.
Then I start moving things about. Sometimes, in front of them. Most of the time not. Its at this time I tend to get more attention to myself. I have to say, at this point, I cannot help it. I really can’t. It’s like, wanting to be a part of the game again. Connecting with the mice in the cage; makes me think of…other times… better times…TIME’S I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT!... another rage bomb…sorry… sometimes life get’s to me, you know? It’s tough. So the stuff goes flying and the mice bring in other mice with machines to poke and prod me and piss me off. So I tell, them to go. It got like that with the Peter’s. I had enough of their bitching, OK OK I know I caused it, but there comes a time when you have to cut the chord and say goodbye. I became annoyed with Ol Peter’s three weeks ago. I don’t know what happened. Maybe it was because he started getting all loved up with Fiona...anyway.. I decided I had had enough of them, so I got up, and started slamming all the doors and shouting. Fiona, she screamed. So I pinned her to the bed. and stopped her friom brathing... Ol' Peter's, he tried to stop me, so I threw that fucker across the room. Then threw their precious walnut veneered 1930’s cabinet on top of him. Knocking the bastard out.
The brats heard the banging, so I locked them in their room and used a toy clown in their little wardrobe to stare at them menacingly. I crawled out and scared the little fuckers big time heheheheheh. Then I turned on the water taps and the gas and the TV and the internet. on the laptop showing Fiona what dirty ol Peters had been glopping off to, while his wife had been at work. She didn’t get that message though. Fioina screamed and leapt from the bed, pulling the cabinet of her husband yelling at me to “fuck off and leave her family alone!”
That’s when I came out and fully revealed myself to her.
She saw me standing over her bed. I saw her face all knot up in terror and she screaked as she looked away. Gosh, I mean I know I’m no looker but that’s just unfair.
She dragged her hubby from the room pulled him down the stairs with a colobbbidy clobbidy clob and had him by the front door, while I kept chucking stuff about! I was well annoyed now. That and sexually horny. Its not very often that I do reveal myself, but when I do I WANT MORE THAN A FUCKING SCREAM!
Then came the two kids. The brats were wailing and wailing and I was well pissed off at their noise. I mean not at their fear, but the racket was deafening. So reluctaantly, I opened the door and let her in. She carried the little fucker's down the stairs and then they all began to scratch at the front door... damaging the paintwork! I mean... come on!
I know they wanted out. I could read their minds… but I wasn’t ready for that...yet…. I need respect! I am a being that commands it! So I slammed all the doors one at a time. I started up in the attic by lifting up the attic door and up and slamming it down hard enough to splinter the hinges. Then the first floor. Smashing and punching hole after hole on each door as I passed. Then I came down the stairs smashing the boards one at a time with a SMASH CRUNCH SMASH! I WANTED THEM TO KNOW HOW PISSED OFF I WAS! heheheh its all fun…
Then I stood at the far end of the hall, by the basement door. I DON’T LIKE THE BASEMENT! I NEVER GO INTO THE BASEMENT AND IF YOU GO THERE I WILL GET YOU! I WILL RIP YOUR MIND OUT!
I stood there. And walked towards them and just before I reached them, the front door opens and with a screaming howl I threw them into the street, slamming the door nehind them. Now... I am alone again…
People don’t like me very much… but then again, I don’t like people much either. They scare me. They say they want to help me to reach the light...but I don’t want the light. I don’t want the dark either… I just want to be here, in this space and given respect and…maybe... left alone…. I know what I don’t want. I don’t want anyone to go into the basement and find me…but then again, maybe I do… maybe I am insane? I do think I am insane sometimes... or maybe its them,thsoes voices in the cellar... calling, calling calling... maybe I am the only sane one in this neighbourhood? Maybe I just need to be forgotten and left to my world…alone…
© adh 2016