I remember the first visit. I was only three, but I remember the low grumbling under my bed. My night light was pretty powerful, so i peaked under the bed and saw no light underneath. And I screamed. I screamed until my dad came, scooped me up in his arms, and told me monsters were only in my head. He checked very nook and cranny of my room, every toy, every last corner. He sat down on my bed taking my tiny feet in his weathered hands. I remember him telling me stories about history, about our ancestors, about everything while rubbing my feet until I fell asleep. This was our ritual every night.

The monster came, Dad would come in and chase it off. Dad protected me.

When I was nine or ten, I remember waking up quite often. I didn't like sleeping in my room sometimes. My brother came in one night crawling into my bed shivering- he was 4 years older than me. Dad was overseas at the time and mom was on heavy drugs. He shook me awake.

"Syl. Syl....Sylvia!" He was panicked. I was pretending to be asleep.

"Whaaaaaat Shawn?" I hit him and grabbed my pillow.

"Get Up. I heard footsteps."

In my life I'd seen my big brother look scared one time until that point. When I looked at him... I saw death.

"What do we do!?" I whispered. "We need to get mom!"

"I tried but I can't wake her up... still breathing though. Just stay behing me and take my bat."

I felt the cold touch of metal when Shawn handed me a baseball bat.

"Now... do what I say. Be real quiet. If we get attacked I'll take his feet and trip him.. you bash him."

I nodded. We never talked unless something serious. He preferred talking to our older sister who was away at school. My sister and I don't get along. Everything she did had a price. If she poured you a bowl of cereal... by god you better be willing to offer up your firstborn. I'd call her a witch but hey, they have some level of morality.

Those days were often spent like that. Heavy footsteps, Shawn trying to protect me, and my mother sleeping through it all.

As years passed, Shawn grew up. He barely acknowledged me... his geeky goth sister. I forgot about everything. All bonds were broken. I was 14, my parents had divorced and I bounced from one state to another, back to my home state to live with my dad. He had a new romantic interest. I didn't mind... she liked cats and dogs equally and she seemed to like me a lot. My dad took me along for a lot of their "dates"... She didn't have kids of her own so he wanted to ease her into the fact that I was still living with him.

That's when shit got really dark. The grumbling started happening again... The shadow figure. Everything.

The final nail on this chapter came over winter break. My sister, Michelle, back from college, decided she would be the matriarch from now on. My brother followed behind or got out of tge house in his tiny, silver ford Focus.

I had no such luxury. I was trapped. Trapped with the growling horrid beast... and well, the THING that lived under my bed. But I decided to do something I'd never done before.

I decided to fuck with her psychologicaly. She made me sit in the room while she was watching some b-rate documentary about people who could talk to the dead. I obliged... but I knew she was scared. So I did what I could do to heighten that feeling.

I drew a girl dead in a pond in tge woods, dagged in her chest. I pretended I didn't hear this documentary. She looked at my drawings and screamed. She asked who made me draw them. I smiled.

"Will. William, really. Or Mr. Johnson to you."

The look of terror in her eyes was pure ectasy to me.

"William.. Johnson..? D-does.. Syl... look at me. Does he talk to you?"

I happily shaded the death trees with my charcoal. "Yes."

"What does he think about me?"

"Ask him yourself." I grinned. At this point I expeccted her to leave. "All we have to do is light a candle. If it leans right, it's a yes. If it leans left. It's a no. Easy."

She lit a candle. My smug self sitting there preparing to manipulate the flame.

I never had a chance.

She asked "Are you here?"

Flame right.

"Are you friends with my sister?"

Flame right.

"Do you like me?"

Flame left. I was surprised. I hadn't built it up yet.

"Do you want me to leave?"

Flame right.

",Are you good?"

Flame straight .

Finally I piped up "If you are tired then get rid of the flame."

The candle died.

It was many years before I heard fron him again. I was on the brink of suicide. I was there.

(If still interested then I'll continue..Big plans for the letter but i have to sleep)