[2. When did you realize you had a special talent?]

I remember having a conversation with Dad at a neighborhood park back when I was really, really little. It went like this:

“Dad, why is that man standing there?”

“What man, Devin, baby?”

“That one. See, he’s standing by the swing. Dad, he looks sick. Does he need a doctor?”

“Hm? I don’t see anyone.”

“What do you mean? You’re not looking hard enough, Dad. Look, he’s standing right there! He’s all wet. See, his shirt is dripping red all down his pants. He’s even got it on his face, dad. It’s all messy. He didn’t clean up. And Dad, he's carrying around a knife this big. Is he cooking something? And why is his neck is all bent? He should go see a doctor, right? Dad, don't you see him?"

“Chickpea . . . There’s no one there.”

~~~

I don’t even need to look behind me. I can feel it staring at my neck.

Calm down, Devin. It’s, you know, just a normal--floating--severed head. You see it all the time. It’s never done anything. No need to get freaked so out.

That doesn’t make it any less freaky!

Alright. Okay. We’re fine. Take a deep breath and s-start packing up like normal. With shaking hands, I slip my book and the remaining chips back into my bag, then stand up while swinging the bag onto my shoulder. I walk as steady as I can to the plastic door flap of the greenhouse, trying my very best not to break out into a run. Gotta be normal. Ignore it. It’s not there. I can’t see anything.

“M̤̰̟̍̊æ̹̙̐̐ʁY̝? ẅ̠̟̥hɜ́̆̈R̘̙E’ɾ̩̥̟̊̈ɘ ʏ̩́oʊ̘̈̊̈̊ G̠̟̠̐̈Oɨŋʛ̽? I̽ β̹ɐk̠̟̊̈3́̊ɗ sø̠̟̊ɱɛ ʙ̹Lø̝̞̯̈̍̽O̥̘̠D p̟̥ɪ̩̊e.”

B-blood pie?! Are you kidding me? That's not the kind of voice that's something humans are supposed to ever hear! Who the heck is Mary? No, wait, scratch that, why is it even talking? It's never talked before. It feels like something is ripping my nails off, rubbing my skin off with sandpaper, and pouring Vaseline into my eyes all at the same time it enters my ears. I shiver. I have to force myself not to freeze. Carefully, I flip open the plastic flap and step out into the evening air.

Once I hear the flap flip close behind me, I sprint through the garden, hop over the fence as fast as I can, and dash down the road towards home. After running for more than five minutes, I slow down to a walk, panting heavily with burning sides.

Gosh, that hasn’t happened in a while. When was the last time? A couple weeks maybe? I see little stuff like eyeballs in walls or mice with teeth sticking out their back like everyday. I’m used to creepies like that, but any creepy bigger than say a watermelon or anything remotely human looking still freaks the heck out of me. Luckily, I don’t see them too often.

But why is it back? It totally ruins my hiding spot. This is the fourth time already, and last time, it wouldn’t leave for a week straight. It’s . . . not following me, is it? I check the road behind me and sigh in relief seeing it empty. I start walking again, feeling a bit calmer.

A severed head, though. Sometimes I wonder if something might be buried under the dirt floor of the greenhouse, but I’m way too scared to even try searching. What am I going to do if I really do find someone’s head there? I mean, that’d mean that these aren’t just hallucinations. As much as I’d like to be proven not crazy, being able to see dead people is not exactly the most comforting thought, either.

I shake myself. Let’s think about something else. It’s darker than I thought out. How late is it? I pull out my phone. Seven? It shouldn’t be this dark yet. Weird . . . now I’m feeling paranoid. Dad hasn’t called yet. Usually he’s checked up on me by now, but he could be watching that new drama he’s been absorbed with the past few days. Still, the street is awfully quiet for this time. It’s even weirder how the street lights haven’t turned out despite how dark it is.

I speed up my pace, grumbling out loud to make myself feel braver, “Why does all the horror movie stuff have to happen to me? I don’t need any more suspense in my life. I’ve had more than my fair share, don’t you think?”

I let out a puff of air in relief as I see a car turn a corner and drive down the street towards me. At least I’m not completely alone. But on the off chance I randomly get kidnapped again, I move closer to the edge of the sidewalk away from the road, careful not to slip on the grass and roll down the hill into the muddy river. The car’s lights blind me as it passes on by. For the second time tonight, I freeze.

Something is there, in front of me.

There’s something that appeared right in front of me after that car passed. Even with eyes blinded by headlights, I could swear right here, right now that it was not there before. My eyes swim as they try to recover their night vision, and slowly the thing comes into focus.

I gulp. This creepy is no severed head.

I stare at it as it looms over me, taller by far even while crouching on legs with one too many bends. It’s skinny--basically a skeleton--with way too long of fingers, grossly hunched shoulders, and a strangely sloping neck. It leans over and places its smooth, almost featureless face right in front of me. Its gross, eyeball-less sockets swallow my vision. A grin cracks across its face. Horror fills me.

“ɨ̩̍̊ʈ ɰ̯̥̩̍̈oɲ̘̠’T̟̞̈̊̈ ʂ̍́t̊ɑ̘̞̟̈̀ɹ̈t̙̘̯,” it gurgles. “T̈ħ̬̟̍̆3 ɗ̘̙̍oɭ̬l ⱳ̈̊aʂ ɗ̘̙̍ɜcÅ̠̩̥pɪ̊T̠̟̩̆̍å̞̘̽t̟̠E̍̈ð?̊ Ï gʊ̝̞̬̊E̬̩̽sʂ̍́ ʜ̠̬̟̍́ə̩̽’ɭ̬ɬ̍ hÄⱱ́Ë̟̞̟ t̘̬̊ɤ̆ ƈ̥̟̊ɦ̈ə̠̈ç̝̥ƙ̍ ɨ̥́̈t̟̠̟.”

I shouldn’t have looked.

This is bad. This is really bad. I can’t even move as it reaches out to me with its long fingers. I get a whiff of something as its hand moves close, a smell that reminds me of burnt hair. Its fingers touch my chest, and all of a sudden, extreme pain washes over me. It hurts! It’s all wrong! It hurts it hurts it hurts It Huuuuuuuuurts!

The fingers! Right now, they’re in my chest! They’re phasing straight through my chest. I choke on my tongue. It feels wrong! They’re digging around, grasping for something. It’s not supposed to be like this. It hurts. They’re touching it. What are they touching? Stopǃ It hurts so much! They twist it around and start pulling. No! Stop! Why is it like this? I’m splitting apart. Itǃ Hurtsǃ So! Much!

I feel something rip. It feels like a gasp escaping my lungs. There’s so much pain. Am I dead? I can vaguely see my body lying on the ground. Did it just rip out me out of my body? Am I a ghost now? Why does it still hurt? I feel lightheaded as it pulls me closer.

“Ï̠̟̠ wᵒ̥̟̠̟̊̊ɴ̝̙̰̥’ᵗ̩̩ T̯̟̈̈ɘ̝̩̍L̝̥̩̽ʟ̞̝̞̊.”

My chest throbs horribly. The burning sensation flooding it doesn’t fade even as my mind starts to wander deliriously. Instead the pain grows stronger in waves, and I can feel it moving in time to the blood pounding in my ears despite now apparently lacking a body. This thing is a ghoul, I decide. That's the only name that fits it, right? Never thought I'd one day ever be viciously attacked by a ghoul. Thought they were only storybook monsters. Who could have predicted this?

As I’m pulled near the ghoul, its face opens up, showing a gruesome mouth that takes up its whole head. Okay, that’s just horrifying.

“D̞̝̈ø̩̩̊ŋ̝̥̍̈’ƭ̩́ ɖ̈ʀ̠̩̟̊oƥ̩ aᶰ̩̽ʏ̠̟̊.T̩̽ɦ̯̥̠̆ɛ̩̍ β̥̩ɭ̈ó̰̬0̩̊D̞̝̽ wiL̠̟̠̆̊ʟ̯̈̍ F̝̠̆̍aɬ̝̞l̈ oʊ̩̈t̝̠̟̆,” it says as it leans its head forward.

Pain a thousand times more intense than having my soul torn out of my body explodes as the ghoul bites into my right side and rips off my arm and upper chest. My senses go absolutely haywire. I'm crumbling to pieces. I can't think. It hurts. This thing. It's killing me!

I scream.

I can hear it slurping and swallowing the dismembered pieces of myself.

“Ï̠̟̠ ɰ̩̥́ᵒ̥̟̠̟̊̊ɴ̝̙̰̥’t T̯̟̈̈eL̝̥̩̽ʟ̞̝̞̊. ʜ̠̬̟̍́E’ɭ̬ɬ̍ hÄⱱ́Ë̟̞̟ t̘̬̊o cɦ̈ə̠̈ç̝̥ƙ̍ ɨ̥́̈t̟̠̟, ø̩̥̈̊r T̩̽ɦ̯̥̠̆ɛ̩̍ β̥̩ɭ̈ó̰̬0̩̊D̞̝̽ wiL̠̟̠̆̊ʟ̯̈̍ F̝̠̆̍aɬ̝̞l̈ oʊ̩̈t̝̠̟̆..”