Fyodor Dostoevsky

At first it started out with a feeling, the feeling of being watched, small movements around the corner when she just wasn’t paying much attention. Weird dreams with a reoccurring face. Odd, but nothing to fuss over, after all, it was the mid 19th century and hysteria regarding demonic possession and activity were at its peak. In a small village like the one she inhabited, paranoia spread quick, it was easy to assume that perhaps it was simply getting to her as well.

Though this feeling, it didn’t stop as time went on, it followed her, in the market, at the church, in the safety of her own bedroom when the sun would set. It seemed to be getting to her, as she found herself snapping her head to the side when she felt like something was watching over her shoulder, sneaking glances at the small spaces in each room, double locking the front doors.

But it did not stop.

Eventually, one day, or, one night, she finally caught it, getting ready for bed she snuck a glance at the closet, and there it was. A pair of eyes, watching carefully before pulling away as they realized she had spotted them. Naturally, she slowly walked over to the closet where the eyes happened to be, yanking aside the clothes to find.. nothing.

There was nothing there.

After that she started watching even closer, not just quick glances. At first she tried to convince herself that it was possibly a hallucination induced by her own tiredness, but it didn’t explain the grappling paranoia that she could not shake no matter what happened.

————————————————————

One day, after sitting out in the cold, Russian winters for too long despite her already weak immune health, and continuing to attend church despite an outbreak of influenza, she fell ill, bedridden and unable to do much, struck with a high fever, debilitating aches, nausea, and exhaustion. She couldn’t even bring herself to get out of bed to make a cup of tea.

Coupled with all these issues borne of this illness, the paranoia did not cease even as she tried to sleep away this disease. And suddenly, she heard a noise, the sound of porcelain being placed against wood. She turned her head towards the noise, albeit a lot slower than she would have wished, there she saw it. At the edge of her bed, peeking up at her, those same eyes. She then glanced to the nightstand at her bedside, tea. Sweet, herbal, a home remedy, something she would’ve wished to get up and make herself, even though she couldn’t properly muster the energy to do such.

The creature she had seen before did not hide away from her this time, it remained. She kept her eyes on it just as it had theirs on hers. She noticed quite fast that this thing was not human, the dead giveaway being the horns protruding from the base of its skull. This was the thing that had been the source of her paranoia for weeks. This was a demon.