By Timefather67

"If our eyes are meant to cast illusions, then our reasons for things around us that explain to us why they exist, must be lies." Timefather64

I don't know how to describe this terrible event perfectly clear than I do already now. This very event that will forever lied bound into my head, haunting me like a shadow would do to you when you are alone at night. The darkness, oh god, the darkness, I can't forget those damn piercing golden eyes of that…THING! I can't sleep; I can't at all because of it!

My insomniac downgrading haunting fear started two years ago, in Chernobyl, Russia, just before its downfall with the nuclear meltdown on its plants. I was visiting an old friend that I met since I was in middle school. His name was Sergei Makarov. A trusted friend with a great heart that truly was remarkable to be around with. He lived in an apartment nearby a house owned by a grumpy man by his sixties. The apartment and house were located on a road. Those roads lead two ways, one lead towards the docks where all the fishermen come back from their cold adventures from the seas and then to the right were the road that lead down to the city and out of the city.

The apartment wasn't all that, it was more of a poor wage apartment that tenants lived in if they didn't had a good job, or they were trying to save up on their money just to have a roof over their heads. When I went to this apartment Sergei lived in, I couldn't help but stopped at the entrance of the place. It was really run down, the cement looked like it was deteriorating and the owner of the entire building didn't bother fixing, or perhaps didn't had the money too. Looking to my left, I saw the old house Sergei told me that a man of mystery lived in. He was a grumpy man who wanted no outside attention or any outsiders to begin with. All he did was leave his house and head off to the docks, either for work, or to shop in the local fish market. After that, he will come back and entered into his home, shutting and locking the door, making sure no outsiders could even perhaps guess his mysterious motives. Perhaps it was important, or perhaps it was not.

When I entered into the apartment, I took out a piece of paper from my left pocket of my big brown winter trench coat. It was a paper that Sergei had told me to write on, before I got to this terrible, stench lingering apartment that I could have sworn I saw a rat not too far away, feasting on garbage. Opening the white lined paper, numbers of, "12" Was written on it in black ink. I had to easily guest his room was on the first floor, since all of these room numbers lead up from one.

After passing by a few doors, I found Sergei's room, but there was a note left on the center of the door. Taking the note out of the door, I started to read the English that I am so glad Sergei still knows.


I will be running on a serious errand run, expect me back by next week on Tuesday. I left some food for you inside. I will see you soon my friend."

-Sergei Makarov

Putting the note into my pocket, I looked down seeing a floor mat. Leaning on to my right knee, I picked up the floor mat and saw a bronze key. Taking the bronze key and putting the floor mat back down, I inserted the key into the door handle's lock, twisting it left unlocking the door and being allow entrance to get inside. As soon as I entered into the room, I couldn't help, but smell alcohol, scenting the air along with the wet smell of mildew. This apartment was extremely terrible.

Walking in, I was at least impressed that Sergei had his furnisher neatly clean and nicely placed to make a decent living room. I could say the same for his kitchen as well that had a pack meal of rice and beans that was wrapped in plastic, sealed away from the filtering air and from releasing its enjoyable scent of deliciously delight. Walking pass the living room, I entered into the bedroom and saw only a bed and a lamp along with a wooden desk that had an unfinished drawing of some odd angelic like demon. Sergei is a great artist, he really is. Just give him a simple layout of what you want him to draw and he shall draw it with hard work and perfection.

I was searching for some kind of cot that he might have. If I was going to sleep over with him, how are we suppose too sleep? Sleeping in a small bed would be difficult. Trust me, you may find this kind of thing odd or wrong religious wise in my respect towards you, but it is not wrong or odd to me. I enjoy Sergei's company just as he enjoys mine. Sure our sort of friendly relationship seems quite intimated, but may I mind you we may be homosexuals, but we are not truly attracted to one another. I and Sergei's friendship is only settled in a best friends sort of relationship and that is that.

After looking around the house that was both horrible and alright, I walked to the door and closed it. Locking it, I remembered Sergei saying that he had clothing for me to wear so I didn't have to bring any bags of cloths. Going into his hallway closet, I found some cloths meant for sleeping and going outside. Closing the closet, I then walked to the window and looked out. All I saw was the forest, covered in blankets of snow. It was interesting, but not too interesting to me. What I saw too, was that old man's home. He had just returned from the dock area and entered into his house in a hurry, carrying some strange box into his home, of course closing and locking the door behind him. I decided to ignore it, it was not my business after all about what he carried with him.

As time flow by, I ate my meal Sergei had left for me and got into my cloths. I went off to bed and used his bed as my only resting place. It was the only one there and since he was going to be gone till next week, I might as well enjoy it. As I let my eyes rest, I couldn't help but open them every twelve seconds. It felt odd, as if something was preventing me to sleep. It wasn't the smell, no; I had gotten use to that. No, it was something else. Something that made my skin tingled like a wet drop of cold water touching the back of my neck.

Getting out of my bed, I walked towards the window, looking out curiously into the pitch black forest. I then glanced at the old man's house. His light from his room was glinting, almost like a candle. But instead of that normal yellowish color, instead this was almost like a green color, one I never seen before except in horror movies when I went out with my ex-boyfriend. Something didn't feel right about that light. I did guess that he was probably watching a scary movie, but there were no antennas on his oak wood rooftop. So something had to be going on over there.

Quickly getting on my coat and brown shoes, I left the room, locking it behind me, and ran off outside into the cold night. It was snowing, which was odd, because when I looked out of the window there was no snow falling on to the ground. Holding my hands together in this windy snowy weather, I started heading towards that old man's house. As I had gotten close to the house, I started hearing these odd echoing whispers coming from the inside. Was it a movie, perhaps he had a better T.V. then anyone else in this lonely road, maybe, right? But that question I asked myself was only made up just for me to go back inside and mind my own business like a common person would do around this poor side of the road.

Sergei had already explained to me that the apartment was almost like a ghetto. A place where one part of a group had stood in for everyone knew one another. Finally, getting to the door through this harsh weather that suddenly started picking up with a thrashing force that had almost made me stumble into the snow, I knocked on the old man's door, wondering if he was alright. No answer came from this worryingly knock of great concern as for that I had got was an empty response from not only the door but an also howling wind of white flurries.

I hoped Sergei was okay at work, this weather was growing wild. I knocked on the door again, hoping for a response from this old man, but I still got no response from the door, none at all. I moved towards the window where I could see the odd green light coming out from. All that I saw was the old man, on the ground in a meditated trance holding a book in his hand. I saw a table in front of him that had white and black candles placed on each side of the table. My heart started to beat faster out of fear, for what else I saw was blood. Blood that was dripping off the edge of the table, was it an animal, or something else? I couldn't tell, but it was scaring me, it was haunting me to make guesses out of pure fear.

I had to figure out something, so I went back to the door, banging my fist on it, hoping that would acquire the old man's attention. It surely work, gladly that it did, for the green light faded and the door opened revealing a furious man with a burning fire of hate in his eyes that slowly and bit by bit, had stared down into my soul. Those pupils were glowing green, eyes weren't suppose too be glowing, but his were, then soon they turned black, hiding away their true colors of ominous fear and ghoulish like façade of one which can't tell until the gut feeling in your stomach and head will make you assume what to be true.

"What do you want stranger, what are you doing out here in the cold, what are you a fool?" He asked, causing me to snap back to my attention. I was cold after all and it was foolish of me for even going out here. "Get inside before you freeze to death." He said to me, without thinking, I obeyed the grumpy man like a dog would when his master raises his fist threatening in the air if he didn't follow his orders. The old man closed the door and glanced at me with the strange look that he had when he went outside.

Noticing me shivering, he gave a gesturing grumble to let me know that I should follow him down hall way filled with portraits of angels made from famous artists back in the Italian renaissance. How do I know this, well Sergei is fond of the Italian artists that is why. I glanced to my right seeing the room that I had saw him meditating in, there was the table, but there was nothing on it. No blood, no candles, nothing. It was like they all had vanished in a split second. Soon, when he led me into the kitchen, he offered me hot coffee. I agreed, nervously staring at him as he made me the hot drink, too not only keep me warm, but to also relax from the freezing temperature.

"Why were you outside boy?" He asked me, in a stern tone that made me freeze out of fright. I couldn't lie to him, for something in me again told me, that he could tell if anyone is lying just by staring at them with those devil eyes. Using the term devil, that is all I could think of, he had to have some connections with a devil or perhaps be one. Oh god, was I next to be his victim? I had to think of something to say, I had to be honest for even the devil would know when you are lying.

So I told him why I knocked on his door, he looked at me with an emotional look that scared me but also had me continue on why I was outside trying to figure out what was he doing. After the explanation, he gave me the hot coffee and motioned me to follow him. First, I thought I was going to die, I didn't know what this man could do or what would he do too me. But I had to follow him. I had to figure out what was going on here.

He led me past the living room and soon stopped in front of a door. Looking back at me, he asks in a stern tone, "Before we go on further, I am giving you a choice. You can leave this house and not speak of what you heard and saw like any other folk should do, or you can follow me and face the inescapable truth that you long to seek?" I wanted to leave, I did, I didn't want to stay here, but I knew I was not going to keep my mouth shut for what I saw. I decided that it would be safe to figure out what he was hiding then perhaps get the police on him and stop any menacing evil that he had stored in what appeared to be in his basement.

Nodding his head of my answer, the old man opened the door and led me downstairs those wooden creaking steps into his basement. As soon as we got here, he turned on his light revealing to me what caused me to drop my coffee and freeze in terror. There, a body, a dead human mutilated corpse on top of a pentagram triangle that had a triangle with in its center circular eyeball. When the glass shattered, spilling the hot liquid that had kept me warm, I screamed, but my mouth was soon blocked by a hand that was coming from the old man. He gave me a warning glare that silence my voice from speaking as soon as I saw those green eyes come back but turned into gold ones. Oh god, just staring at them were buried into my skull, I couldn't blink, I couldn't I swear!

He pointed his palm at the body and started chanting something in an odd language, one where seem to not have formed into, but where Latin had formed from. Suddenly the green light that I had seen from my apartment window started to glow from the body and the candles, blinding me from its patronizing bright light. The whispers that I had heard before, came back, they came back. Where are they, I don't know, but are there dead people whispering around me as this strange terrifying ritual was commencing in front of my own very eyes. I had to leave, I had, so I did and as I left I could hear my name being called by that man, by that thing, that DEVIL! He knew me, he knew my name, and he was laughing at me because I bet he knew why I was there.

When I left Chernobyl and headed back into the United States, I rented an apartment in New York. I couldn't sleep after that, those bright lights kept me awake, that man's laugh, no that devil's laughter kept me awake. I haven't received any letters from Sergei still or at all to begin with. It's like something happened to him on the winter bizarre and that satanic ritual that I had witnessed before me. I wonder what or who could that person be, I hope Sergei leaves that place, I hope to god he does.

Now you know why I can't sleep; now you know why I can't handle this devil's existence. Something about that THING, was truly wrong! I am still terrified as it is. I have never been this scared in my life, but beyond being this scare. I need to do handle this. If this oneriophobic fear continues, I have to put an end to my life as we speak. When I close my eyes…

I see his glowing gold eyes and his whispering voice saying, "Goodnight."

The End