It wasn't until I began my therapy sessions. That I actually understood what had happened to me. All these years I had really feared the darkness. Being alone at night was the worst thing to me. I wished that my parents had believed me. All those years back then. They could of stopped it and kept me safe. I can't be mad at them anymore though.
Looking back if I was them I would of thought the same thing. It's just a phase that will pass. He will get over it soon enough. Every child believes in the boogeyman. If only that was my actual fear. I might of outgrown it or even overcame it.
I was about ten when I first saw the neon black mist. At first the colors sparked my curiosity. I was drawn to it like a mouth to a flame. The electrical sparks drew me in and mesmerized me. I've never seen a mist that looked like that.
It was night time yet it stood out like it's own void. I had seen black holes in my science class. It almost reminded me of one. In the darkness of space it's density stood out. It was the darkness within the darkness. If that makes any sense to you.
My curiosity would get the better of me though. I opened my window to play with it. That was the beginning of my first mistake. Once I opened my window and felt that warmth. It came in and the nightmare began.
The boogeyman; my boogeyman. It now had the power to come and go. At first I couldn't understand it. which now looking back is what took me deeper down the rabbit hole. How something so beautiful could be so horrible. At first it was amazing. We played and it taught me; All types of new games that I was eager to learn.
That didn't last long though some of the games I didn't like. After awhile I couldn't refuse to play those games anymore. When I started to refuse that's when the nightmare really began.
Even now that I'm a man I don't speak its name. The thought of it alone sends chills down my spine. By it; I meant the creature in the mist. I've drawn countless pictures of him. All never really capturing what he was. Causing me to dig deeper into the art world. Looking for a style or texture that could fully capture its essence.
I live as a recluse now selling my art work to make ends meet. I guess I should thank him for bringing out the artist in me. Yet he doesn't deserve such praise. I pray the day comes when someone finds it. I want them to put him in the deepest darkest cell. That they can find in America.
For all the years of my life it wasted and corrupted. Countless hours of therapy and prescription drugs. The teasing and bullying I endured. All to just be believed and heard. Forcing me to isolate myself and live on the edge of fear. All for nothing but his own enjoyment.
It's face was white and pale. His blue eyes could Pierce your soul. Even in the darkness I could always see them shining through. It seemed as if that was the only human part of him though. I never saw his body through the years. The black cloak it wore usually covered most of its body entirely.
It's hands were always covered with leather gloves. But from his grip I could feel it only had three fingers. On the right of what I considered its hands. From its arm came these electric probes. That was the most mystifying thing about the creature.
Those probes could bring so much joy or pain. They illuminated the darkness and brought sparks to my room. It used waders as shoes. Yet it never tracked mud or anything into my room. I've tried to set up traps. Which have backfired and caused me much pain. It didn't take too kindly to any of them.
It always knew what I had done or what I was trying to do. That's when those electrical probes would hurt. They sparked and sizzled in the night. Roaring as they zapped me over and over again.
I tried to scream but the mist would enter my mouth. Filling me up gagging me to the point I submitted. It felt like a soaked wet ragged being stuffed down my mouth.
The mist that once fascinated me began to terrorize. One time I actually fought it and called out for help. My father and mother came to my aid. When they did it was gone; I was alone in my room panting and sweating. All my pleas for help went unanswered. My dad looked around the room and even checked outside. No ladder or way to get to my second floor room was found. He scorned me for waking him and scaring the family. Told me I was too old to still believe in the boogeyman. I got grounded for a week; trapped in the room I so desperately wanted out of. Where he would come again.
I knew he would... it was only a matter of time before he showed back up. Locking my window and hiding under the covers did nothing. It seemed to just provoke him to hurt me more. some nights it seemed as if he enjoyed seeing me afraid and hiding. I began to just accept what was going to happen. we didn't play or have fun anymore; it just wanted to touch me. fondling me in all my private areas, making me feel things I didn't understand. my body felt weird with every touch.
It told me these were games only we could play. games that true friends enjoyed together, other people wouldn't understand the games. when I tried to call his bluff I was met with shock and disbelief. My own mother didn't want to hear me talk about how he touched me at night. she told me I was just growing up and becoming a man. Feelings and dreams that I was having were normal for a boy my age. My mother told me my body was going through changes and I just had to come to terms with it. everything was normal and I had nothing to fear.
My mother believed the creature from the neon mist was a figment of my imagination. something I thought up just to masturbate at night and not feel guilty. When I stressed the point she usually changed the subject, or gave me one of her famous favorite lines
"Maybe you should go talk to your father about it"
"Everyone has imaginary friends sweetheart; it's rude to talk to people about them. People will think your immature. You don't want to be immature right. Your a big boy now. Go play and say no more about this mist thing"
Which meant I've heard enough of your lies. Go make dad deal with it and set you straight. I can't bear to deal with you right now. There were times when she would even get mad and tell me I was causing her migraine to get worse. She wondered where she went wrong in raising me; why I couldn't be like my brother. Going as far as to tell me my sister acted more manly then I did. It didn't matter where in my house I went for help I got scorned and teased. I became an outcast in my own home.
School was no better either. I sought help from my guidance counselor. She sent the cops to my house to investigate my accusations. The whole town found out and began to consider my dad was molesting me. That brought even more trouble my way. I would never forget the beating my father gave me after the cops left. I didn't sit down right for a week my butt hurt so bad. After that things in my life just got worse.
The bullying started and the teasing. name calling and scorning from my teachers and peers. I felt ostracized from my town. I couldn't walk ten feet without someone whispering or pointing at me. My brothers and sisters adopted the same mentality my parents had. They looked down on me as if I brought shame to the family name.
As I grew older thoughts of suicide danced in my head daily. When I finally got the courage to act on them. It only made things worse for me. everyone really began to believe I was crazy. I was diagnosed clinically depressed with Attention Deficit/ Hyperactivity Disorder. The doctors told my parents the ADHD was what made me believe in the creature in the mist. Believe that I was being molested and that someone crept in my room at night. The depression was just an after effect of me not fully getting all the energy out of me. The impulsive need to tell my story triggered my stress response to go into overdrive.
I was given medicine to stop the hallucinations as my doctor called them. pills to make me right again. He said I just needed to relax and focus my energy on something creative. Which is why I started drawing. It was the only thing to take me away from the corrupt reality I was living in. yet still the creature in the mist found a way to invade my creative space. I became obsessed with trying to draw it. I figure if I could show people what I saw at night they would understand and finally believe me. That was not the case though, my drawings were just labeled deviant and dark.
I began to regret the day I ever opened my window to the neon black mist. Allowing this creature to come into my room. Welcoming it into my home as a friend. Now I hate the creature from the neon black mist. I didn't want to feel the electricity running through me anymore. The probes no longer fascinated me I despised them. I hated him just I hated my father for not believing me and protecting me.
Now I am an adult and still afraid to look out the window at night. I fear that once again ill see the mist and begin the process over. He will force his way into my room and the games will start again. Even though I am much older stronger and wiser now, I know what the creature is capable of. I know it has no conscience nor does it care if I cry in pain. I know resistance is futile with the creature from the neon mist. It will shock you and hurt you until it get's what it wants.
Some days though I find myself at night alone in my apartment. questioning myself if all of it was in my head. If what I thought was happening to me when I was younger was really real. Was the creature from the neon black mist ever really there? Could I of imagined him, imagined it touching me in my most private of places? Did it really probe me over and over again with its electric rods? it had to be true i remember those nights as if they happened yesterday.
Those blue piercing eyes that saw through my soul. they haunt me still and bring nightmares. To this day I still sometimes wake up in cold sweats. Thinking its rubbing it's disfigured hands over me, Bending me over my bed and probing me. Shocking me and gagging me when I call for help. I check the locks on my door and windows countless times a day. Never really feeling secure even in the place I now call home.
It has been years since I have spoken with my family. They still feel I am crazy and in need of help. Even now after my counseling and staying on my meds. I feel a sense of resentment towards them for what the creature did to me. I try to listen to my counselor and release the anger. yet it is so tightly wound up inside me; that I can not seem to free it or come to terms with it. I know in my heart that the creature from the neon mist is still out there. Somewhere right now with a new victim playing the games he played with me. Shocking them and probing them as he did with me. Wrecking another innocent child's life for its own deviant amusement.
Thank you I am glad you enjoyed it..
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