#paranoia

In the United States of America, in the state of Ohio, about forty-five minutes North West of Cincinnati, there is a large, but sparsely populated farming community known as Oregonia. Some of you who have an interest in motorcycles may have heard of it before, as the community is famous for its hills. So famous, it holds the annual “Devils Staircase Hill Climb,” where motorcyclists ride their bikes up a very steep hill hill. It's a lot more fun than it sounds, and it brings in a lot of money…

I've been working at a police station in Massachussets for the past ten years. No, I'm not an officer but rather a First Responder. It's...not such a big job, or at least to me anyway, because my family lives in mid-sized city. Average 20,000 people. The most important calls I get include robberies and house fires. And then there are the pranks that teenagers play on Halloween and such like that. I'm recording all of this. The reason why is because I'm scared like hell. Still scared.

The following dialog was found written on a scrap of paper in the cell of a now missing John Doe.

Everyone has the same fear at some point in their life. They think its waiting for them. Some people think it’s stupid and not real. But some people aren’t unfortunate enough to be a victim to its lingering attack.

You never thought your life would come down to this, a choice between your heart and your life. Your heart is pounding in your chest like it's trying to make up for years of beats that it may never know, and every breath has an amazing taste, as if the air itself had a flavor. You can hear the waves of the lake, though it's at least five miles outside of town, or is it the blood in your ears that you're hearing, each crash of the waves matching the samba beat of your faltering heart. This must…

There are times when you feel as if you’re being watched. Usually you are not, at least that’s what you think. Sometimes it is a pressure on your neck or an itch you can’t scratch away. “What could it be?” you ask yourself. “Nothing, I hope.” Is it the Boogeyman? Your childhood closet monster? A ghost? ...maybe. You tell yourself that none of those things are real, only mere figments of your imagination. You will continue to think so. That is, of course, until it’s too late.

“Whom the Gods would destroy, they first make mad” Prometheus, The Masque of Pandora

It had been a long, tiring day at work. It was quiet as I waited alone for the train. It was a bit after midnight, and so dark that I could only see the square foot around me that the small light illuminated. Fortunately, I wasn’t stuck waiting long for the train. Eagerly, I ran in the second the doors opened.

Alone… You never have thought of the concept alone before, but as you are in your bed, unable to sleep your mind starts to wander. You think about what you did or what you are going to do tomorrow. Then, you start to think of darker subjects, subjects you wish you had never thought of. You wonder if you are the only one if the house awake at this hour. You wonder if you are the only one awake…in your room. Right there you hear small and subtle creaks in your kitchen.

It was a cold, rainy day in December. There was less than a week until we got out of school for winter break. Usually my teachers don't give us work before a break, but my bastard of a History teacher decided he'd assign us a 2000-word report due the day before we got out. I knew I wasn't going to be there then; I was going up to the mountains in North Carolina to spend Christmas and New Years' in Lenoir with some old friends I hadn't seen since I moved.

You are alone. A scared, fearful little creature in this dank and dark forest. I can smell you. I can feel your heart beating, every single one of them. I just love to dance to the rhythm as it quickens when you hear a sound. What as that? A squirrel? A fox? Perhaps it was. Or perhaps it was me.

Read Part 1 Here This is what happened next. I’ve been up for three nights. Energy shots and cold showers help. I don’t want to sleep. It’s been much worse lately—the dreams, and the voices. I won’t smoke anymore of these things, I’ve decided. I need answers first. And I need these maddening voices and whispers to stop barraging my nights. I have to listen to music, TV, something, at all times. Or I start to hear them. So far, I’ve only told Mike about what happened.

“Strange how paranoia can link up with reality now and then.” ― Philip K. Dick, A Scanner Darkly My name is Connor. Up until today, my life was completely normal... well, as normal as you can get. I’m your average 25 year old male who graduated from the University of Washington a little over 2 years ago. I was born January 23, 1989 in a small town in Maine called Belmont. Fewer than 1000 residents, but I loved the place.

I'm a scaredy-cat. There's nothing that I hate more than being left alone at night in a dark, rambling house. In truth I usually do okay. Stay in my chair, on my computer... watch horror movies and shows. I'm a scaredy-cat, but I kind of like being scared.

God, I hope I'm just going crazy. You ever had one of those "how in the hell did I get here" moments? I mean those flashes of clarity where you really see your life. You look in the mirror and you’re so far removed from the person you dreamed of being when you were a kid that you're stunned speechless.

I don’t know why so many of these things have roots in childhood. It seems like a bad cliché at this point. “When I was a kid”, there was this strange event… that odd creature… or the other thing that made me do something-or-other. Yeah. I don’t know WHY so many start like that. For me, I can’t explain this any other way than starting when I was little. It’s the crux of the entire thing, and I apologize in advance if it seems like I’m just following in the footsteps of others.

My Summer break had finally arrived, and was filled with many joys. One of the great thrills it held was a very energetic and lovable kitten, who I enjoyed playing with immensely. Unfortunately, the kitten wasn't mine, and instead he belonged to my roommate, or ex-roommate I should say. He was the one who had offered me a place to stay after the College dorms had kicked all the students out at Spring Semester's end. His name was Hobbes and he was 9 months old, although I wouldn't have known…

I don't recall ever seeing an actual music box. I mean sure I'd seen them on television but have never actually held one. Why is this relevant you may ask? Well, what I have to say about some things I've experienced recently involve sounds that can only come from a music box.

You know those sounds you hear when no one is home? Those sounds only you hear. When you’re alone. I do. I hear them everyday. The creaking. The noises. The paranoia of my mind playing tricks on me, but is it really?

I woke up sweating. This was the third time this week that I had this strange recurring dream. It feels so real, like I can hear the voices clearly, feel the contact with my skin. Sometimes I can't tell if it's real or not.