Ignore It By Jamie Swinney

Ironically, the night is when I feel the safest. I can close my curtains, lock my doors and shut out the vile toxicity of the outside world. It is something I especially savour ever since I got hired at my new workplace. You don’t realise the stress being held hostage in your body until you can relax. Your neck, your back, your knees, even your knuckles, they feel as if they’ve been gnawed on for hours by something just out of sight. An overarching sense of uncomfortableness encompassing your entire being with a source you know is there but can never pinpoint. And you only recognise it when it goes away, when you’re finally alone and can finally relax. I was just settling into this state of comfort when the TV broadcast became interrupted.

Women of the United Kingdom, this is not a test. This is an alert from his majesty’s government. Do not panic and listen carefully. There is something in your home. It wants to do harm to you. If you look at it, react to it or acknowledge it in any way then you will be in danger. By all means, ignore it. Ignore the sound. Ignore the smell. Ignore the touch. The men of the government are working hard to understand this phenomenon, we will fix it for you as soon as possible.

Ignore it.

All the stress of the day rushed back across my body and increased itself tenfold. It was like someone tied a rope around my spine and pulled it impossibly tight. It had to be a joke, right? A prank? Someone hacked the signal and was, like usual, making the women of this country the punchline. But I couldn’t rationalise for too long as I began to feel it. It seemed impossible from where I was sitting, back against the sofa and sofa against the wall. But there was something behind me, something just beyond my peripheral, lurking. I couldn’t describe it, but I knew it was there.

Ignore it.

Then it started to breathe, its breath sharp and warm, contrarily causing a chill to rip down my torso. I could feel it; this proved it was real. My body was stiff and unmoving, and my eyes stared directly in front of me, afraid to shift even a micrometre. Despite the undeniable feeling of air on my skin, I still feared whatever was behind me was sitting just beyond my eyesight in every direction. I knew for a fact this wasn’t in my head anymore, now all I could do was ignore it. Act normal, make no fuss and it will go away. The government would fix it. They said they would. I just had to focus on something else, the TV, the wall, the carpet, anything.

Ignore it.

That strategy vanished when it began to speak. A scratchy, harsh and somewhat gurgly speech spoken at such a low volume and at such a close proximity that it was as if I could hear the voice inside my own mind.

“Kristen…”

“Kristen, you’re worthless…”

“Kristen, you’re stupid…”

“Kristen, you’re pathetic…”

Over and over these words cycled in my mind as whatever was upon me continued to whisper the wicked conjuring in my ears. The vile words caused my finger to involuntarily twitch. I wanted to scream. To yell. To cry. I was terrified and angry at the same time. Yet I had to control myself, attempting to absorb every blow to my self-worth, something that had already been whittled down throughout the workday.

Ignore it.

Then I felt it. I don’t know what I felt but I could feel it reaching out to me, touching me. By that point I was entirely unsure what was in my brain and what was real, it felt as if every part of me was being touched at once, yet certain sensations felt more real than others. My tolerance to ignore whatever this entity is, it was razor thin and only getting thinner. The edge I was standing on was crumbling beneath me. And when its vile touch began to tighten around me, grabbing my neck, my wrists and my ankles, I couldn’t cope anymore.

Ignore it.

I screamed. I thrashed. I yelled. I leapt from my seat, turning to face my adversary. Ready to die fighting. But there was nothing there. Then the pain came. Bruises and marks manifesting on my body in an instant. A soreness spreading across my whole being. And then the light began to make its way through the curtains. It was the next day. And no one would ever believe me.