I can’t sleep. If I sleep it will come again.
Three nights ago while sleeping, I woke in the middle of the night to find that I could not move a single muscle on my body. Paralyzed, I could only inch my eyes around the room and hope that it passed. The night was hot, and had left me sweating, but as I lay there, an icy fear gripped me. Suspended in a state of shock, fear, and a slight curiosity, I tried to call out, but my voice failed me. It wouldn’t have mattered anyhow, as I live alone.
Still, I felt that there was some other presence in the room with me, though I couldn’t put my finger on it.
I didn’t have to wait long for the nighttime visitor. It came with a very heavy and very solid weight on my chest.There, crouched in an animal fashion, was the grotesque shrunken form of an old woman, dressed in rags with a large warty nose and lank, greasy white hair. My heart stuttered. Still held in the firm grip of sleep paralysis, I could only watch as she sat there, moving her head ever so slightly, as if listening for something.
Not wanting to fall asleep with this thing on my chest, I tried to stay awake, but sleep reached out its comforting arms and took me against my will. I woke the next morning with memories of the old hag still fresh in my mind. It had not been a dream.
I haven’t slept since then. I know it will only happen again if I do, and I feel as if I am steadily losing my mind. My eyes become heavier each day, and I know that I cannot hold out much longer.
I dread the old hag.