Statement begin:
My name is Andrew. My wife, Jenny, and I had a normal life I suppose. As normal as any other. The day she took her own life started the same as most. I woke and she had made a simple breakfast: I remember porridge with a generous slab of butter. I had noticed she was quieter than usual, but I didn’t think anything of it as I left for the fields. I spotted the neighbor already at work, and I considered paying his wife a visit while he was out.
I spent most of the morning tending to our sow, chickens and mare. We had been getting our mare acquainted with the neighbor’s stallion. She hadn’t taken to him yet, but it gave me plenty of time to get more acquainted with the wife while her husband was out in the field.
When midday hit, I decided whatever Jenny was dealing with, she’d rather have space to figure it out. So, I took our mare over to visit with the stallion. They were getting along well enough now. I decided to speak with the wife while our horses spent some quality time together. I talked to her about three times before deciding it was time for us, the horse and I, to head back so I could clean out the barn.
The sun was setting by the time I headed back to the house. I found her hanging in the bedroom. She had left a note on the bed. It was a strange note. She accused me of cheating on her and abusing her. I didn’t make any sense. I had never laid a hand on her. I assumed that new priest in town had convinced her of this. He had been filling her head with nonsense ever since he had gotten to town.
The last bit of the letter made me certain no one could ever see it. “I can’t bring a child into this world under your roof.” Whatever that cleric said to her, it made her take his child away from me. I knew if anyone saw this note, they’d assume the note was true. They’d take Jenny’s side, and nothing I could say would stop the town from turning on me. So, I burned it. I had to build the fire myself. I suppose she decided to do it sometime in the afternoon so she wouldn’t have to light the fire.
Then there was the issue of what to do with the body. If I brought it to the temple for last rites, no doubt that cleric would let it get out that she was pregnant when she… Well anyway, I started to wonder if he’d accuse me of murdering them both. I honestly wasn’t sure. I decided that it would be better to bury the body on the farm and tell everyone she had left me. So, that’s what I did. I took the body down and buried it in the woods near the south field.
That night the nightmares started. I heard a baby crying in the distance, then some odd formless shadow would start choking me. When I would wake up, there were moments where it felt like something heavy was on my chest. I could barely breathe. Eventually it would end, but going back to sleep was difficult. Looking back, I suppose it could’ve been some sort of grief. It continued like that for a long time. Every time I woke to that tightness in my chest, I could feel myself being pulled toward my grave by that strange shadowy figure from my dream.
Then I saw something out of the corner of my eye while in the field one day. At the time, I thought it was just lack of sleep, but it kept appearing: this shadow, right at the edge of my vision. I don’t know how else to describe it. It looked, or felt I guess, I could never really get a good look at it, but it was the shadow from my dreams. I also couldn’t shake the feeling it was getting closer.
Like I said, I tried to brush it off as lack of sleep. I knew this land like I knew my own hands. There wasn’t an animal within twenty-five miles that I couldn’t name on site. Whatever it was, I could handle it. I kept telling myself that until I felt those icy fingers wrap around my throat. I froze at that point. I tried to think if I was dreaming, but no, I knew deep down I was awake and this was real. So, I ran. I ran back to the house, heart pounding, and locked the door behind me.
That night the shadow wasn’t in my dreams. It was just the baby, crying like always. When the shadow didn’t show up, I tried to follow the crying to see if I could help, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from. It was like it was all around me.
I tried to call out to see if anyone else heard the crying. Every time I opened my mouth, all that would come out was a scream. I couldn’t do anything but wander around in this weird fog and scream. Every time I did, the crying baby would stop and all I could hear was my own echoing scream. Then the echoes would die down and the crying would start again.
I woke up feeling cold. My throat was sore and I felt something itchy around my neck. I felt like a piece of rope. I reached up to take it off, but there was nothing there. The feeling didn’t go away though. It still felt like there was a rope around my neck. I could feel it getting tighter. I started to choke, and I just knew that I had to get out of that bed.
I stumbled into the other room, and the feeling went away. I still felt cold. I lit a fire to get warm. My hands were clumsy and the match got soaked with sweat before I could light it, but I got it started. When I put my hands near it, I couldn’t feel it. It was like I had lost all feeling of warmth in my skin. I began to shiver. Part of me wanted the blanket off the bed, but I wasn’t going back into the bedroom for all the money in the world.
I shivered my way through that night and every night since. There are times where I think, “if I could just get a bit closer, maybe the fire could warm me up.” I know that’s a bad idea. I was burned pretty bad as a kid once and don’t ever want to experience that again. Still, it gets so cold in this damn house at night. I can’t help but think I could get warm if I was standing in the fire.”
Statement ends.
This is a fairly straightforward case. You have an otherwise normal couple wherein one party, in this case the husband, has a clear disorder that leads him to be abusive and controlling of his wife. The wife, feeling trapped, endures the abuse until some event or another sends her to take control of the only thing she has left: her own death. The pain and anguish that is left behind by an act like this can often coalesce into something with its own will and thirst for vengeance.
Unfortunately, I am not equipped with the tools necessary to stop such a creature. It is possible that their local cleric would know some prayers that could protect him, but I doubt the husband would consider that line of inquiry. Should he fail to seek help, he will most likely be killed by the creature soon. That, or succumb to his own sleeplessness. Either way, he’s practically a dead man walking.