I stayed up all last night. Waited for my dad to do something.
He did. I was barely awake, my eyelids were definitely feeling a bit heavy. It was around 4 A.M. I heard a really quiet footstep, and the stair that always creaks creaked a tiny bit. I tried not to breathe, so I could hear when he got down the stairs.
I got out of bed very very carefully, and walked into the hall so I could see where he was going. We have a fairly large house--no walls in the way of the stairs, just a railway--so I could see him going down the stairs the entire time. It was definitely my dad, no doubt about it. He wasn't walking very fast, and he was placing his feet quite softly. It could have been because of the scrapes, or because he wanted to be quiet, or both.
He walked into the kitchen, which is around the corner from the foyer downstairs, so I couldn't see him. I went around to the stairs and followed my dad. The kitchen light turned on while I was going down the stairs, and I nearly tripped and made tons of noise because I tried to freeze mid-step. I heard a chair scuffle out from the table, and I heard him ease into it, so I continued down the stairs.
I got into the foyer, and made it to the corner to the kitchen pretty fast. It's tile in the foyer, so it's easier to be quiet. I turned the corner to peek in.
All I saw was my dad sitting completely still at the table. He was facing the bay window toward the backyard and the pool. Nothing happened for about 10 minutes, I just watched him sit at the table. His hands were placed in front of him, just resting on the table.
I decided to approach him, just get a little closer. Probably not the best idea, but I was a bit impatient. I got to the entrance to the kitchen when I stepped on a ping-pong ball. Yes, a ping-pong ball. It cracked, made a ton of noise, and rolled away.
I froze. What else could I do? I didn't know whether I should run or just stay. So I stayed. My dad turned his head toward me. He barely moved his shoulders, just his head. It was so unnatural, the way he moved. He turned his head to the maximum it could turn, so he could just see me out of the corner of one eye.
Except his eyes were closed. He was sleepwalking.
He had a little smirk on his face. It wasn't an adult's smirk. It was so childlike, as if he was a little kid having fun torturing a pet. That was the picture that popped into my head at that moment, and that's all I can describe it as now. He turned his head back toward the window, nodded, and pushed the chair back to get up.
I backed up. I was terrified. That's not how sleepwalking is supposed to look. He was being influenced by something out there. He got up from the table and turned his whole body toward me. I didn't even consider him my dad at this point. He was something else, he wasn't in control of his own body. He didn't even know his body was being used, for God's sakes.
He was holding a knife in his hand. The biggest knife in the house. It was practically a meat cleaver, that's how huge it was. I don't know how sharp it was, but a sleepwalker holding a huge knife and facing you is not the best thing to be seeing at 4 A.M.
I couldn't move, except for one trembling step I took backwards. I was literally frozen in fear. I didn't know that could happen, but it did. He lumbered toward me--this wasn't my dad walking, this was something not used to a body--and he raised the knife. He thrust it toward me, and plunged it into the wall next to my head.
He leaned his face toward mine--closed eyes and all--and opened his mouth. His breath was worse than anything I had ever smelled. It smelled like what I imagined rotting flesh would smell like, meaty and moldy at the same time.
"Finally, someone who takes initiative," he whispered. He grinned, a sick, malicious grin. "The ones who take initiative are always the most fun to play with. We still have James. We're getting hungry though. You might want to head way into your backyard soon...maybe try the old shed. The fallen down one. You'll find some delights in there. Oh, and don't worry. Your father is unharmed from this whole ordeal--for now."
"Oh, and that code we sent you? It wasn't real. Impossible to solve. We just wanted to see if you would break the rules."
With that he opened his mouth even wider and started laughing even more. After that I don't remember anything. I woke up in my bed. There wasn't any hole in the wall where the knife had landed in the kitchen, and the knife was right where it had been.
That couldn't have been a nightmare though. My dad has no idea what's been happening to him. There's nothing I can do about it other than hope the Howler (I think it was the Howler.) doesn't do it again.
I'll go to the shed out back tomorrow. I can't because of the freezing rain and the 2 feet of snow. I'm being pulled in one direction, and I can't deviate from the path because someone in my family will be hurt if I do. Maybe killed.