It happened again.
About a week or so ago — just a few days before Master Nathan took his first breath — I had yet another disturbing experience.
First, some context:
For years, I’ve endured something called sleep paralysis, and for those of weary minds who haven’t got the foggiest clue what their Overlord & Saviour is on about, well, here’s the best visual explanation I’ve found that depicts this phenomenon:
Yep, it’s every bit as horrifying as it looks.
And that’s exactly how it feels in the moment.
Worse still, you’re acutely aware throughout it all. I don’t know why I get them or where they come from, but you can bet my firm arse that I am thankful they don’t occur nearly as often as they once did (more on why that was later).
Here’s how my latest “adventure” went:
I was asleep (obviously), and in this dream of mine, I flicked on the lights to my kitchen before setting down an evening haul of groceries (strange as I don’t shop at night).
As I returned upright, there, at the far end of the conservatory, I saw something reflected on the glass panes.
A face.
(Think of the most horrifying, ungodly, and grim demonic visage your mind can conjure, then multiply it by ten. Yup, that’s exactly what looked back at me.)
It’s a face I’ve regrettably seen many times before.
Immediately, my body responded with a racing heartbeat and then the dreaded limpness that comes with this wondrous experience. I tried to fight it. I tried to make some sound — a growl, a mumble — that would alert Laura to wake me, who is well-versed in digging me out of these situations.
Alas, she didn’t hear me, nor was I able to ward off the paralysis.
So I remained there on the bed, limp and hapless.
Only then does the demon grow emboldened.
The face soon took the form of a skinny wendigo without the antlers as it edged closer to me in the kitchen setting, yet all I could do was watch like some meat statue.
Without Laura to yank me out of this rotten dream state, I could only do one thing:
Wait it out and hope it passes quickly.
I’ve found the best thing to do in this situation is to calm myself down, however ridiculous that may sound to novice ears. Sometimes deep breaths work, or, in this most recent case, I murmured three words over and over again in my head:
God is good.
God is good.
God is good.
(Fret not, I ain't about to break out with the gospel.)
You can imagine my little guest didn’t like that one bit.
The demon responded by becoming more animated and agitated, snapping its jowls like only a monster of the netherworld would.
Soon, feeling was restored in my fingertips… then my arms… then my legs and neck. My chants grew louder and more defiant until, finally, I managed to fling my head from side to side — like I always strive to do in these situations — to snap myself back into the physical world.
Sure enough…
IT WORKED.
There, I was greeted not by a snarling demon but the stillness of the night and the gentle inhales and exhales of Laura and Master Liam, who were blissfully unaware of the oblivion that just visited me for the hundredth time.
Breathless, I lay there and scrutinised every dark corner of our bedroom.
Now, some will write this anecdote off as “Woo-woo Watson” striking again, and you’re totally fine to believe that, but here’s the interesting part I haven’t told you…
Remember at the beginning of this email when I hinted that I used to get sleep paralysis a lot more in the past?
Well, guess what I was doing a lot of when they were a common occurrence?
(Worshipping Sauron doesn’t count.)
WRITING SUPERNATURAL THRILLERS.
Seriously, I cannot make this stuff up if I tried.
These regular bouts of sleep paralysis are actually one of the main (and slightly embarrassing) reasons I left the genre altogether and pursued fantasy, which, in hindsight, was the best decision I ever made for reasons beyond this email.
Hell, I even abandoned editing my last-ever (and arguably best) horror short novel after a particularly rough visitation.
And you’d never believe its title:
THE UNINVITED GUEST.
I know, very apt indeed.
Anyway, it’s clear the divine doesn’t want me straying too far into these darker reaches of creativity, and you know what? I’m A-OK with that. It doesn’t mean I won’t edit the draft one day, nor will it stop me today from shamelessly promoting my supernatural duology, The Curse of Abbey Ruins.
(C’mon, it’s spooky season, after all.)
Unlike The Uninvited Guest and several other unpublished works of mine, there are no demons in this duology, but there are plenty of supernatural spirits that haunt a notorious woodland where the story is set.
The first book, Sticks and Stones, follows the father of a missing girl.
The second and final instalment switches POV to the detective investigating her disappearance, which slowly unravels into a chilling supernatural mystery.
It’s fast, lean, but most importantly…
CHILLING
As this is some of my formative work, you’ll not find much purple prose or Shakespearean fluff as you might do elsewhere. If that’s no issue to you whatsoever, then let this be your first spine-tingling read to kick off spooky season.
To learn more, go here:
https://djjwatsonstore.com/products/COAR
DJJW
P.S. I’ve got plenty more supernatural experiences I’ll be sharing this month, should that tickle your pumpkin.